1959 / 160 Minutes / Not Rated
Reviewed by Dale Nauertz

Just knowing that this movie is out there probably keeps John Grisham awake at night in a cold sweat. It would me if I were him. Because, even though he slaves in the lawyer-story field, he will likely never craft a yarn as thoroughly gripping as this one.

Best as I can see, this film sets the high water mark for all other courtroom flicks. It begins with Jimmy Stewart (who was the D.A. of his small, Michigan town until being voted out) returning from a fishing trip to receive a call from a frantic woman who asks if he will represent her husband in court. He finds this strange since he has never met this woman and, aside from that, he is not a defense attorney. But his alcoholic friend insists that he take the case, although he knows nothing about it, and so he does.

It soon turns out that he is representing a soldier (Ben Gazzara) who has killed the man who raped and battered his wife. Jimmy asks the man some questions and, yes, the man did indeed commit the crime. But can he be held responsible for his feelings of rage? Was the murder justified? After all, the man did rape his wife. Wouldn’t any man want to put a few slugs into such a man?

These are the questions that Jimmy will have to wrestle with during the course of the trial. He knows that his client commited the murder, but was he in his right mind when he did so? That is the big question. Soon another question springs up: considering the wife’s flirtatious attitude, can he be entirely sure that it was even rape?

There are a lot of questions to this case, which seems at first to be so clear-cut, but soon gets a lot more complicated. The complications seem natural, though, and I was not surprised to find that this is based on a couple of actual cases from the Michigan state files. The actors do a good job with their characters. Lee Remick is very good as the flirty wife, and George C. Scott performs an early miracle with the character of the prosecuting attorney: a man who can badger a witness so effortlessly that it almost becomes an art form. But Jimmy Stewart is the one who really steals the show. Does he believe his client? You are never quite sure, and this isn’t conveyed through any dialogue. Instead, he sells this point through the discreet use of facial expressions. He conveys everything you need to know about this man through tone of voice, facial expression, posture, and it is a great performance. And the way he can play a jury? If I ever get caught shooting the guy who shtupped my wife, I want Jimmy as my lawyer. He has the jury eating out of his hand, and he pokes tiny imperceptible holes in the prosecution’s arguments every step of the way. It’s very smoothly done.

All in all, this is a vastly entertaining, often powerful, and thought-provoking film. Otto Preminger directs with a remarkable assurance and attention to detail. This film is 160 minutes long, but I assure you that you won’t notice it. The movie races along and you are at the finish before you know it.

Like any excellent movie, this one leaves you wanting more rather than less. That is always a great achievement. Outstanding work all around. In fact, I don’t think people have heard enough about this movie. Before it called to me from the racks of Best Buy’s DVD section, I know that I had barely heard of it. That, more than anything, is the true crime here.

1992 / 97 Minutes / Unrated
Reviewed by Dale Nauertz

Like it or not, “Dead Alive” entertains you. You may cringe. You may even vomit. But you can’t quite bring yourself to turn the film off, or even to look away, no matter how grotesque the proceedings become. It is a film filled with scenes of indescribably gory violence, yet you don’t find yourself becoming squeamish. Not quite. Because it seems always to have its tongue planted firmly within its cheek.

I don’t mean that literally. Literally: the tongue is crawling across the floor.

“Dead Alive” takes the typical horror plot of a bou fighting an army of zombies, and gives it all sorts of strange little twists. The film opens with a hilarious scene that involves two men trying to get a monkey off the island of Sumatra. The natives try to stop them, knowing the terrible potential that the monkey has. But the zoologist is determined, despite the fact that his guide has “de bad vibes, mon”. The zoologist gets the monkey off the island, losing his arm, one hand, and his head in the bargain. (Just watch it okay, don’t ask).

The scene then shifts to a young man named Nigel who lives with his domineering mother. To say domineering is putting it mildly. This woman makes Norman Bates’ mom look like June Cleaver. A beautiful girl from the market is expressing interest in him, but his mother will not allow him to have any part of it. She wants to be the only woman in her little boy’s life. So when the boy and girl go on a date to the local zoo, she shadows them. While she is doing this, she is bitten by the Sumatran rat monkey (almost forgot about him now, didn’t you, see how it all matches up) and soon becomes a blood-thirsty zombie craving human flesh. Not that it’s much of a change. But Nigel is such a devoted son that he doesn’t report her to the authorities or anything like that. He puts her corpse in the basement and does his best to curb her blood lust. Although it must be mentioned that his best isn’t that good.

Complications then ensue.

