Tag Archives: Richard Lynch

Bad Dreams (1988, Andrew Fleming)

At the end of Bad Dreams, as GNR’s Sweet Child of Mine starts up over the end credits… I thought, at least director (and co-writer) Fleming has good taste in music. Turns out he didn’t want the song and a studio exec with a better ear put it in the film.

Bummer. It would’ve been nice to be able to pay the film a complement, even if it was a backhanded one. Bad Dreams is a crappy horror movie. There are more offscreen peculiars one could discuss but I’m going to skip them because it’s not a worthwhile rabbit hole. Though maybe it’d be a good inclusion in a piece about late eighties movies, including critical response, cable, home video, whatever.

But I’m not interested enough. I suffered through it real-time. Just like I suffered through Bad Dreams real-time.

The film is not about bad dreams, though we occasionally get to see some bad dreams so Fleming can “reveal” the story back a few minutes and a character here and there reincarnated. It the first shock death didn’t happen… well, Bad Dreams might have had an entertainingly wacky third act. Good thing Fleming turns back the clock so as to avert that possibility. Wouldn’t want Bad Dreams to be entertaining. At all.

There are a lot of problems with the film and most of them involve Fleming, either in the writing, in how he composes shots (safe for pan and scan and home video), in how he doesn’t direct the actors. Top-billed Jennifer Rubin ought to be able to get something out of the part—she’s a coma patient, awake thirteen years after her seventies cult (led by a bad, but appropriately creepy Richard Lynch—the nose hairs alone are blood-curdling) did the mass suicide thing. Only it’s apparently supposed to be a secret lost to time. The police couldn’t confirm any gas cans so they thought the house just exploded on its own, even though there were apparently documentaries about the cult where they talk about how they all want to die. I mean, Sy Richardson is godawful as the cop, but it doesn’t seem like he’s supposed to be any stupider than anyone else in Bad Dreams. The film’s characters are really dumb, with the supposedly smart ones (shrinks Harris Yulin and Bruce Abbott the stupidest of all), but… the mass suicide thing isn’t a stretch. Yet Fleming treats its reveal like a big deal. Or as big of a deal as you can when you’re shooting scenes soap operas would be embarrassed about.

I occasionally wondered if Bad Dreams started its life as some kind of TV movie—it has a lot of supporting characters, who are all one shade of bad (Susan Ruttan’s pretty awful, Elizabeth Daily’s not good, Dean Cameron tries hard and fails) but some of it’s obviously Fleming’s fault. It couldn’t make it as a TV movie, not in acting, directing, writing. Not even in the eighties. Though the terrible costumes definitely make it in the eighties. Young empathetic but clearly incompetent doctor Abbott—who doesn’t think Rubin needs any mental health care after waking up from the coma because he wants to romance her and tells her about it frequently in the second act—wears his denim collared shirt with a tie. The scariest thing in Bad Dreams is Abbott’s wardrobe.

The plot has Rubin in a mental hospital because they can’t find her family so she doesn’t get to leave. They don’t address the aging in the coma thing, from tween to twenty-something. The film’s got zero curiosity about its characters. Cameron, Daily, Ruttan, they’re all in group with Rubin; Abbott runs the group (badly), falls for endlessly traumatized Rubin. The film’s characterization of people getting mental health treatment is real bad. Real bad. Even if you factor in its the eighties, Abbott and Harris don’t even worry about people around the hospital dying until at least four in. Bad Dreams exists in the universe where lawsuits haven’t been discovered yet.

Technically, everything’s pretty bad, quite frankly. Alexander Gruszynski’s isn’t as incompetent as Jeff Freeman’s editing. Jay Ferguson’s music? Bad. The film also loads up The Chambers Brothers’s Time Has Come Today whenever there’s a flashback, which feels often. Fleming’s not just inept, he’s also obvious. His filmmaking is unpleasant to watch. And the cover of My Way when Cameron has his big—and terribly directed—freakout set piece? Icky bad.

Bad Dreams, in general, is icky bad. It’s got nothing going for it. Not even the eighty minute runtime. It’s too dumb even for eighty minutes.

And I didn’t even get into the lousy Bates house knock-off, which ends up being there for Fleming to pretend he’s Andrew Wyeth. Fleming does such a bad job of it, you forget he’s showing an actual ambition for once.

0/4ⓏⒺⓇⓄ

CREDITS

Directed by Andrew Fleming; screenplay by Fleming and Steven E. de Souza, based on a story by Fleming, Michael Dick, P.J. Pettiette, and Yuri Zeltser; director of photography, Alexander Gruszynski; edited by Jeff Freeman; music by Jay Ferguson; production designer, Ivo Cristante; costume designers, Deborah Everton, Ronald Leamon, and Patricia Norris; produced by Gale Anne Hurd; released by 20th Century Fox.

