The Screengrab : waterworld

The Screengrab Highlight Reel: March 28-April 3, 2009

Scott Von Doviak — Fri, 03 Apr 2009 21:00:00 GMT

Hey, gang. It’s your ol’ pal, the Cost-Dawg. Some friends of mine told me about this very amusing “Waterworld II” prank y’all pulled on April Fool’s Day. I got a good chuckle out of it. Truth is, I’d never make a sequel to Waterworld, a movie for which I drank my own pee. (Real pee? That’s a Hollywood secret, kids.) However, I thought this would be a good opportunity to let you know I am hard at work on a follow-up to The Postman. I want to call it The Postman Always Rings Twice, but some hardasses at the studio are giving me grief over that title for some reason.

While I was checking out your site, I happened to read your list April Fools: The 35 Funniest Movie Characters of All Time (Parts One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven and Eight). I dunno, folks, I think you might have forgotten somebody. If you need a hint, I got two words for you: swing and vote. Get me? Bet you feel pretty silly now.

As for the rest of your stuff, most of it made me feel like I’d rather be back on the set of Waterworld guzzling my own whiz, but I guess these were okay:

Reviews: Sugar, Alien Trespass, The Song of Sparrows, Gigantic, Adventureland

The Screengrab Library of Unproduced Screenplays: David Lynch and Mark Frost's "One Saliva Bubble"

White Elephant Blogathon: Flesh Gordon

Ozsploitation! “Mad Dog Morgan” (1976)

Forgotten Films: "Strange Invaders" (1983)

Unwatchable #39: “The Invisible Maniac”

Morning Deal Report: “Waterworld” Sequel Washes Ashore

Scott Von Doviak — Wed, 01 Apr 2009 13:00:00 GMT

They said it would never happen, but Kevin Costner will grow a new set of gills for Waterworld Freezes Over, the much-belated sequel to the notorious 1995 mega-bomb Waterworld. “Waterworld was always intended as a trilogy,” says Universal spokesman Heywood Jablomi. “Enough time has passed that the original movie has acquired a whole new generation of fans via DVD and cable television. They don’t even know Waterworld was a colossal disaster that nearly cost me my job – they just want more.” Universal is so bullish on the sequel that Costner has actually been signed to a two-picture deal, with the proposed third installment, Steamworld, tentatively scheduled for summer 2013.

The Criterion Collection will release a deluxe, 3-disc edition of The Day the Clown Cried, the long-lost Jerry Lewis masterpiece about alcoholic circus clown Helmut Doork, who entertains children at Auschwitz as they are led into the gas chambers. The controversial film was once described by Harry Shearer, one of the few people to have seen it, as “really awe-inspiring, in that you are rarely in the presence of a perfect object. This was a perfect object. This movie is so drastically wrong, its pathos and its comedy are so wildly misplaced, that you could not, in your fantasy of what it might be like, improve on what it really is.” The Criterion edition contains a fully restored version of the film, along with a documentary on its making, Lewis’s first interview on the subject in more than 30 years, and a special 210-minute version of Hardly Working prepared specifically for this edition by Lewis.

Last but not least, we’re finally able to announce a piece of news we’ve been sitting on for months. Troma Pictures has purchased the movie rights to our humble blog, and Screengrab: The Motion Picture will be coming soon to a theater near you. John Waters is tentatively set to direct, and preliminary casting includes Larry the Cable Guy as Phil Nugent, Rob Schneider as Paul Clark, and Brad Pitt as yours truly. Further details are available here.

Related:
Martin Scorsese to Direct Final Harry Potter Movie

DVD Digest for November 4, 2008

Paul Clark — Tue, 04 Nov 2008 15:00:00 GMT

This week is a big one for classic TV on DVD, plus an old-school sci-fi franchise gets the Blu-Ray treatment.

DVD of the Week: My pick this week is only applicable if you have a Blu-Ray DVD player, which exempts a number of Screengrab readers including myself. However, if you have a Blu-Ray player, nothing this week can touch the release of Planet of the Apes: 40 Year Evolution Blu-Ray Collection (Fox). Of course, even fans of the series acknowledge that the Planet of the Apes films are widely uneven. Yet unlike most franchise box sets which pile the lion’s share of extras on the classic films and leave little for the others, Fox has lavished plenty of care on all of the Apes films, regardless of quality. The biggest news for fans is the newly-restored cut of Conquest of the Planet of the Apes, which went largely unseen since the 1972 studio test screenings. According to Screengrab’s own Scott Von Doviak, the new version of Conquest is much more darker and violent than the version that was eventually released in theatres. The set also contains a number of new extras, including new making-of featurettes for each of the sequels, a documentary on the evolution from Pierre Boulle’s original novel to the screen, and isolated score tracks for each of the sequels. In other words, everything that one could possibly need to satisfy even the most ravenous Planet of the Apes fan, although for the rest of all the movies are also sold separately.