I can’t go through with this review without mentioning one thing: this is the goriest movie ever made. If that appeals to you, then what are you waiting for? If you like your bloody horror films to have a sense of humor, then this film is right up your alley. In one hilarious scene, a vicar ninja kicks a group of zombies while saying: “I kick ass in the name of the Lord!” Again, if that appeals to you, don’t wait a second longer before renting this movie. To wait any longer would be a tragedy. It also features zombies having sex, a dead baby, an intestine that attacks a man like a jungle snake, and Nigel strapping a lawn mower to his chest and slicing a room of zombies to shreds. All of these things cannot be described, they must be seen to be fully believed. Director and co-writer Peter Jackson sees the “Evil Dead” films and raises them on the gore front. Much of it is disgusting, yet thoroughly hilarious. And the movie has an odd (and I DO mean “odd”) sweetness and cleverness to it, despite the body count.

Just don’t watch it too soon after eating.

1992 / 130 Minutes / R
Reviewed by Dale Nauertz

Aside from the fact that it ends a bit too abruptly, not letting us get a chance to unwind after its big climax, I would have to say that you couldn’t possibly hope for a better Dracula picture than this one.

The film begins with something that I, personally, have never seen before: the origins of the first vampire. It also ties the story in with the whole “Vlad the Impaler” thing that I have been reading about for years. You know what I mean: the stories about Vlad the Impaler, known as Dracul, that Bram supposedly took the name of his famous bloodsucker from? Well, Dracul leaves his beautiful bride (Winona Ryder) to go fight in the Crusades. He defeats the Turks and returns home, triumphant…. only to find that his bride, believing rumors of his death, has killed herself.

Vlad is, understandably, pissed. He has fought for God and now he returns home to find that God has let this happen. He renounces his faith, turns to Satanism, and becomes a vampire. During the course of this movie, I discovered that being a vampire seems to be the Satanic equivalent of being a Born Again Christian. You drink blood, you die and are born again. The only problem is that after that you can’t eat anything with garlic in it, your fingernails get real long, and you have a problem with mirrors and crosses and you’re not too big on sunlight.

But other than that, it’s all shits and giggles.

After the whole renunciation thing, the story skips ahead to the familiar tale: Dracula is planning to move to London, to be on the cutting edge of things, and then he discovers that his wife has been reincarnated as the fiancee of the man who has come to put all his estates in order. This provides him even more reason to go to London (and, as I watched Winona Ryder run through the wind in a flimsy nightgown while obviously not wearing a bra, I did not blame him at all). So he has his “wives” (a bunch of hot, naked vampire chicks, see, I told you that you couldn’t ask for more from this movie) keep her fiancee occupied while he goes to London to take the man’s lady.

The plot takes a back seat however to the performances and the visuals, which will literally make the eyes pop out of your head. Coppola has never been this experimental, this audacious with the editing or with his camera. The sets and costumes (or the lack thereof) are absolutely gorgeous. The music weaves a hypnotic spell over the whole thing, hooking you and mesmerizing you.

And then there are some really great performances also. Winona Ryder, who I have never gotten really enthusiastic over, is quite good in this movie. And she actually has chemistry with Gary Oldman, who takes the role of Dracula and sinks so deeply into it that you will forget that anyone else ever played the role. He is a force of nature in this film, and not a very nice one. He is evil with a capital E, yet you see where he is coming from. You understand Dracula and see what makes him tick. There are a lot of terrifying moments coming from him, but there are a surprising amount of sympathetic ones as well.

And Anthony Hopkins is as good as always as the coolest vampire hunter in any movie that I have seen. “Blade” was cool, I am not denying that “Blade” was cool. But did he have the charisma, the coolness, the accent of Anthony Hopkins? Nope. And let’s not even bother comparing the two on a level of acting talent. Please. That’s beneath us, isn’t it?

Yes, there are some hokey moments on display here. I don’t think you can make a movie about Dracula and sidestep all the hokey moments. And yes the ending is a bit sudden, and it has an Annie Lennox song over the credits. Where the hell did this come from? I mean, I like Annie Lennox and thought it was a good song, but… Huh? But it is well-acted, often chilling, mesmerizing, beautiful to look at, well-edited, fast-paced, brilliantly conceived and it has a scene where a naked woman has sex with a wolf.

What more do you want?

By Dale Nauertz

Yes, friends and neighbors, it is once more that time of year. Summer has blown its wad like an impatient prom date and now we are left with Fall and Winter. A great many of the studios’ true show ponies and Oscar contenders will be trotted out for our amusement in the coming months. I have analyzed the Fall Preview Issues of both Premiere AND Entertainment Weekly and, as I have the past couple of years, I have made a list of the films that look the least likely to suck. These are the films I will be viewing for sure in the next few months. And I thought you might like a heads up on them as well. So here they are, in order of enthusiasm.