Starring Jennifer Rubin (Cynthia), Bruce Abbott (Dr. Alex Karmen), Richard Lynch (Harris), Harris Yulin (Dr. Berrisford), Sy Richardson (Detective Wasserman), Dean Cameron (Ralph), Susan Ruttan (Miriam), Susan Barnes (Connie), Louis Giambalvo (Ed), Elizabeth Daily (Lana), Damita Jo Freeman (Gilda), and Charles Fleischer (Ron the Pharmacist).


Puppet Master III: Toulon's Revenge (1991, David DeCoteau)

Puppet Master III: Toulon’s Revenge is Puppet Master Origins. Set in WWII Berlin, Guy Rolfe is a concerned old man. He sees his neighbors in fear of the Nazis so he got some string and he got some wood, he did some carving and he was good. Anti-Nazi civilians–mostly kids–came running so they could hear the old German puppeteer. Except maybe Rolfe’s playing a French guy?

Doesn’t matter.

Rolfe’s puppets are living creatures, however. He constructs the puppets, then brings them to life through scientific means; the newly animate puppets hang out with Rolfe and wife Sarah Douglas.

Enter Nazi amateur puppeteer Kristopher Logan, who reports Rolfe’s apparently living puppets and his anti-Nazi sentiment to Gestapo major Richard Lynch. Lynch already has his own subplot going about he and scientist Ian Ambercrombie are trying to reanimate dead soldiers.

From the start of the film, it’s clear director DeCoteau is being thoughtful. Even with clear low budget trappings, DeCoteau is enthusiastic and inventive. He does extremely well with the empty Berlin streets–empty means less set decoration and no extras–creating this sandbox where the action can play out.

Because it turns out Rolfe’s puppets aren’t just made to entertain kids, they’re also made to kill Nazis. And they kill a lot of Nazis. Toulon’s Revenge actually turns the corner once it fully embraces being a Nazi-killing movie. It comes at the perfect time too.

C. Courtney Joyner’s script gives the actors a mixed bag as far as material. Rolfe’s better with the puppets than with other actors. The scenes with he and Douglas never quite connect. Douglas’s scenes aren’t well-directed. DeCoteau does much better away from Douglas. Even though the opening sweet scene between Rolfe and Douglas is a strong scene and an early sign Toulon’s Revenge mightn’t be predictable.

But Lynch and Ambercrombie are great together. They’ve got the same boss–general Walter Gotell–and they try to get one another in trouble. It’s juvenile; Lynch is this humorless Gestapo bastard, Ambercrombie is a kindly looking scientist. But they’re still Nazi bastards. The film never forgets no matter how likable any of the characters might get in a scene, they’re Nazis.

And the puppets are going to kill them.

DeCoteau has some excellent puppet set pieces. There’s this Old West shootist puppet with six arms (called Six-Shooter, I believe) and those sequences are particularly fun. The puppet does a dance with the arms (in stop motion) and it’s awesome. Sure, the Leech Woman puppet is gross, but… again, they’re killing Nazis. Like they don’t deserve to have a puppet spit leeches all over them. It’s a rather effective way to do a horror movie where you cheer the killers.

Technically, Toulon’s is fine. Adolfo Bartoli’s photography is fine. Editor Carol Oblath has some really well-cut scenes, but also not. Billy Jett’s production design is excellent.

Ambercrombie’s good, Lynch’s good. Rolfe’s great with the puppets. Logan’s not good–Joyner writes all the Nazis real thin and Logan’s the annoying, sweaty, snitch one. Gotell’s good. Douglas’s likable. Her scenes seem like they hadn’t been rehearsed or maybe even written before shooting. But she’s effective nonetheless.

The stop motion is often excellent. The composites are never good, but it’s excusable. Toulon’s Revenge gets away with a lot–like a rocky first act–thanks to Joyner’s plotting, Lynch, Ambercrombie, and the puppets. Rolfe’s usually fine too. At least after the first act.

It’s incredibly entertaining and shockingly effective.

1.5/4★½

CREDITS

Directed by David DeCoteau; screenplay by C. Courtney Joyner, based on an idea by Charles Band and characters created by David Schmoeller; director of photography, Adolfo Bartoli; edited by Carol Oblath; music by Richard Band; production designer, Billy Jett; produced by DeCoteau and John Schouweiler; released by Paramount Home Video.

Starring Guy Rolfe (Andre Toulon), Sarah Douglas (Elsa Toulon), Richard Lynch (Major Kraus), Ian Abercrombie (Dr. Hess), Kristopher Logan (Lt. Eric Stein), Aron Eisenberg (Peter), Matthew Faison (Hertz), and Walter Gotell (General Mueller).


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Trancers II (1991, Charles Band)

Without its cast, Trancers II couldn’t possibly succeed. It’s an unfortunately limited success as is, but without everyone’s enthusiasm–regardless whether they have a good role or not–the film just couldn’t work. There’s a whole bunch of charm to Trancers II, but only the cast is actually able to deliver on any of its potential.

