"Battle Royale" (2000)

(Originally released as Batoru Rowairu)

Starring: Tatsuya Fujiwara, Aki Maeda, Taro Yamamoto, Chiaki Kuriyama, Sousuke Takaoka

First, the lowdown: A classroom of Japanese students are sent to an island retreat, to kill each other.

This was one of a slew of movies that people kept telling me that I HAD to see (while waving their arms franticly). It was hard to look at this picture with an unbiased eye because I've had multiple people tell me about it AND I had already read a couple of reviews on it. So I'm kinda struggling hard to provide an objective POV here. I've also not read the book (or comic) that this was based off of, which I'm sure would provide with more insight here.

Here goes.

As the credits roll we're informed that in The Not-Too-Distant Future, the Japanese economy has tanked, giving them a rise of unemployment as well as juvenile delinquency. The movie opens with a swarm of news reporters converging on an area cordoned off by the military. The buzz is that the winner of the current Battle Royale competition has been found and is being brought out. A jeep pulls up from the distance and the media hounds swarm it, announcing that the winner is a girl this year. As the crowd is parted by the armed guards, we finally get a good look at our winner: a teenage girl with blood-matted hair and clothing; clutching an equally soiled stuffed rabbit, and smiling like a Japanese "oni" (demon) with braces on its teeth.

We then cut to the grouchy Sensei Kitano (played by Takeshi "Beat" Kitano with facial tick in full gear) exiting the classroom of the grade 7 school that he teaches at, only to have his leg slashed by one of the students. Soon after, we're told that he retires from teaching.

Fast-forward ahead two years. The students are now on a field trip, only to pass out on the way there. When the kids wake up, they find themselves in an abandoned classroom guarded by soldiers with machine guns as well as two new "students" of embittered mien. Shuya, one of our students, notices that they all have a silver band around their necks that they can't take off. Before having the opportunity to say "Whiskey Tango Foxtrot", Sensei Kitano comes into the room and tells them the score:

Because of the disturbing trend of teenage delinquency in Japan, the Battle Royale Act has been put through parliament. A 9th-grade class is chosen by impartial lottery and sequestered to a secret location. Once there, the students have three days to fight each other to the death until there is one student left. Otherwise the EXPLOSIVE COLLARS they wear around their necks will detonate. Kitano tells them that their teacher had protested the class' selection for competition, but to no avail. To hammer that point home the students are shown the dead corpse of their instructor.

Kitano then has them watch a straightforward, but demented, orientation video (hosted by a perky spokesmodel), telling them to pay attention. One girl decides to ignore Kitano's stern admonition and whispers to her classmate, only to get a knife in her skull for her defiance. At this point the class finally comes to the mutual conclusion of "Holy shit! They're serious!" Prompting one classmate to try attacking Kitano. This gives Kitano the ability to happily demonstrate the explosive nature of the collars on Nobu, the student that had stabbed him years earlier. After Nobu's head asplodes, the class is informed that if there is more than one contestant alive after three days: EVERYONE DIES. Also, to make things interesting (and probably to keep the kids moving) "danger zones" will be chosen at random and announced at regular intervals. If a contestant is caught in a danger zone when it activates, their collar will go off. Kitano then points out that there are two new "transfer" students who will be competing with them.

The students are then given a pack containing three days worth of food and water; a map, compass, and a randomly selected weapon. Immediately after being given his pack, one of the "transfers" complains about getting the wrong one and is given a replacement one. The kids are then sent out into the night and play.

It's an incredible setup that's made all the more real by having Gen-U-Wine teens play students (as opposed to the American movie habit of having actors in their late 20s pretending that they're a Junior Varsity footballer). The scenario only ends up escalating as some students refrain from killing (either out of fear or denial) whilst others take up predatory roles all TOO readily. Cliques end up crumbling under fears of betrayal, friendships end in sweet suicide, and rivalries are taken to a monstrous extreme.

That being said, there are a few problems I had with the movie. None of the students has heard of the Battle Royale Act, which I guess is supposed to be indicative of how selfishly clueless these damn kids are these days, especially about politics that affect them. That being said, aside from a vague "separating the wheat from the chaff"-type philosophy, there isn't any OTHER explanation for WHY this act was put into place. True, Nobu's random act of violence against a teacher would be considered heinous when put into context of Japanese behavior. But it's an isolated act. One bad apple is not really indicative of the entire bunch and most of the other kids seem pretty level-headed (at least at FIRST.)