1. “Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers”

I wasn’t that jacked up to see the first installment of this series, “Fellowship of the Ring”. But then I saw the movie and it began a love affair with a film such as I have not been treated to in quite some time. The film enthralled me. It riveted me. It got me addicted. I saw it more times in the theater than any other film. Does that mean it’s my favorite film ever? No. Does it mean that it would be one of my ten favorite films of all time? Probably not. But the film did hook me. So the prospect of another one, right on the heels of that one, made at the same time and before any of the greatness of the first one and creative gusto of the first film could dissipate on the part of the filmmakers involved has me drooling, quite frankly. I can guarantee you that this man will be there opening day to see “The Two Towers”. I want to see the continuation of this magnificent quest. I want to see the battle of Helm’s Deep. I want to see the Ents. I want to see more of Gollum. And, of course, I want to see SARUMAN! I cannot friggin’ wait. That’s all there is to it. Needless to say, I am taking the day off of work, and seeing the film at least once opening day.

2. “The Gangs of New York”

You may remember that this film was on my list last year (it was number one, in fact, with a bullet or two). Well, it never came out, it’s supposed to come out this year, and I am still burning to see it. My Scorsese mania has passed (or has gone into hibernation, at least) but the concept of a new film by this master of cinema, one involving elements of both the western and gangster genres and with Daniel Day Lewis running around like a badass in a tophat and the sort of moustache that went out of style in the 1910’s has me galvanized with excitement. Also, we get to see Leonardo DiCaprio work again, which is an exciting concept to those of us who like him (and screw the rest of you idiots). Oh, and the trailer kicks some major ass. This movie looks like a hell of a time.

3. “Catch Me if You Can”

Speaking of DiCaprio, he’s also in this film, playing the most successful con man in U.S. history. This film is based on the true story of a man who defrauded banks, airlines and universities and got a ton of money in the process. The man then went on to become a respected member of the U.S. security community. If that isn’t enough to entice you, the movie is directed by Steven Spielberg (who masterfully guided many awesome films, but proved he’s still got it with this year’s “Minority Report”) and stars, aside from Leo, Tom Hanks, Martin Sheen, Jennifer Garner and Christopher Walken. It can’t help but be good.

4. “Confessions of a Dangerous Mind”

According to this film, and the man’s own autobiography, Chuck Barris was not only the host of the infamous Gong Show, but he was also a top secret agent of the U.S. government and an assassin. George Clooney is directing this oddball would-be gem and Sam Rockwell, one of the finest of modern character actors, gets his chance to carry the movie as the afore-mentioned Barris. Drew Barrymore and the irritatingly ubiquitous Julia Roberts are also in evidence. And the whole madcap romp is written by Charlie Kauffman, one of the absurd geniuses who pulled the strings on “Being John Malkovich”. I just have a really good, weird feeling about this one.

5. “Adaptation”

Contrary to popular opinion, I do not hate Nicolas Cage. When he’s good, he’s DAMN good. When he’s not, however, he’s (as my friend Ben describes him) A sleeping pill. He really sucks, and he has shown a real shitty aptitude for picking material lately (not to mention wives…. Lisa Marie PRESLEY? The Hell?). I didn’t have to see “Captain Corelli’s Mandolin” or “Family Man” to smell the odor of crap hanging about them. He hasn’t had a worthwhile film behind him since “Bringing Out the Dead”. And that was three years ago (well, it seems longer). But “Adaptation” is the sort of bizarre thing that Nic can bat right out of the park. It’s by the writer and director of “Being John Malkovich” and it requires him to (A) be fat (B) be twins (C) obsess over Meryl Streep and (D) do all sorts of weird things. This might be the sort of thing that can redeem Nic’s sorry ass and make me respect him again. Well, here’s hoping, anyway.

6. “Die Another Day”

Bond, James Bond. Pierce Brosnan is back. He beds a couple women, blows up a few things, drinks a few martinis, and saves the world again. And all is right with the world. Sure, “The World is Not Enough” was not my favorite Bond movie (it was my least favorite of all Brosnan’s films, though it did have a lot of good moments). But it was still damn entertaining. And aside from “The Man With the Golden Gun”, no Bond movie has been outright bad. They’re always a lot of fun. Where else can you get such a guarantee? Sure, I thought “XXX” had its charms. But it will be nice to kick back with the one secret agent you can most rely on. Nobody does it better, you know.

7. “Punch Drunk Love”

Adam Sandler and P.T. Anderson. There is no way in hell that these two names should be in the same sentence. And yet, P.T. Anderson, the man behind “Magnolia” and “Boogie Nights” has decided to make a film starring Adam Sandler, the desperate man-child imp and darling of stupid movie aficionados everywhere. Is Anderson finally making a misstep? Or does he see something that the rest of us don’t? This will either be a revelation or a trainwreck. Either way, I can’t wait to see it.

8. “Femme Fatale”

DE PALMA! I rest my case.