For us non-Blu-Ray types, the big news this week is the release of the Fraggle Rock Complete Series Collection (Lionsgate), which collects all 96 episodes of Jim Henson’s classic HBO series in a massive 20-disc box set. In addition, the collection includes an exclusive new Fraggle Rock short directed by Cory Edwards, who will direct the upcoming Fraggle Rock feature film, which I hadn’t heard about until today. Other notable TV on DVD releases include: Batman: The Complete Animated Series (Warner), Futurama: Bender’s Game (Fox, also Blu-Ray), Little House on the Prairie: The Complete Television Series (Lionsgate), and Reaper Season 1 (Lionsgate).

The highest-profile recent release coming to DVD today is the big-screen update of the classic series Get Smart (Warner, also Blu-Ray). This week also brings the indie trifecta of Brad Anderson’s Transsiberian (First Look, also Blu-Ray), Luke Wilson in Henry Poole Is Here (Anchor Bay), and Jim Broadbent and Colin Firth in When Did You Last See Your Father? (Sony). And for the kids, there’s Alvin and the Chipmunks Special Edition (Fox) and Shrek the Halls (Paramount).

The annual onslaught of holiday DVDs continues this year with the A Christmas Story Ultimate Collector’s Edition (Warner, also Blu-Ray), although for my money nothing beats watching this over and over on TNT. Also of note this week is the re-pressing of two John Cassavetes classics, A Woman Under the Influence (Criterion) and The Killing of a Chinese Bookie (Criterion). Finally, there’s the Waterworld Extended Edition (Universal), in case that’s your kind of thing.

Finally, this week’s non-ape Blu-Ray only releases include Monster’s Ball (Lionsgate) and Universal Soldier (Lionsgate). And honestly, I’d be hard-pressed to come up with a more unlikely pairing. Satantango and Rush Hour? Pretty Woman and Irreversible? I’ll have to think about this one…

Unwatchable #90: "The Bat People"

Scott Von Doviak — Thu, 29 May 2008 18:30:00 GMT

Our fearless – and quite possibly senseless – movie janitor is watching every movie on the IMDb Bottom 100 list. Join us now for another installment of Unwatchable.

It’s been quite a journey through the animal kingdom here lately in our Unwatchable series. We’ve met the marsupial werewolves down under in Howling III and the mutant arachnids of Horrors of Spider Island, but nothing can prepare you for the bat people of, er, The Bat People!

In this 1974 tale o’ terror, Dr. John Beck is a bat specialist with a seemingly permanent “Who farted?” expression pasted on his face. His wife Cathy just wants to do a little skiing, but this is a working vacation and there are caves to be toured. She’s reluctant to go along, but once she’s down in the dank underground, the thought hits her: hey, we’ve never done it in a cave before! Their subterranean nookie is curtailed when Cathy falls through into a sub-chamber and a bat divebombs into her hair. John comes to her rescue, but is bitten in the process. A short time later he begins to have convulsions, accompanied by visions of bats pursuing his wife in a black, existential void. This understandably frightens the other people on the ski lift and in the hot tub, so he goes to the doctor to begin the Pasteur treatment for rabies (that’s a series of 20 painful injections in the groinal area, for you laymen).

Despite the treatment, John begins to suffer from some side effects similar to rabies, such as mood swings and dry mouth, and some not so similar, such as actually turning into some sort of, I guess you’d call it, BAT-MAN. When women start turning up dead, the sheriff comes sniffing around, as he can’t help but notice John has a bad habit of leaving incriminating evidence at every crime scene. A series of dull chase sequences ensue, and I think somewhere in the middle John takes refuge in a barn and befriends a philosophical wino, though I may have dozed off and dreamed that part. The plural of the movie’s title is finally explained in the twist ending, which I wouldn’t dare give awa…oh, okay, his wife turns into a bat person, too.