Also, no reward or goal is mentioned for the contest. There are some rumors (a kid starts blasting his schoolmates while raving about getting into a good school if he wins), but ultimately we're not told what happens to the winner. And what of the adult involvement? For an event that provoked a media frenzy over a previous winner, apparently this year's event is given sparse coverage. Personally, I thought it would've been neat if there was a betting pool or ESPN-like game reporting, etc. Sensei Kitano's involvement is also never explained at all, though you start feeling kinda sad for him toward the movie. Another interesting point that is mentioned (which supports the betting pool idea) is that of the "transfers", one is there to fix the outcome, the other is there FOR FUN. Both of which support the idea that SOMETHING COOL must happen to the winner, but we're never told WHAT if anything.

All in all, it's a great movie that doesn't pull very many punches when it comes to kids and violence. Which is something I've always wondered why American filmmakers are so squeamish about. Minors are rarely victims of violence (or perpetrators for that matter) in American cinema, yet in the "real world" the exact opposite is true. I keep hearing whatever cinema auteur blithely saying that they strive for realism in their movies, but for some reason kids have an Underage Death Exemption Card in the screen. (This is not saying that I LIKE watching kids get mutilated, butchered, etc. But there are moments in several films where American nervously shy away from a point that foreign filmmakers aren't afraid to make.)

Line of the movie: "I just didn't want to be a loser anymore" And you thought YOU were socially awkward.

Four and a half stars. For external use only.

"Fritz The Cat" (1972)

Starring the voices of: Skip Hinnant, Rosetta LeNoire, John McCurry, Phil Seuling.

First, the lowdown: An animated feature of an underground comic that should’ve stayed underground.

I have to shamefacedly admit that I’m not terribly read up on Robert Crumb. To further expose my lack of knowledge, I’ve only read excerpts of the Fritz The Cat comic. Most of my knowledge about Crumb actually comes from “Crumb” the documentary about him. From what I’ve read, Crumb hates this movie and isn’t terribly crazy about the notoriety that he’s gained from it. People who wouldn’t have bothered reading independent comics are now acting as instant “biggest fans” all because some enterprising lad decided to make an animation adaptation of one of Crumb’s works. So really, I can’t blame him. The comic was intended to be a poke in the eye to all of the wannabe’s in the sixties counter culture movement. Bakshi approached it with the best of intentions, (and actually it’s somewhat faithful to it), but people were more interested in watching a cartoon that had fucking and drug use in it. So the message (if there was any to be had) kinda got lost. Instead of people seeing it as a scathing satire of college life in the 1960’s, the emphasis seemed to be more on the drug use and anthropomorphic animals copulating everywhere. (In this aspect it’s kinda like Hunter S Thompson writing about a furry convention.) In a nutshell, the movie follows the misadventures of Fritz, a college dropout who is sick of the “scene” and the hypocrisy in the world around him. When an orgy turns into a failed drug bust, Fritz flees and “goes underground” (even though during the sixties you could get hassled by the police just by telling them you’re a college student.) Along the way he does a LOT of weed, hangs around with black people just to prove that he’s cool, and generally makes an ass of himself. In a way this character reminds me of a lot of people I’ve encountered who think that just by acting weird and using a contraband substance, it makes them an artist. If that were true, I would be listing this website and my NyQuil addiction on my resume. There are quite a few jabs made at the expense of hipsters, but they seem to pull a few punches that the comic was not afraid to throw and overall the tone of the movie seems exploitive than satiric. Jesus, I’m sounding like a genuine film critic. Somebody shoot me. One thing I will give Mr. Bakshi: at least this one doesn’t rely on as much “found footage” for animation stock as Wizards or American Pop did. If anything, I recommend this flick for teenagers who want to shock their parents and sorta (I guess) learn about that volume of American Mythology that is The Sixties.

Line of the move: “I’m a failure as a pot smoker.” Yeah, pretty much sums it up.

Three and a half stars. Lather, rinse, repeat.

"Mudhoney" (1965)

(Get ready for a two-fer today)

Starring: Hal Hopper, Antoinette Christiani, John Furlong, Rena Horton, Princess Livingston, Lorna Maitland.

First, the lowdown: It’s Russ Meyer in all his hellfire and brimstone.

