National VCR DAY – June 7:

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Poltergeist (1982) vs. (2015) - no contest!

Review by Jack Kost

My wife and I are both “arty” souls.
We love to watch movies, and when they’re over we discuss them in depth, probably more in depth than most people.
We also enjoy discussing books, music, art, et al … also in depth.
My wife loves to paint, I love to write and sketch.
Our recent viewings of the 1982 and 2015 versions of Poltergeist turned from a fond, nostalgic chat about the former, to a “why did they bother” rant about the latter.

I’ll start with the original 1982 version, released in the United States on June 4, 1982:

It was produced by Steven Spielberg, based on his own story, and directed by Tobe Hooper.
For us, the 1982 original is a cinematic treat.
Hooper may have helmed the direction, but this has all the heart, feeling, emotion, humor, and suspense of a Spielberg movie.
We – the audience – see the family dynamics, their neighbors, and the history of the ever-expanding housing development.
The movie may be thirty-four-years-old, as of this writing, but it’s still the thrill-ride Spielberg has entertained fans with for decades.
The original is one of the best of the haunted house genre; an eerie and memorable light-show with a perfect end scene.

The high entertainment value reminds us of why we watch movies in the first place.
Spielberg knows how to engage and hold his audience.

Then we experienced the miserable let-down of the 2015 remake:

This was our post-Thanksgiving movie.
As usual, we discussed it after the end credits rolled, our discussion fueled by disdain!
We compared both versions, and shook our heads at how dreary and painful the remake is.
It felt like a by-the-numbers run-through for the actors in it, who seemed content to show up, recite the dismal script, and pick up their pay checks.
Not many movies have actually pissed me off, but this one made the list.
Absent is the charm and quality scripting of the original.
It simply goes through the motions without any of the character development, tension, or suspense of the original.
I watched it feeling bored after the first fifteen minutes, hoping it would pick up, get better, curious as to how it would unfold in a new retelling, being more disappointed as each scene unfolded.
I’m a fan of Sam Rockwell, but this was another example of how even a fine actor can’t save a lousy script.
We see some flashy effects, as we expect to see in this modern CGI-heavy age, but there’s nothing behind it, no depth or reason to care about what we’re being presented with.
The scene with Sam Rockwell regurgitating black goo into the sink, then seeing his reflection in the faucet, sores opening on his face, is a reworking of the scene in the original: Marty (Martin Casella) seeing maggots swarming on a chicken drumstick he’s just taken a bite out of, then his own face coming apart in the mirror.
It’s a great scene, even with the dated animatronics, with far more impact than the insipid 2015 version:

Zelda Rubinstein’s portrayal of Tangina, the psychic brought in to rescue their daughter and “clean” the house, is one of the high points of the story.

Her monologue to the family and investigators about what is really going on is chilling.
The character is also reworked for the 2015 version, changed for the contemporary audience, but giving nothing new or remarkable.
Running at roughly thirty minutes shorter, the remake has omitted the best elements of the original – to its own detriment.
Gone is the steady build-up of the original, as the 2015 version cuts directly to the shock-free plot markers.
Gone also are the comedic elements with the death of the pet canary, and the neighbor’s battle with the TV remote controls, parts of the story that developed the set-up and made us care more about the family and their predicament.

The key scene of the malevolent force entering the home, via the static of the TV set, is also changed, but as animated as the original was - it still had significant shock value to a first-time viewer:

It felt like the 2015 version had been made quickly and rushed out the studio door, nothing more than another vacuous money-making product.

The 1982 original has rightfully earned its place in cinema history – a classic of its genre; the 2015 rehash deserves nothing more than to be ignored and forgotten.

Thanksgiving: a time to give thanks.
Along with everything else we have been blessed with, we gave thanks for the fact that we hadn’t wasted money at the cinema box office for yet-another pointless, lazy, half-assed, cash-grab.

The Stunt Man (1980) – through the looking glass …

Review by Jack Kost.

Sam! Rewrite the opening reel! Crush the little bastard in the first act!

– Peter O'Toole, as Eli Cross.

I love movies, so a movie that also involves the movie-making process in the plot, is a definite draw.

The Stunt Man (1980) was directed by Richard Rush, released in the United States on June 27, 1980, and adapted from the novel of the same title, by Paul Brodeur, published in 1970.

The story is a combination of genres: action, drama, crime, and offbeat comedy.

Cameron (Steve Railsback), is a wanted man, a fugitive on the run from the police and FBI, for a crime that remains unspecified until later in the story.

Narrowly evading capture at a roadside diner, he stumbles onto a movie set, where a World War I battle scene is being filmed on the beach.

He merges with the crowd, as we hear an excerpt from Dusty Springfield’s song Bits and Pieces, tipping us off that the fugitive and viewer are now “in a world where nothing is what it seems”.

Cameron’s next attempt to put distance between himself and the pursuing law results in the death of the movie stuntman, Burt (Michael Railsback).

As Cameron runs again, he’s seen by the movie director, Eli Cross (Peter O’Toole), hovering next to the bridge in his chopper.