9. “Rules of Attraction”

A weird, dark little movie about teenagers and their various problems by the co-writer of “Pulp Fiction” (Roger Avery). I have a good feeling about this movie. It looks nice and twisted. Could be a good, bitter time.

10.”Solaris”

Clooney and Soderbergh together once more. This time in space. With James Cameron producing. It sounds like a meditation on life and death set in the cosmos: the sort of thing that movies like “2001: A Space Odyssey” have done before, but few others have attempted. This could really be something. And, whatever it is, I’m sure it won’t suck.

Well, there you have it: the ten films that I most have a hankering to check out. I don’t think any of them will really disappoint me (but I have been wrong before) and I’m not ruling out any dark horses that might sneak into the race. All in all, this year has been a good one and it should be interesting to see what lies ahead.

1997 / 194 Minutes / PG-13
Reviewed by Dale Nauertz

It may surprise anyone who knows me, but when I went into “Titanic”, I was actually in a bad mood. I had been working all night and then a few friends and I decided to go see this movie on its opening night.

Unbeknownst to me, however, all but three of us had purchased tickets to “Scream 2″. I had seen “Scream 2″ and I didn’t want to make the same mistake twice. I still haven’t, and I count myself lucky. So there were three of us for “Titanic” and three for “Scream 2″, which pissed me off because we had all gone there to watch something together. I mean, call me crazy, but that was what I thought. And then, on top of this, the only seats available to us were in the front row. Great. Three hours of staring straight up. My neck wasn’t going to like this. Needless to say, I was not a happy camper, not by any stretch of the imagination.

But within five minutes, I had forgotten all about that stuff.

Within five minutes, as I stared in awe at the wreckage of the Titanic as it lay on the ocean floor, trying to determine which footage was real and which was special effects, the movie had me. I was not even aware of it. So fully had I been enveloped that I scarcely realized I was watching a movie until I emerged, damp-cheeked, from the theater three hours later.

This movie was not just a movie. It was a time machine. And it still is. In three years I have seen this movie more times than I can count, and I cry each time. I am sucked in each time. I laugh at the jokes, I care about Jack and Rose, I feel sorry for Cal and feel malicious toward him at the same time. At some point, every time that I watch “Titanic”, this movie ceases to be a movie for me. That is quite rare. I can’t list all that many movies that have me that effortlessly spellbound. “American Beauty” is one. “Jaws” is another. But “Titanic” sucks me in and makes me feel more than any movie of the Nineties.

Why? Well, where do I start?

The structure. The structure of this movie is designed for maximum impact. It shows us the ship on the bottom of the sea, then it shows us on a computer monitor how it came apart, and then we see how the experience must have looked first-hand. We put a face on the people of Titanic. We see how exhilerating a sea voyage can be. We see two people from opposite classes fall in love, and we fall in love with them as they do so. Yes, we’ve seen people from opposite sides of the tracks fall in love many times before, but Cameron’s approach makes it all seem new.

The effects. You will believe that the Titanic is sailing. You will watch the sinking and simply stare gape-mouthed at the horror of it, too enthralled to even wonder how they did it.

The editing. The transitions in this film are some of the finest I have seen. They are nothing less than beautiful. So are many of the camera angles. The sets and production design of this movie, likewise, are gorgeous to behold. It’s even more astounding when you realize that Cameron invested at least two years of his life to get every detail just right. And it shows. Every shot is packed with little details, with activity, with something new to notice every single viewing. There are a wealth of little touches in Titanic for the repeat viewer to discover and savor.

The music. It is haunting and magnificent: rousing when needed, suspenseful when demanded.

The acting. Kate Winslet invests a great vitality and a huge amount of energy in this role. She IS Rose DeWitt Bukator. She is not the most beautiful woman ever to grace the silver screen, but she doesn’t need to be. It is her fire, her spunk that makes us care, that grips us and drags us along. This is not just another little spoiled rich girl, we can see why Jack is willing to go so far for her.

And DiCaprio. Wow. He is a revelation in this film. He has the charm and smooth, rough around the edges finesse of a young Paul Newman here. I don’t like him in many other movies (although you owe it to yourself to see him sink into the retarded role in the movie “What’s Eating Gilbert Grape”) but that doesn’t stop me from commending him here. He has a prescence here that carries us over any rough patches the movie might have (although I think most of those rough patches that others bring up are just tiny details they have blown out of proportion: I could pick “L.A. Confidential” apart just as easily if I wanted to, and I may want to someday, you have been warned) and any lines of dialogue that might be iffy. He deserved an Oscar for this performance, simply because I doubt we will ever see him this good again. And he was lightyears better than Nicholson, who just played a slight variation on the same character he has been playing for thirty years in “As Good as it Gets”.