Jackson Barr’s screenplay, for example, is pretty solid. It’s not great, but it gives all the characters something to do–well, most of them. It’s director Band who screws up the execution of it; all of the film, he goes between this boring close-up one shots on each actor. It’s not editors Andy Horvitch and Ted Nicolaou’s faults, it’s pretty obvious there’s just not the coverage. And it sucks because there’s a lot of good work and even more potential to Trancers II.

I mean, for a very cheap, awkwardly (in terms of acknowledging it) campy, sci-fi thriller, it’s got a lot of potential. Certainly for better parts for its cast, who do a lot with often very little. Tim Thomerson, Helen Hunt and Biff Manard are all good. Manard’s performance suffers because of Band’s direction. Thomerson and Hunt run into the limits of Barr’s screenplay–and how Band directs those scenes–but they’re good. Richard Lynch is good as the bad guy. Alyson Croft is good as future cop Thomerson’s partner’s teenage ancestor. Megan Ward is all right as Thomerson’s future wife (Hunt being his modern day wife). She tries. She doesn’t get the support she needs from Band, but Ward does try.

Phil Davies and Mark Ryder’s music is occasionally good, occasionally bad, often mediocre. But there are some definitely high points. Bland photography from Adolfo Bartoli doesn’t help matters. Not to mention Band wasting Jeffrey Combs.

Trancers II is this odd but great concept poorly executed.

1/4

CREDITS

Produced and directed by Charles Band; screenplay by Jackson Barr, based on a story by Barr and Band and characters created by Danny Bilson and Paul De Meo; director of photography, Adolfo Bartoli; edited by Andy Horvitch and Ted Nicolaou; music by Phil Davies and Mark Ryder; production designer, Kathleen Coates; released by Paramount Home Video.

Starring Tim Thomerson (Jack Deth), Helen Hunt (Lena Deth), Megan Ward (Alice Stillwell), Biff Manard (Hap Ashby), Art LaFleur (Old McNulty), Alyson Croft (McNulty), Telma Hopkins (Cmdr. Raines), Martine Beswick (Nurse Trotter), Jeffrey Combs (Dr. Pyle), Sonny Carl Davis (Rabbit) and Richard Lynch (Dr. Wardo).


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The Seven-Ups (1973, Philip D’Antoni)

The Seven-Ups is a fascist daydream beyond almost any cinematic compare, certainly American cinema (except maybe a Charles Bronson movie from the 1980s or something). And it’s not a cheap, 1970s exploitation picture either. Yes, to some degree it’s cheap (Roy Scheider and Tony Lo Bianco are the only two recognizable principals), but producer and director Philip D’Antoni also produced Bullitt and The French Connection, and The Seven-Ups is something like a cheap version of French Connection. Scheider’s okay, but he doesn’t real create a character in Seven-Ups because there’s nothing in the script. I kept waiting for something interesting to happen, but the film’s absent of any subtext.

Oh, before I forget–this film is so fascist, when I was looking up director D’Antoni, I really expected his biography to mention he went into exile after Mussolini went out of power. The film’s incredible–I imagine it’s a neo-con’s wet dream.

Actually, D’Antoni’s a really good director, so good it’s unfortunate Seven-Ups is his only directorial effort. He’s not particularly good with actors, but his composition and his sense of timing are fantastic. Seven-Ups has a great ten minute car chase in it, notable mostly because it gives a lovely tour of early 1970s New York, but it’s still good stuff. I kept finding really good shots throughout the film, which made its failures more and more glaring.

The Seven-Ups is a good looking film, but it’s incredibly dumb. Watching it, I kept having remind myself films can be dumb no matter when they’re from–you don’t need CG to be dumb, all it takes is bad writing, which has been around since people started doing it. In many ways, it’s like a TV show–a really well produced one–but the set pieces in the film really reminded me of things I’ve seen on TV. Not the car chase, fine, but there are these sequences (with scary music) of being in a car wash… and scary car washes really scream TV show for some reason.

As an easily accessible filmic travelogue of 1970s New York, if one cares about that sort of thing, it’s essential. As a film… eh. There are these great villains and the film doesn’t even get the pay-off right, which makes the whole thing sort of… eh.

1/4

CREDITS

Produced and directed by Philip D’Antoni; screenplay by Albert Ruben and Alexander Jacobs, based on a story by Sonny Grosso; director of photography, Urs Furrer; edited by John C. Horger and Stephen A. Rotter; music by Don Ellis; released by 20th Century Fox.

Starring Roy Scheider (Buddy Manucci), Tony Lo Blanco (Vito), Larry Haines (Max Kalish), Victor Arnold (Barilli), Jerry Leon (Mingo), Ken Kercheval (Ansel), Richard Lynch (Moon) and Bill Hickman (Bo).


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