One of the things I always like about Russ Meyer is how he frames his shots. There are quite a few arty scenes in this flick, which is about standard fare for Mr. Meyer. We open with a demented cross between Jim Bakkus and Orville Reddenbacker, who drives a beat up truck and takes meticulous care of his Tony Lamas. He proceeds to kick down the door to the run-down abode of his wife, Hannah; and, without plying her with flowers or booze, rapes her. We cut to Calif McKinney, a drifting ex-con who has the hygiene of a Mormon missionary. He wanders into a suspiciously Californian-looking stretch of Missouri looking for work, and the first thing he runs into is the silent Rena Horten, in trademark open blouse. Rena immediately takes a likin’ to Calif and it looks like naked sweaty things might ensue when we’re jolted back to sobered reality by her bug-eyed, gape-mouthed mother Maggie (as portrayed by infamous Princess Livingston, and if you have difficulty staying awake during the day, just think about her horrid countenance: your sleep will retard for weeks.) Maggie runs one of those houses of ill repute, as they say, with daughter Rena, other daughter Clara Belle, and some guy who looks like Fidel Castro cast as an extra in Green Acres. Because Calif is looking for “work,” he presses on to the Brenshaw farm: owned by, you guessed it, Mr. Tony Lamas and his wife Hannah. Because Tony Lamas is too busy boozing and whoring (which appear to be about the only two things you can actually do in this town), Hannah is left to run the farm with her sickly Uncle. Calif applies for help and is welcomed in, albeit reluctantly: apparently Tony Lamas has an aversion to agricultural efficiency and has bullied or intimidated every hired hand they’ve had. True to his word, Tony Lamas begins needling at Calif while he’s working, even though Calif has easy access to a weapon. (One particularly annoying scene involves Calif digging a hole with a pickax. I don’t know about you, but if I were there, Tony Lamas would’ve been walking away with a sucking chest wound.) Try as the audience might to sympathize with the situation, we see what a wuss Calif is, as Tony Lamas wails on him like a Shriner after a case of Thunderbird. It’s kinda hard to get behind a protagonist who can’t take a punch from a septuagenarian, especially one as whiny and emaciated as Tony Lamas. The sickly Uncle finally ends up dying and leaving the farm to Calif, severely cheesing off Tony Lamas. Tony Lamas enlists in the help of the local Fire ‘N Brimstone preacher, Brother Hanson, to stir trouble among the folk in town to turn ‘em agin’ Calif. Having been exposed to small town culture in my life, small town folks really don’t have much better to do than rumor and brood about something. Things eventually end up with a fiery lynching in the end, but the image I will keep with me forever from this movie is Rena Horton lying in the shade and playing with a black kitten.

Line of the movie: “This town’s always gotta have something to hate.” Sickly Uncle giving some sage advice.

Three stars. Not responsible for theft.

"The Story of Qiu Jiu" (1992)

(Originally released as Qiu Ju da guan si)

Starring: Gong Li, Liu Peiqi, Yang Liuchun, Lei Queshen, Ge Zhijun

First, the lowdown: A pregnant peasant registers a complaint against a village chief and bureaucralarity ensues.

There two things I was thinking of as I was watching this film. The first was: there are incredible lengths people will go to in order to prove themselves "right" about something. Some are ridiculous, others are desperate. If enough people were willing to concede a point and just let it go, things would be a lot easier in the world.

The second was: Never get into an argument with a pregnant woman. I learned that one the hard way during my ex-wife's first trimester.

The movie opens up with Qiu Ju, the wife of a chili farmer in rural China, going to a village doctor with her sister-in-law towing her husband Qinglai in a cart. The day before, Qinglai let his mouth get the better of him during an altercation with Wang, the village chief, resulting in a severe kick to Qinglai's groin. Both worried and embarrassed for her husband, Qiu Ju demands an apology from the chief, but is refused. So instead she files a complaint with the local government office. The complaint is quickly handled, with the chief being responsible for 200 yuan in lost wages and expenses. Qiu Ju tells the chief that she isn't concerned so much about the money but still demands an apology from him. The chief scoffs is more than willing to pay any fines, but scoffs at the idea of apologizing for his actions, no matter how out of place they might be. Feeling that her case was handled inadequately, Qiu Ju appeals her case to a higher office and ends up being exposed to the progressively larger cogs of government bureaucracy.