Simply put: no other characters of the Nineties made me care about them as much as Jack and Rose. No other spectacle of the Nineties conveyed as much horror as the sinking of the Titanic. No other spectacle was quite as spectacular as seeing Titanic sail, the closest thing we will ever get to seeing it for real. And, in my own opinion, no other scene in film history was as heart-breakingly romantic as the “I’m Flying” scene.

I stand by that opinion, and shall defend it to my dying day. Billy Zane was an asshole, yes, but not without realistic touches. He was a three-dimensional character. He just wanted the woman he loved to love him back and he wanted to save his own ass. What is so unrealistic about that? He could have been better. But he also might have been worse.

Imagine if you will Charlie Sheen as Cal Hockley. Now shut up. You may not agree with me. But I don’t really care. I love this movie, truly love it. It touches my heart and makes me feel happy and sad and giddy and inspired. Maybe it doesn’t do the same for you. Maybe it does.

Either way, I can only speak for what it does for me. As for me, it shows me what I think true love could be like and it shows me what real loss is. It transports me back to a time that I will never experience and lets me see, perhaps, just a little of what this time was like. It affects me, in short, and it does so masterfully.

At the very least, it beats the hell out of “Scream 2″.

1993 / 96 Minutes / R
Reviewed by Dale Nauertz

All right, you primitive screwheads: listen up.

If I had to pick one movie as the flat-out most fun film of the Nineties, this would be it. It’s a rambunctious charge of action, comedy and camp with some sword and sorcery, chainsaw action and a touch of horror thrown in for good measure. It even pays humble tribute to the Three Stooges and Ray Harryhausen.

This film is the third in the Evil Dead line of films, although hopefully not the last (wishful thinking on my part, I know). “Evil Dead” was a flat-out, balls-to-the-wall horror film, dripping with blood and providing a surprising amount of chills with its meager amount of plot. The second still provided a generous dosage of chills, but was a bit wittier than the first and had more humor thrown in to lighten things up. The third installment is content to be just a comedy. And I am content with that as well. Frankly, I don’t need the horror. I love a good horror-comedy and this is one of the best. The horror-comedy is a proud filmmaking tradition that dates back to the Bowery Boys and their “Ghost Chasers” film. Martin and Lewis mined this field, Abbot and Costello met a fair share of ghouls in their time, and three guys in brown jumpsuits took the genre to a level of inspired perfection. And this movie, while not the best of its kind, certainly is on the upper tier.

The plot (such as there is) concerns a department store clerk named Ash (Bruce Campbell) who has already fought demons in the woods for two days when the story begins. And now he has been transported back to the Middle Ages to do it again.

He is understandably pissed. He doesn’t really care all that much about helping the medieval people. All he really wants is to go home and not have to fight demons any more. Is that too much to ask? Apparently so.

The main reason this movie works is Bruce Campbell. He is a gifted physical comedian and this movie puts him through the wringer. Much of the joy in the Evil Dead films is derived from a very extreme form of slapstick. These movies are really just Three Stooges flicks with flying body parts and lots of gore. And Bruce’s performance goes a great length to helping you buy into the whole thing. You really get the sense that this guy has been here, done this, seen-it-all before. He is cocky, arrogant, macho and more than a little on the slow side mentally. But he is not an overdone moron. He is more of a realistic moron, a more subtly crafted bonehead than we are used to seeing. You know guys like this, although you probably don’t like any of them as much as you will like Ash. It’s his bad qualities that make him human and, therefore, make us care. Bruce Campbell does this sort of thing better than anyone in the business. He can take a line like “Yeah, and maybe I’m a Chinese jet pilot” and not only say it with a straight face but make it seem like the most natural thing in the world. That is talent.

Speaking of boneheads, Ash’s opponents this time around are an army of skeletons. The effects here are not up to the standards of a Star Wars film but, again, that is part of the fun. The effects are rather quaint and old-fashioned and they still manage to bring a wide smile to one’s face. You don’t need excellent effects if you believe in them and have such a loving way with them, as this movie certainly does. It has such a fondness toward its army of sword-wielding skeletons that you can’t help but be swept along by it.

This whole movie is done in that same loving manner. It won’t win any Academy Awards and, frankly, it doesn’t want to. It wants to charm you, beguile you, make you laugh your head off. It means to put a big, goofy grin on your face and it achieves this as few other movies have. And it is definitely the most quotable movie of its decade. I don’t want to give away all of the choice lines, because discovering them on your own is half the fun of the movie. For sheer fun, accept no substitutes.

Bottom line: if you want a movie that will put a loony grin on your face, something that will cheer you up after a crappy day of work and just make you happy, then this movie is the king.

Hail to the king, baby.

1987 / 101 Minutes / R
Reviewed by Dale Nauertz

“The Running Man” is one of those unfortunate movies that really doesn’t measure up to the memories that you had of it as a child. Or, at least, a teenager. But Arnie is still in it, he still kicks a fair share of butt, and it’s got Jesse Ventura in it.