Burt’s death puts them both in a dangerous situation: if the police discover Burt’s death, they will close down the movie set and Eli will be arrested.

Cameron will also be caught.

They strike up an uneasy pact: Eli will provide Cameron refuge and sanctuary within the movie set, so long as Cameron takes Burt’s place as the stunt man.

Cameron accepts because he has no other choice.

Local police chief, Jake (Alex Rocco), is hanging around constantly looking for Eli to make a slip.

Cameron has an intimate relationship with Nina Franklin (Barbara Hershey), the lead actress on the movie.

There is a revealing moment to the almost surreal atmosphere and collective make-believe mindset of the world Cameron finds himself embroiled in.

As he carries Nina out of the water, and she makes believe that she is being rescued, Cameron remarks that it’s just like in the movies.

Nina replies: “I am the movies.”

The romance between Cameron and Nina sparks jealousy in Eli; he was once in a brief relationship with Nina, adding more tension to the suspicion he and Cameron have for each other.

There are several impressive set pieces to this movie.

In particular Cameron’s first stunt involving a jump between two high buildings.

Not a job for anyone suffering from vertigo.

The stunt includes a rooftop chase and a fall into an enemy occupied brothel.

Stunt men run, tumble over each other, and fall from the roof, in a long and skillfully filmed scene achieved in a pre-CGI age.

Cameron got more than he bargained for.

Already feeling trapped and afraid that his cover will be blown, Cameron’s paranoia is compounded with fear that the director may be psychotic, unconcerned about safety, and will stop at nothing to get his movie completed – even if it means Cameron will also die during a perilous stunt.

Or maybe it’s Eli’s way of getting rid of Cameron, so he could have a second chance of being with Nina.

Cameron refuses to divulge what his crime is, and Eli uses this during an argument with Nina, when he expresses remorse about losing her:

“Jesus Christ, woman! Can’t you see the man is reeking with blood?!”

Steve Railsback is effectively nervous and twitchy as Cameron, a fish out of water, feeling cornered and paranoid.

It’s easy to empathize and share his bewilderment, as the stunts he performs become increasingly dangerous.

There are moments that surprise the viewer as much as they do Cameron, as stunts are replayed from a different angle, revealing the cameras and crew, and the movie-effects tricks.

But this is easily Peter O’Toole’s movie.

In a role that seems written specifically for him, he commands every scene, just as his character, Eli Cross, commands the movie set.

The best lines are reserved for Eli, as he uses his fast-talking skills of persuasion on Cameron:

“Did you not know that King Kong the first was just three-foot-six-inches tall?

He only came up to Fay Wray’s belly button.

If God could do the tricks that we can do, He’d be a happy man!”

Eli is tyrannical, grandiose, and hilarious.

He can be comical and cruel, particularly in his manipulation of Nina, using an embarrassing incident during the showing of dailies to evoke a genuine reaction of shame he can capture in a scene.

Dominic Carmen Frontiere’s music score is both majestic and light-hearted, adding a fun and at times epic feel to the events.

The scene with Eli Cross arriving on set, stepping off the chopper, makes him seem like a giant walking the earth.

In Eli’s mind, as the director, he is a giant among men, and the movie set is his world, a realm he rules, with everyone there to follow and serve as he commands.

When not hovering over them in his chopper, he’s above them on his camera crane, or standing on bridges, a king overseeing his kingdom.

The director as dictator, or maybe even a demon – as the poster art suggests:

The stunts and action scenes are impressive.

The script, by Lawrence B. Marcus, is intelligent and humorous.

The uneasy partnership between Cameron and Cross is well developed, with smart and funny interchanges between Eli and his crew, particularly his lead actor, Raymond Bailey (Adam Roarke), assistant, Ace (Philip Bruns), hair stylist, Denise (Sharon Farrell) and long-suffering writer, Sam (Allen Garfield).

On a trivia note: the clip of the final stunt, when the Duesenberg car hits the water, was included in the opening credit montage of the TV show, The Fall Guy (1981-86), starring Lee Majors.

Keep watching after the end credits roll, to hear Eli Cross’ final hilarious declaration.

Among my other “movies about making movies” favorites are:

Hooper (1978), Blow Out (1981), The Hard Way (1991), Ed Wood (1994), Adaptation (2002), and The Disaster Artist (2017).

I also recommend director Richard Rush’s earlier hilariously off-beat action comedy: Freebie and the Bean (1974), starring James Caan, Alan Arkin, Loretta Swit, Valerie Harper, Alex Rocco, Mike Kellin, and Paul Koslo.

One of the best in the cop buddy movie genre.

Similarly, Freebie and the Bean didn’t do well on its release, but has since gained much-deserved admiration.

The Stunt Man is a movie within a movie, a story within a story, fiction within fiction.

Superbly shot, entertaining and unforgettable.

A multi-layered story that improves with repeat viewings, and a must-see for any movie-buff who, like me, loves movies.

Eli Cross perfectly sums up the movie world to Cameron and the viewer, as if Eli is both director and usher, standing outside the cinema auditorium, beckoning us all into his world:

“That door is the looking glass … and inside it is Wonderland.”