If The Bat People is notable at all (hint: it’s not), it’s as one of makeup guru Stan Winston’s earliest efforts, though I suspect he’d leave it off his resume if the IMDb didn’t exist. When we finally get a full view of the transformed John, he looks less like a bat than an extra who stole a mask from the set of the Planet of the Apes TV series. The movie is also memorable for the insanely oppressive score by Artie Kane, who went on to compose the music for Waterworld. I don’t remember what that sounds like, but here Kane is like a bull in a music shop, bludgeoning keyboards, blaring trumpets, mauling harps, and beating marimbas within an inch of their lives. Apparently he got someone’s attention.

I can’t really get too worked up about The Bat People one way or the other, honestly, so let’s give it two Maurys and be done with it.

Previously on Unwatchable:

91. Horrors of Spider Island
92. I Accuse My Parents
93. Howling III: The Marsupials
94. Invasion of the Neptune Men
95. Marci X

Apocalypse Now and Then: Ten Great End-of-the-World Movie Scenarios, Part 2

Phil Nugent — Thu, 13 Mar 2008 21:00:00 GMT

THE QUIET EARTH (1985)

Suppose they gave an apocalypse and nobody came? That’s the question faced by the always-engaging Bruno Lawrence in Geoff Murphy’s delightful little sci-fi thriller, The Quiet Earth. Made in New Zealand before it was home to hobbits and every low-budget syndicated action show on television, the movie opens with scientist Lawrence awaking one day to find that, due to an experiment gone rather substantially awry, he is the last person left on Earth. By far the film’s greatest charms lie in the subsequent scenes, where Lawrence tries to balance his attempt to find out what happened (and if there is any way of correcting it) with his somewhat bemused attitude towards being the last living human being on the planet. This bemusement, unsurprisingly, slowly degenerates into neurosis and from there into near-madness as Lawrence transforms from the sort of quirkiness one expects from a guy who lives alone and doesn’t get out much into outright loneliness-inspired lunacy. (It is in these scenes that Lawrence has a brief but highly amusing conversation with Adolf Hitler.) When he finally discovers that there is at least one other living person on the planet — in a scene that can only be described as the post-apocalyptic genre’s biggest meet-cute — the movie shifts gears into a more conventional science fiction contrivance, but it’s kept alive by swell performances from Lawrence and the Maori actor Peter Smith, as well as some highly inventive and rapid-fire camerawork from director Murphy. The Quiet Earth is an interesting take on the whole genre, and it nicely blends its psychological approach with the typical what-would-you-do-if-you-were-the-last-man-on-earth gameplaying seen in such movies.

THE BED SITTING ROOM (1969)

The end of the world as brought to you by giggly British weirdos. Directed by Richard Lester, it depicts what's left of England after World War III, which, we're told, lasted "three minutes and forty-seven seconds... including the peace treaty." The cast includes Ralph Richardson in the title role (after he mutates), Michael Hordern, Peter Cook, Dudley Moore, Spike Milligan, Marty Feldman, and Rita Tushingham, who trumps Shelley Plimpton by giving birth (to Christ knows what) after she's been pregnant for thirteen months. This is one of the most truly horrifying visions of the end of the world ever caught on film, because it's supposed to be a comedy but there isn't a laugh in it. It is the anti-Dr. Strangelove, demonstrating the desperate inability of talented people to make you laugh at its subject matter, and so making the subject matter seem terrifying to a degree that sober-faced when-they-drop-the-bomb movies such as On the Beach can only dream about.

THE BIRDS (1963)

This Hitchcock film has been the subject of considerable textual analysis and speculation as to its symbolic meaning, but I like to think that Sir Alfred made it just so that he boast that they'd let him. Imagine what the pitch must have sounded like: "So, Alfred, it's called The Birds, huh? What's it about?" "Check the title, Einstein. It's about the birds." "Birds, huh. The birds, though? Is it about any particular birds?" "Nope, it's about the birds. Pigeons, parakeets, ostriches, penguins, crows, buzzards, ducks, tufted titmice... " "I see. And what do the birds do exactly?" "Turn on us. Wage war on us. Peck our eyes out." "But... why do the birds do this?" "How the hell am I supposed to know? You think I speak toucan?" "Okay, fair point. How do we stop the birds in the end?" "We don't. They kick our ass. Make Rod Taylor their bitch." "Un-huh... so... um... " "Hang on, I'm sorry, I have to take this. Mildred, did you get ahold of the gentleman with the bulldozer yet? I really need to get those bags containing the money I made off Psycho out of the driveway, they're blocking the jet... " Hitchcock himself fought with the studio to prevent them from actually tacking the words "The End" onto the final shot of our feathered friends gathering to welcome the new day, sensing that it would count as overkill.