“The Running Man” is the story of Ben Richards (Arnold Schwarzenegger). Ben lives in one of those fascist police states that the future always seems to become in action films. He was a police officer until he was framed for murdering 1500 innocent people and thrown into a prison where, if you escape, your head explodes. Arnie, of course, finds a way to escape. But he is soon caught once again and forced to appear on the future’s highest rated game show: The Running Man. The object of this game is simple: survive and win your freedom. Don’t survive and, well, you’re dead. Yes, friends and neighbors, it’s just that simple. Of course Arnold is going to survive (like you couldn’t figure that one out) but the fun is in seeing how he does it, and who he has to kill in the process.

Arnie is his usual self in this movie, for better or worse, though his witty comebacks aren’t really that witty this time. And, aside from a joke about a Hawaiian shirt and a one-liner about breaking someone’s spine, all of his trademark one-liners are irrefutably cheesy. Yes, even cheesier than usual. And lamer. And most of the action sequences are fairly routine. A guy shows up with some kind of lethal device (i.e. a razor-sharp hockey stick, a chainsaw, a flame-thrower) and Arnold turns that device against its owner. Pretty standard, really. The film is sorta clumsy, the production design is very low budget and fairly tacky, and the supporting actors (with the exception of Richard Dawson and the always reliable Yaphet Kotto) are fairly worthless.

The things which save this movie from entirely sucking are its sense of wit in devising its future society (for example: seeing a truckload of American citizens trying to make it over the border to Mexico to make a better life for themselves) and the knowing performance of Richard Dawson. Dawson plays the host of this sadistic game show, and does so with immense wit and aplomb. He’s great here. But, then again, I should imagine that the host of “Family Feud” has just been waiting for years to poke fun at the institution. He’s great fun to watch here. Plus, you get to see future governor of Minnesota Jesse Ventura doing aerobics with huge Eighties hair and a skintight leotard. If that doesn’t amuse you, well, I just don’t know what to say.

But no matter. Arnold runs around in a yellow jumpsuit and kills people. If that sounds like fun to you, it’s at least worth a look.

1994 / 154 Minutes / R
Reviewed by Dale Nauertz

I am about to make a statement that I would likely not have made in 1994, when you could not swing a dead cat without hearing someone rave about the brilliance of Quentin Tarantino.

Here it goes.

“Pulp Fiction” is underrated.

That’s right. You heard me. By now, every film geek has moved on to their new god of cinema. Be it the Wachowski Brothers or Paul Thomas Anderson or M. Night Shalayman.

And, granted, each of those people is very talented. But let’s not forget Quentin. By the time that “Jackie Brown” was released, only his third effort behind the camera, the country had overdosed on Tarantino and his film was released to general indifference. Even though that movie was a great film, and it had the same mastery of dialogue and skill of editing and plot structure as “Pulp”, no one seemed to care. The public had gotten their fill of Mr. T, and I believe that is due, in no short part, to his imitators.

Tarantino started a revolution, and that revolution made us sick of him, even though it really wasn’t his fault. He couldn’t help it that he had made a masterpiece about criminals that, in turn, got every turd involving criminal behavior to be greenlighted by eager producers wishing to share some of Quentin’s glory. He couldn’t help it that movies like “Truth or Consequences: New Mexico” sucked. Or “Things to do in Denver When You’re Dead”. Or any number of shitty movies that tried to make their auteurs the next Tarantino.

But the reason that none of those imitations worked was simple. None of them possessed the assured craft that Quentin had. None of them had such heart and passion to back them up. None of them captured the indelible humanity of their characters the way that Quentin so effortlessly could.

It isn’t just his ear for dialogue, although that is a big component. The “Royale With Cheese” scene or the part in the Jackrabbit Slims restraunt just sound like the way that real people talk. No, there is more to it than that. It is the way he directs his actors to a level of excellence that few others have. Samuel L. Jackson believes in his character and in the choices of his character. That is why he works in the role, and inhabits it as if he were born to play it (which he was, if you ask me). Travolta understands that his character is trying so hard to be cool that he fails to understand the basics of human behavior, or the basics of any sort of logic, actually. This role made him a star for reasons that are all too apparent. Bruce Willis seems to know that his character is really not a lot more than just a charming sociopath.

The movie has its own reality. It’s own logic. It establishes its own rules and never breaks them. It grounds itself in its own, remarkable reality and that makes us believe it also.