This is a very ironic comedy that is completely gag-free. There are no pratfalls, one-liners, catch-phrases, or visual gags to be seen. (Qinglai's "sacktap" happens immediately before the movie begins and is only described, never re-enacted.) If anything, what makes the movie funny is the determination of the central character Qiu Ju and the dawning realization that bureaucracy is a universal concept. With Qiu Ju being increasingly dissatisfied with how her complaint is handled, she appeals to a higher and higher court, eventually landing her in "The City", where she is completely out of her depth.

The scenes in "The City" are pretty hilarious Chinese spin on the "country bumpkin in the big city" shtick that is a staple of Western cinema. Qiu Ju and her sister-in-law, Meizi, wander the streets, trying to not look completely lost and maintain their focus toward complaining with the Public Service Board, yet finding their gaze wandering to the marvels of the urban landscape. At one point a friendly passerby recommends they change their clothes to blend in, so we cut to Qiu Ju and Meizi donning freshly-purchased "urban-looking" overcoats, and still looking completely out of place in them.

Overall, one realizes that while some of the customs, laws, and procedures may be different, government services in China seem to have the same work-avoidance philosophy that Western bureaucracies have. Watching Qiu Ju fill out paperwork yet again reminds me of being at the DMV. At one point she asks a local schoolteacher to read a court notice because she can't understand the "legalese" in it.

Bureaucracies are all the same for both the East and West.

Line of the movie: "All I wanted was an apology," Qiu Ju's request seems simple at first.

Four stars. Filled with wholesome goodness.

"Scanners" (1981)

Starring: Stephen Lack, Patrick McGoohan, Michael Ironside, Jennifer O’Neill, Robert Silverman.

First, the Lowdown: Psychics run amok and Smucker’s-filled action ensues.

In theme with the movie, I know what you’re thinking. Either it’s A: “It’s about time he got to this flick.” Or B: “I ordered a cheeseburger.” Our story begins with lonely hobo, Cameron, who has been burdened with the ability to hear peoples’ thoughts and see into their minds. Now while mind-reading does indeed sound like a cool ability to possess, think about it this way: Analyze what you think about as you walk, as you work, as you sit on your ass and channel surf. Unless you’re God, your thoughts are bound to be pretty fucking boring. Now imagine what it would be like to listen to that EVERY DAY OF YOUR LIFE FROM EVERYONE AROUND YOU. It would be like being stuck in a room with a thousand TV sets, and they are all blaring infomercials, Jerry Springer, and Univision. Pretty soon you’d be shoving pens into your eyes and slamming your head into a wall just to take the edge off. I’m not going to go into how much this movie is a “classic” or even a “must-see.” Knowing the homeroom class of junior high school kids that is my reading audience; you’re more interested in the famous “head exploding” scene. Well, it’s nothing compared to today’s standards, but the man’s noggin pops like a watermelon in a Gallagher show. Where was I? Oh yeah, the actual synopsis of the movie. Anyway, Cameron is caught sending an uppity housewife into grand mal seizures and drug off to an abandoned warehouse run by No. 6 from the Prisoner. No. 6 is desperately trying to save his project (and more likely, his funding), which deals with people in Cameron’s unique position: Scanners. Apparently a rogue scanner, Darryl Revok (which is such a cool name), has been going ‘round bursting other scanners left and right like pustules on a 14-year old, including the aforementioned Mr. Head Explosion who was in No. 6’s employ. Cameron then goes undercover to find Revok and stop, hinder, or at least do something to him. The movie is pretty vague on this point, we know he’s supposed to at least FIND Revok, but beyond that it’s pretty nebulous. However, Revok is already in control of a high-ranking officer in Cameron’s company with designs to undermine it from the inside. And at this point is where the movie is more suspenseful than gory until the last 5 or so minutes. It’s a pretty interesting concept (which was inspired by William S. Burroughs’ writing) and for a movie that’s been made infamous for having a cranial explosion, there’s quite a bit of social commentary in it (particularly about the Cold War, the science’s co-opting by the military, and “Thalidomide children.”) Of personal note, this is one of a couple movies that I keep having reoccurring dreams about (another one is The Omega Man, in case you’re curious), and while one would think being a scanner would be cool, the dreams never end pretty. And out of curiosity, could someone explain to me what it is with Michael Ironside and being put through the physical ringer in every movie? It seems like every single movie I’ve seen him in his character ends up getting mutilated or otherwise caught in the gears of a Ferris wheel. Masochism fetish much, you splotchy fellow?

