SCOTT VON DOVIAK'S GUILTY PLEASURES:

BENEATH THE PLANET OF THE APES (1970)



If your weaknesses include pre-Star Wars sci-fi of the '70s and monkey movies, it really doesn't get any better than the Planet of the Apes series. I would classify the first Apes movie as a genuine classic, no guilt required. The same can't be said about the first sequel – at least, not by me and certainly not with a straight face. For one thing, star Charlton Heston only agreed to a few days of shooting, so he disappears a few minutes into the movie and is essentially replaced by James Franciscus as a newly arrived astronaut from the past. Franciscus appears to have been cast for his resemblance to Heston…that is, until late in the movie when you actually see both actors in the same shot and realize what a freakish-looking human being Charlton Heston really was. His performance may not be fondly remembered, but Franciscus did give us an immortal reading of the line, "My God! It's a city of…apes!" Beneath also offers Barney Miller's James "Inspector Luger" Gregory as a gorilla and Victor Buono as the leader of a race of underground mutants who worship an atomic bomb. Best of all, it has the most abruptly nihilistic ending of all time, as Charlton Heston attempts to put an end to the series by blowing up the planet. Fortunately for us Ape-heads, it didn't work.

O.C. AND STIGGS (1985)



This one is close to indefensible. I know Robert Altman loved all his children equally, but pundits like myself are supposed to be more discerning. Rationally, I know O.C. and Stiggs ranks with bottom tier Altman like Kansas City, HEALTH and the odious Pret-a-Porter, but for some ineffable reason I love it anyway. Goodness knows the leads (Daniel Jenkins as O.C., Neill Barry as Stiggs) are a uniquely uncharismatic pair – at times downright repellent, in fact. The plot is nonexistent even by Altman standards – two teenagers bum around suburban Arizona, torment their hated neighbor and conspire to bring King Sunny Ade to town for a concert. Yet there's something about the lazy summer vibe and tacky-tiki setting that sucks me in, something fundamentally amusing about applying the Altman filter to the John Hughes template, and even something geekily satisfying about the way Altman weaves in references to other movies, whether his own (the continuing campaign of Hal Philip Walker from Nashville) or others (Dennis Hopper reprising his Apocalypse Now role). If the filmography of Robert Altman is a vast palace of wonders, O.C. and Stiggs is the pink flamingo on the lawn. He wouldn't have it any other way.

POINT BREAK (1991)



I know the release date is 1991, but I like to think of Point Break as the last movie of the '80s. It's goofy and way over the top, but it doesn't get bogged down in CGI and fireballs and seizure-iffic editing – it's pre-Michael Bay action filmmaking at its most testosterone-poisoned, so naturally it could only have been directed by Kathryn Bigelow. The role of quarterback-turned-FBI agent Johnny Utah (Johnny Utah! Genius! The perfect genetic splicing of Johnny Unitas and Joe Montana!) fit Keanu Reeves like the wetsuit he often wears in the movie; if you were going to pick one agent to infiltrate a gang of surfers who rob banks while wearing Reagan and Nixon masks, it would be him. Of course, he needs a crazy partner with a fondness for meatball subs, which is where Gary Busey enters the picture. And he needs a worthy adversary to brah-mance, a golden god Zen master of surfing and bank robbery and all that is extreme in life – and who better for that role than the star of that cheesiest of all '80s action-fests, Road House? Point Break is basically a two-hour dick-measuring contest, which Reeves wins by jumping out of a plane without a parachute and using his sheer dudeness to fall faster than Patrick Swayze.

THE FAST & THE FURIOUS (2001)



Let me be clear: I speak only of the first of the fasts and the furiouses, not the 2 stinky 2 believe sequels. The 2001 original is a supercharged street racing thriller straight out of the old Roger Corman playbook. Ideally, it should be viewed not in an air-conditioned cineplex with stadium seating and THX sound, but at a hot, sticky drive-in with a case of cold beer on hand. The opening half hour offers up a bare-knuckle brawl, a drag race down a deserted city street, a high-speed police chase, a surprise attack by an Asian motorcycle gang, and finally a little down time at a house party where two gorgeous young women lock lips. It was at this point, I well recall, that someone in the audience behind me jumped up out of his seat and yelled "I love this movie!" to uproarious laughter and applause. It's that kind of picture. Sure, the lead is limp noodle Paul Walker, and Michelle Rodriguez is at maximum glare-and-pout annoyance, but for once Vin Diesel is the right man in the right place. His name alone qualifies him as an astute casting decision, but his sleek chrome dome and rumbling voice seal the deal.

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Contributor: Scott Von Doviak