And Tarantino also throws in little touches that make the characters all the more human. They are not just pawns of the plot, as they are in any of the movies by Tarantino’s pale imitators. When Bruce Willis returns to his apartment and risks being caught by the gangsters he is attempting to elude, it is not for a stash of money or drugs. It is for a precious family heirloom that his girlfriend has forgotten. When Travolta freaks out after the overdose of his boss’s girlfriend and takes her to the house of his drug dealer, they have a great debate over who will inject her with adrenaline that ranks with the best routines of Abbot and Costello or the Marx Brothers. When Jules experiences a miracle and wants to abandon his life of crime, we have come to know him so well that we accept his decision. We buy it. In a lesser movie, I doubt that we would have.

There are also all the little debatable touches. What’s in the briefcase? Are all the clocks in the movie really stopped at 4:20? Does the band-aid on the back of Marsellus’s neck really mean anything? The world may never know. And who wants to? Knowing would spoil the fun, and the debate. There are the plot twists that come out of left field, yet make sense. In reality, after all, anything can happen. There is the use of background music in lieu of a score. All these things make “Pulp Fiction” a more interesting motion picture than most of Tarantino’s peers could ever fashion.

And, above all, it is also one of the greatest rides in the history of motion pictures. So sit back, grab a quarter pounder with cheese, and enjoy the fun.

2002 / 95 Minutes / PG-13
Reviewed by Dale Nauertz

Sometimes, a film slides into the multiplexes already smelling of defeat. Some movies come out simply because they have to. They don’t really get released, they just escape. They get no real advertising, they get no real hype. They’re the sort of films that you see listed in the newspaper and you reply with a stunned “That came out!” or “What is that?!”

“Pluto Nash” is the latest film to be included in this strange phenomena. I’ve heard the title, and heard rumblings about it for what seems like several years now. It stars Eddie Murphy and has a supporting cast which includes Joe Pantoliano, Luiz Guzman, Burt Young and Randy Quaid. It’s got a lot of special (and, yes, to be honest, not so special) effects in it. It’s set on the moon and directed by Ron Underwood (the man behind the brilliant “Tremors” and the comic gem “City Slickers”). So why does it feel like the sort of film where there is practically an apology taped to the bottom of the poster. Sure, it’s not breaking any new ground. It certainly isn’t more than a couple notches above routine. But it’s better than “Men in Black 2″ or, God help us, “Eight Legged Freaks”. It deserves better than this bottom of the basement, let’s-release-it-and-get-this-over-with sort of vibe.

“Pluto Nash” is the story of a night club owner on the Moon (Eddie Murphy). A large conglomerate is muscling him into selling his club. Pluto, the club-owner, refuses. His night club explodes. Pluto and his friends then spring into action to find the party or parties responsible for the detonation of his night club and force them to make amends. The plot is just that simple. It isn’t an epic tale, to be sure. But at least there isn’t the standard device of one of Pluto’s buddies or wife being killed or kidnapped and him having to seek revenge or save them. His night club blows up and he’s agitated. That’s about it. But that’s sorta refreshing, in a rehashed sort of way.

The movie isn’t drop-dead funny, but it is rather clever. Much of the dialogue and many of the situations elicit genuine smiles, even if they don’t cause one to bust their gut. Much of this stuff is stuff we have seen before in some incarnation, but there is always a clever little pun or visual gag or a nice reference to keep one occupied. Plus, with the seemingly limitless cast of famous and interesting people that just keep popping up during the course of this film, it becomes amusing simply on that level. The film is laid back almost to the point of laziness, and it never takes itself as seriously as maybe it should. I know it isn’t much, but the people inhabiting these universe never seem overly concerned about it either. It’s sorta refreshing, though, to see a movie where the characters don’t have to scream their points, where the production seems to have been mounted with care: the Moon looks like an absolute shithole here, but it’s on purpose and it’s a great gag. It is, after all, a tourist trap without gravity in this film. It’s like Las Vegas with Oxygen domes, complete with its own version of Frank Sinatra (Jay Mohr, crooning convincingly).

It’s not an amazing film. When it comes out on DVD, it’s the sort of movie you might put on just as background noise. But Eddie Murphy hits subtle notes in his portrayal of Pluto, Rosario Dawson is required to do more and to better effect than in “Men in Black 2″ (though she and Will Smith had better chemistry than she and Eddie do), there is a nice game of futuristic pool between Eddie and Peter Boyle and you get to see Pam Grier kick some ass as Pluto’s caring mother. Oh, and I loved Randy Quaid as a horny, outdated robot with huge guns and a borderline creepy smile. Whenever he was onscreen, I smiled. I can’t give him much more credit than that, but that was enough to make me happy.

I wasn’t expecting a lot from “Pluto Nash” (the film’s studio and ad campaign seem to have fostered such diminished expectations) and I didn’t get anything ingenious. But I did have a pleasant time. Sure, there are better things than merely “pleasant”. But, as anyone who had to sit through “Eight Legged Freaks” will attest, there are far worse things than that too.