TIME OF THE WOLF (2003)

When Michael Haneke, the European director known as the master of everyday horror for his uncanny ability to wrench suspense out of the slightest disruptions to bourgeois culture, decided to make a post-apocalyptic film, it was dead certain that it wouldn’t be a typical mosh pit of explosions, zombies, and atonal stings on the soundtrack. And, indeed, Haneke succeeded in making one of the quietest, most subtle visions of the end of the world imaginable — but also one of the most disturbing, and probably the most depressing. Haneke gives us almost no clue as to what happened to bring about the end of civilization; all we know is that the authorities are gone, the power is out, the water is tainted and no help seems to be coming from anywhere. As with all of his films, we aren’t overwhelmed with gore or beaten over the head with abject terror: instead, we’re presented with the even more profound horror of constant uncertainty and abject helplessness. When Isabelle Huppert’s family arrives at their rural cabin in hopes of waiting out the nebulous catastrophe that’s taken place, they experience the one moment of hope in the entire film; Haneke, of course, strips them of it swiftly and heartlessly, and before you know it, Huppert and her children are utterly alone, with no more possessions than they can carry and no one to protect them against a world that has grown almost instantly feral. Soon enough, they are huddled in an abandoned train station where xenophobia and sexual assault are almost tangible stinks in the air and where they are completely at the mercy of the few people bothering to pass themselves off as authority figures. Through it all, very little in the way of violence or disruption actually takes place: what chills the soul is the omnipresent fear, the certain knowledge that just as it did in a fatal and inexplicable moment at their cabin, everything can go horribly wrong at any moment and there is no safe place, no safe time. A remarkably skillful, effectively understated, and powerfully upsetting drama that conjures an apocalypse that is terrifying because it is so small and petty.

WATERWORLD (1995) & THE POSTMAN (1997)

It is the mark of a true artist that he is never satisfied with his work. Take Kevin Costner, for example. Unhappy as a mere sex symbol, he transformed himself into an Oscar-winning director, but that, too, was not enough for this nobly ambitious man. He took the only logical next step: spending close to a third of a billion dollars making two ridiculous, overblown, awful post-apocalyptic epics that would almost single-handedly destroy his career. Now that’s dedication! First came the notorious Waterworld, an early global warming scare flick that became much more famous for its colossal cost overruns (and its feeble box office) than it did for its clunky story. In it, Costner plays Mariner, a gill-festooned mutant piss-drinker who comes into contact with a bunch of unmotivated pirates called the Smokers. The leader of the Smokers is portrayed by Dennis Hopper, in full-blown Hindenburg mode as always; pitted against the supremely wooden Costner, he is as overwrought and bombastic as the Mariner is stone-faced and boring. Between the two of them, you might just be able to build one decent performance, which would be one more than is featured in Waterworld. The movie, which cost $200 million and made back about thirty bucks, was such a disaster that Costner, never a man to rest on his laurels, decided that the best way to follow it up would be to basically make the same exact movie, except this time he would direct and star in it. Of course, The Postman cost a mere $80 million, not even enough for half a Waterworld, but it made up for it by being even worse. At least the former had decent sets and costumes, whereas The Postman was a jerry-rigged piece of junk that still cost a king’s ransom and yet ended up looking bad, sounding bad, and probably even smelling bad. In this post-apocalyptic world, civilization has collapsed and America has been taken over by the Promise Keepers. Costner, a bad movie actor who here portrays a bad Shakespearian actor, poses as a postal carrier from the reformed U.S. government in order to cadge free meals off of local yokels, but soon enough, he is dispensing real hope to the legions of downtrodden mopes who have to appear in this cruddy movie. The movie only once loses its putrid reek of vanity project, and that’s at the end, a jaw-dropping exercise in the inability to suspend disbelief: the Promise Keepers, despite their inhuman levels of military discipline, have a rule that anyone can be the boss if they defeat the current leader (played by a nose-holding Will Patton) in a punch-out. Naturally, the mighty Costner prevails, and then turns to the vast army of murderous brutes who have been marauding the countryside for a decade and says "There’s gonna be peace!" They all shrug noncommittally and wander off to become chartered accountants or something, and we’re treated to another replay of the scene where Kev makes a little girl cry by wrapping himself up in the American flag. In the annals of postal lore, this thing rates slightly below Patrick Henry Sherrill’s bloodthirsty Oklahoma rampage as a point of pride.

— Phil Nugent, Leonard Pierce

Click here for Part 1.