Line of the movie: “I’m gonna suck your brain dry!” Darryl Revok and boy is he cheesed.

Four stars. How you like me now?

"Tenebre" (1982)

Starring: Anthony Fransciosa, John Steiner, JOHN SAXON!, and a host of those wacky Italians.

First, the lowdown: It’s Seven, Italian Style.

Yet another fine entry from the Dario Argento line of cinema. Tony Fransciosa plays Peter Neal: a prolific horror writer of Stephen King-like proportions, who is touring Rome to promote his new book: Tenebrae (gasp!). On the plane over, we see him receive a mysterious phone call from a stalker ex-wife/girlfriend/something, who ends up stealing his gym bag when he’s not looking and goes Glen Close on the contents. (In one of many red herrings in the movie, we are treated to several suspicious close-ups of the gym bag, which makes you think the ex-whatever put a bomb in it) In Rome, a be-trenchcoated psycho with O.J. Simpson gloves has been slicing through the pink underbelly that is home to Italy’s prostitutes and deadbeat women. Our opening victim is a girl caught shoplifting the paperback edition of Mr. Neal’s book, but ends up getting away with it because she propositions the store detective (lord only knows what this poor creature would’ve done for a good piece of Faulkner.) While on her way home, she’s accosted by a drunken beggar, who chases her. However, Trenchcoat Psycho is waiting at her flat, and ends up staining her shag carpet apartment with her own blood. Meanwhile Peter Neal arrives amid fanfare and meets up with his incredibly annoying agent: John Saxon (sporting a poorly chosen fedora). Things must’ve been pretty bad for Mr. Saxon, because he’s demoted to the role of the movie’s Comic Relief, and he’s not even that present in the movie. He only seems to appear to remind people that he’s there. While settling in his hotel room, Peter is interrogated by two Italian detectives (who speak in dubbed broken English) about the series of murders committed by Trenchcoat Psycho. Mr. Psycho has been leaving witty passages from Peter’s book at the scene of each crime, giving the police a sneaking feeling that their client may have been inspired by it. Forsaking all conventional police procedure, our wayward detectives enlist in Peter’s help to track down the killer. Peter doesn’t appear to take the plea for help too seriously, or anything else on his book tour for that matter (with the exception of two interviews the man makes as many PR appearances in this movie as Salman Rushdie would in Tehran.) Our killer still goes about his merry way, picking away at quite a few Italian lovelies in the name of literature and then leaving taunting letters at Peter’s hotel room. One victim in particular is the daughter of Peter’s ex-wife/girlfriend/whatever; not that it’s an important plot point, but they feel it’s worth mentioning. Later on, both Peter and his assistant are haunted by visions of his ex-whatever in rental cars, as well as John Saxon’s ridiculous fedora (which he refuses to remove even while indoors.) Halfway through the movie, Peter gets an epiphany and takes his young Carey Elwes-esque gofer to lurk about the home of the Trenchcoat Psycho, resulting in traumatic memories for the barely pubescent gofer (who witnesses a Gen-U-Wine axe murder) and a dent in the head for Peter (which causes an embarrassing divot in the back of his coiffure for the rest of the movie). In essence, it’s another entry into the Italian giallo genre, which I’d enjoy more if it weren’t for the weird-as-shit pacing. That being said there are two scene where Argento shows technical ingenuity behind the camera. The first is an outside shot of our next victim framed through the window, it looks like a typical POV shot until you realize the camera is moving UPWARDS. The second has one of the police inspectors bending over to pick something up at a crime scene, only to reveal our killer standing directly behind him. At least this one didn’t break the wacky meter like Phenomena.

Line of the movie: “Where is that damn drunk?” John Saxon is feeling surly.

Three stars. Drink me.

"Vampire Seduction" (1998)

[Editor's note: I'm putting up three of these today, so brace yourselves.]

Starring: Tina Krause, Paige Turner, Kiki Michaels, Dawn Monaco, John Paul Freddie; and of course: Daisy, Janie, and Jenna.

First, the Lowdown: It’s a softcore that tries to borrow from an already tired lesbian vampire genre.