2002 / 124 Minutes / PG-13
Reviewed by Dale Nauertz

So help me God, I actually enjoyed “XXX”. It’s not a great film. It’s doesn’t revolutionize the spy movie genre (as its ads might have you believe) and it won’t be replacing the Bond movies any time soon. But at least its heart is in the right place. And its brain is missing, which is not a huge liability in a film of this sort.

“XXX” is sort of like what you might get if you cross-pollinated any Bond film with “The Dirty Dozen”. After an agent in a tuxedo is killed at a Rammstein concert, the NSA (led by the scar-faced Samuel L. Jackson) decides to recruit someone expendable to infiltrate a shady group of Czechoslovakian anarchists. Enter Xander Cage (Vin Diesel), who does things like steal the cars of senators and videotape himself crashing them so he can sell them on the internet. He is something of an underground celebrity on the net for his illegal antics. He is so high profile, in fact, that when Sam decides to send an anarchist to catch one (a questionable strategy, to say the least) he grabs Vin and gives him a day’s worth of “training”. The “training” involves dropping him in the middle of Colombian drug country. If he makes it out alive, he’s in the organization. He makes it out alive and whoosh, it’s off to Prague. So Xander soon gets into a position where he is relied upon to save the world. And what will he do?

Aside from the unique protagonist, this movie follows the Bond movie structure more faithfully than some of the Bond films themselves. It’s got the M character in the guise of Jackson (who is cooler than hell in this film, almost reason enough to purchase a ticket), it’s got the Q character in a gung ho techno geek, it’s got a cool car (a GTO rather than an Aston Martin) outfitted with all sorts of cool gadgetry, it’s got the part where the good guy and the bad guy sit around and the bad guy explains his strategy of world conquest. In short, it’s like a Bond film with a more gruff hero. It’s just as much a Bond ripoff as “Our Man Flint” or any of Dean Martin’s Matt Helm films. But it’s a rather entertaining one, and that is the film’s saving grace. I also liked the little twists on the Bond formula that it throws in. I liked how the Bondish car was a muscle car. I liked how the bad guy didn’t want to control the world so much as destroy the way it worked. I liked how the bad guy and the good guy went to a rave rather than sitting down to some kind of elegant banquet. I really liked when Vin Diesel pulls up in his car, spots the techno geek and yells “Hey, Geek!” I also liked Asia Argento as the villain’s moll. She had a lot more gusto and bitterness than the average Bond girl. She can actually handle a gun better than Vin and she didn’t automatically melt whenever she saw him. She has spunk and backbone and I liked her. (She also fulfills the requirement of looking real nice in a bikini.)

Unfortunately, the film doesn’t quite have enough action. There is a scene in a rave that really doesn’t establish anything at all. A few moments sort of drag along. Some of the one-liners are lame. And the techno geek character was just a little much. He’s fairly irritating. And the villain? Well, he’s your average Euro-trash terrorist type. He’s got the big hair, the big accent, the big schemes and the permanent sneer. He locks a group of men in a room and gasses them in high Bond villain style. He even lives in a castle that looks suspiciously like Rivendell in “The Fellowship of the Ring”, except that this fortress has a fountain filled with bikini-clad women in front of it (the 2002 equivalent of the go-go room in “Our Man Flint” and, incidentally, the sort of feature I want in my castle). When the film runs out of things to blow up, it largely coasts by on the charisma of its lead actor.

Good thing, therefore, that Vin Diesel actually has enough charisma to carry this film along when it occasionally sputters. He carries the film around on his broad, tatooed shoulders and proves that he can. A lot of his dialogue was more entertaining than it had any right to be. I had my doubts about him (he was the best thing about “The Fast and the Furious”, but that ain’t saying much) in a film like this, but my doubts evaporated by the time he drives that Corvette off the bridge. I loved that moment, because all my fears about this film were gone. “The Fast and the Furious” was too in love with its technology, too infatuated with its cars, too full of its own machismo to worry about the finer points of plot or character. Vin had a good character in that film, but I suspect he brought it all by himself, because Paul Walker’s character was thinner than the paper that the script was written on. “XXX” hasn’t got much of a plot, but it tries to have one, and it’s got a lot of charm and a surprising amount of wit. Witness, for example, the moment when one henchman yells “Catch him quick. Kill him slow.” Or witness the surprising suspense generated by the snowboarding/avalanche sequence (I never thought it would work, I stand corrected). When I found myself on the edge of my seat as Prague faced annihilation, I knew that the movie was working.

“XXX” isn’t great cinema. But it is a great deal of fun. And, really, that’s more than I expected and enough for me to encourage you to give it a shot. Movies like this are cinematic junk food. This one goes down easy and doesn’t leave a bad aftertaste. And, really, that’s enough.