After the fall of Count Dracula some 100-odd years ago, his daughter (see the Brides Of Dracula for more information) has come to New Jersey seeking blood (what else is there to do in Jersey anyway?) Coincidentally, the descendant of Dr. Abraham Van Helsing (who apparently was a pretty hip cat for the turn of the century) is also in the Garden State. However, unlike with Dracula’s progeny (who is sporting pretty un-vampire-like tan lines), the passing century has not been kind to the Van Helsing line. Years of genetic dilution (or more likely, inbreeding) have reduced the once-mighty clan to an embarrassing Jerry Lewis-like consistency. The latest in the line, Wally (a name that is only funny when stoned), is a loser even by Dustin Hoffman standards. Lacking in physical, social, and hygienic skills, Wally is summoned by the aforementioned daughter of Dracula, “Dracoola.” She has a weird accent that implies a Slavic language, but in reality makes her sound like a frustrated Mexican whore. For some insane reason, she has implored Wallace to “bring me Lezbyones.” Obviously, he never heard of the personals, so Wally heads to the most unlikely location to fine same-sex activity: low-income housing. (And as anyone who has lived in section 8 housing can tell you, most low-income tenants are too busy trying to beat their kids and forge welfare checks to have sex of ANY kind.) From here on out it’s softcore business as usual: out of work strippers and/or friends of the filmmakers taking their clothes off under ridiculous pretenses (even by pornography standards.) (This includes a slumber party sequence which can only be described as “mostly legal.”) For all you filthy perverts out there who only watch esoteric cinema for the sex, there’s not much of it here. Plenty of nudity and fondling, but no more than could be found at a typical sorority party (or at your local strip club for that matter.) As someone who has had the privilege to watch two actual lesbians engage in sexual congress, it looks nothing like this. After the movie is a 45-minute “short” called Misty’s Secret; which manages to be both stupid and disturbing at the same time in some points. The first half of the movie is nothing more than a sequence where one woman compulsively washes herself in the tub whilst giving longing looks at her roommate. I don’t know about you, but the demented habits of the neurotic aren’t really that enticing to me. We flash to a sequence involving a redhead stripping and “masturbating” for her voyeur neighbor; even though we never see whether there is an actual building facing the window she is performing in front of. Next, we find out that our two roomies are really vacationing in Paris, even though they found the most squalid and unrecognizable parts of the town to film in (or maybe it’s really Montreal pretending it’s Paris?) Anyway apparently Misty’s secret involves some kinda stalker guy, but after watching someone wash herself for the ninth consecutive time, I decided the film was more fun in fast motion.

Line of the movie: “Put down that teddy bear and come here.” Quoth the lusty homemaker in the “mostly legal” scene.

Two stars. Thank you, drive thru.

"Naked Lunch" (1991)

Starring: Peter Weller, Judy Davis, Ian Holm, Julian Sands, Roy Scheider.

First, the Lowdown: Worlds collide when beatnik meets Scanners.

Americans always seem to be under the impression that if you are to produce something that is both creative and surreal, you have to be under the influence of some mind-altering substance. People have long assumed that if you express any form of eccentricity you were either old, insane, intoxicated, or a combination thereof. After all, nobody NORMAL would CHOOSE to be WEIRD, right? Having been someone who has frequently indulged in "chemical entertainment" I will say that I am far too distracted when I'm high to do ANYTHING creative aside from philosophize about minutia.

Unfortunately, people like Burroughs do nothing to dispel this myth at all. The dilemma is this: Naked Lunch is definitely a product of a twisted mind, but which mind is more to blame? First you have William S. Burroughs: a man whose poetical and prosaic style is like listening to an old record that's been warped by the sun, you understand the gist of it, but it still sounds weird. Then there's director David Cronenburg: Mr. Let's-Poke-It-With-A-Stick-And-See-If-It-Twitches. Both men have extensively produced works about hallucinations, homosexuality, and kinky sex. And both men's storytelling styles seem to draw in your attention, and then fuck with it when you're least expecting. It's a toss-up either way.

Naked Lunch can best be described as "Walter Mitty's Week-Long Bender". The movie is only KINDA based off of Burrough's book and only KINDA based off of Burrough's life. Not being an expert on either, I leave it up to you. Peter Weller plays William Lee, mild-mannered exterminator, whose power-can ends up running out while on a job. Worried about losing his job, Lee is only further frustrated when he finds out that his wife has been shooting up with it to produce a Kafka-esque high. (Like roaches' thoughts are really that damn interesting.) After trying a taste of the Flit in his canister Lee is picked up by the police for drug possession and interrogated by a giant cockroach with a TALKING ANUS.

After that, all hell breaks loose. The Roach Anus informs Lee that his wife is a deep cover agent of "the Opposition" and to kill her. So he does, and it's hard to say whether it was intentional or not. He flees to a place called Interzone (based off of the International Zone in Tangiers) and ends up getting hooked on something harder than bug powder: writing.

At this point in the movie, it's just one long semi-disjointed hallucination. In fact there are parts where people from the "Real World" show up and you wished they'd go away so Lee can continue with his trip. There's a lot in this movie that is hard to describe, but easy to watch for some reason. We got talking roaches, a Mugwump, roaches with keyboard interfaces, a lesbian housekeeper, Julian Sands, an RV with tank treads, and an Arabic typewriter with a hard-on.

With the visual metaphoric imagery that Cronenburg is famous for, it's hard to tell if you actually saw the movie or are still feeling the effects of that bad headcheese sandwich you just ate.

Line of the movie: "Exterminate all rational thought" Sound advice for this movie.

Five Stars. Not redeemable for cash.

"The Fearless Hyena" (1979)

One from my personal collection!

(Originally released as Hsiao Chuan Yi Chao)

Starring: Jackie Chan (credited as Jacky Chan), and a host of other people with unpronounceable names.

First, the Lowdown: It’s a wacky Chinese movie filled with jaw-dropping fight sequences.

When the movie opens, we see a trio of men running across a field Benny Hill-style. They get intercepted by a Big Heinous guy in a flowing red cape and snow white wig. Apparently Big Heinous is a master of the Indian Burn style of kung fu and proceeds to Rolf one of our hapless pursuants to death. Meanwhile, Jackie Chan plays yet another young student of the elegant art of kung fu who is trying to take care of his elderly grandfather. Grandfather may have consumption, but he can kick Chan’s ass across the four corners of the world. And does so in quite a few sequences (including one where Chan gets rapped so many times across the noggin with a stick, it gives the audience a headache.) Later Chan tries to earn money the easy way by gambling, and earns the ire of the Three Stooges of the local underground. After kicking the Stooges combined asses several times, Chan is then approached by them with an offer to teach at a failing academy. The academy is headed by a Chinese Buddy Hackett who offers Chan a stipend for roping in students with his trademarked Fists O’ Fury™. Grandfather has admonished Chan for teaching others the family style of kung fu by beating the crap out of them, but Chan’s desire to help out with the family finances takes over. Apparently, Chan’s method of advertising is to beat up whatever person comes along, and in their semi-conscious daze, Buddy Hackett signs them up for instruction. The fights are extremely amusing and include a sequence where Chan fights in drag. (Getting your ass kicked by a transvestite is real sad.) Eventually, Big Heinous comes to town, recognizes Grandfather’s clan from the sign for Buddy Hackett’s school, speeds off to Grandfather’s shack, and proceeds to beat the ever-lovin’ snot out of him. (One thing to point out is that whenever Big Heinous they often use the film queue from "Superman" where General Zod is sent to the Phantom Zone. You keep expecting him to tell Grandfather "You will bow before me. Both you, and then one day, YOUR HEIRS!") Chan witnesses Grandfather's demise, but is unable to do anything because he’s pinned down by a guy with a crutch. This is a good thing because Big Heinous probably would've torn into Chan and shown him his still throbbing duodenum. The cripple turns out to be “The Unicorn,” a former student of Grandfather’s, who is a Kung-Fu version of Dickens’ Tiny Tim. The Unicorn proceeds to teach Chan on how to focus his energy to savagely pummel his opponents while not tiring himself out. There’s more wacky sparring sequences; and lots of cringe-inducing training sequences, (including one for the ladies: a sweaty, shirtless Jackie Chan flexing every muscle in chest). Will Chan learn to tame his restless heart? Will the Unicorn ever walk again? Will Big Heinous learn to kill with kindness? STAY TUNED.

Line of the movie: “You’d better start digging, or you’ll never be BURIED!” Big Heinous’ last witticism to Grandfather before he kicks his elderly ass.

Four stars. Collect them all!