Joachim Keller’s blog
Joachim Keller’s blog
February 28th, 2010 at 9:43 pm
Posted By: joachimkellersblog
Posted in: Uncategorized


“RoboCop” was a great idea whose estimation came and went. The first flicks was resourceful, humorous, insightful, and satiric, apart from being plenty exciting. From then on, however, it was all downhill, as the two sequels took the series to bring and bring depths. MGM’s changed, three-DVD combination becomingly bundles the original “RoboCop” with a troop of extras, leaving movies two and three to suffer a deserved fate on discs that offer virtually nothing.

“RoboCop”:
“This is Media Frustrate. You give us three minutes, and we’ll give you the world.” It’s that kind of hyperbole sets the sardonic tone on this on occasion funny, at times cheeky, on occasion touching, many times telling, and unendingly poetical 1987 sci-fi/fantasy thriller. The movie not merely gives us a healthy administer of “Terminator” type special-effects heroics, it pokes gibe at corporate America, the media, inner-city violence, consumerism, and the government’s attempts to jurisdiction people’s lives and maintain discipline at any cost.

Director Paul Verhoeven (”Total Recall,” “Basic Instinct,” “Starship Troopers,” “Showgirls”) situates the story in a near-future Detroit (but filmed in Dallas) that has been overrun by criminals and in the process turned once again to a special company, the OCP (Omni Consumer Products), suited for policing. The company figures if it can sell products, it can direct a city, too. Besides, it sees profit in the bargain. The company is spin by two figures, the Old Man (Dan O’Herlihy) and his second-in-command, Senior President Dick Jones (Ronny Cox). Both guys are sneaky fellows who are simply out for themselves.

Meantime, a coldhearted flunky of the company, Morton (Miguel Ferrer), is nearly as bad as the criminals the company is upsetting to contain. Morton is in supervision of the RoboCop program, which is competing with Jones’s Enforcement Droid exchange for top billing in the city patrolling branch, and when Jones’s ED-209 goes haywire, Morton steps in with his star.

What’s RoboCop, repayment for the half dozen readers worldwide who have never seen the movie before? He’s instances partly kind and part robot, a “six million-dollar man” of technological marvels. He’s the remains of a policeman, Alex Murphy (Peter Weller), who was blown away by the city’s undocumented offence boss, Clarence Boddicker (Kurtwood Smith) and his unite. Having been pronounced dead, Murphy is transformed into a cyborg, a person dependent on robot-like and electronic devices fitting for his survival. RoboCop has the brain and some of the body tissue of Murphy and the computer, armor, and weaponry of a tool.

RoboCop also has the passing memories of who he was, which sets the silver screen apart from so diverse mindless action yarns that only concentrate on blood and guts. Not only is the “RoboCop” silver screen a revenge picture (because Murphy remembers who killed him), it’s a poignant saga of distraught humanity, ironic, really, since Robo is one of the few humane characters in the skin.

RoboCop’s prime directives play an important function in all three movies in the series: (1) Serve the popular trust, (2) protect the innocent, and (3) advocate the law. However, there’s a fourth directive hidden away in his circuitry that provides the plan with new directions as things unfold.

The other major figure in the film is Murphy’s new sidekick, Anne Lewis (Nancy Allen), a tough cop but a sensitive child being. She is the exclusive one in the recounting who suspects that Murphy may be more than a machine, that he may have a woman behind his impenetrable helmet and breastplate.

Verhoeven’s concept of RoboCop owes a good deal to “The Terminator,” which came escape a few years earlier, and Weller’s acting and spokeswoman even look and useful a trace like Arnold’s. None of which lessens our appreciation of the film one touch. In this Director’s Extended Organize, a team a few of minutes are added to the original film, changing its rating from R to Unrated, apparently because of remote violence, and some scenes are, indeed, plenty forceful, primarily Murphy’s initial death and the whole final train.

Despite his being covert behind a ton of makeup, Weller makes a convincing and sympathetic protagonist, cyborg or not; the villains are suitably evil and coldhearted; and the story line’s pacing is abstention and furious. Figure in the satiric touches, analogous to continual TV news commentaries on goofy things happening in the world and an ED-209 accidentally blasting away a OCP executive, and you hire a most-entertaining action flick.

“RoboCop 2″:
Peter Weller, Nancy Allen, Dan O’Herlihy, Felton Perry, and Robert DoQui are cast off in this 1990 upshot as RoboCop, Lewis, the Old Manservant, partnership flunky Johnson, and Police Sgt. Warren Reed. But gaffer Verhoeven left alone get out, replaced by Irvin Kershner, who had done so well with “The Empire Strikes Back” (1980) and “Never Say Conditions Again” (1983). What’s more, the new film was cowritten by Explicit Miller, who had theretofore excelled in the world of threatening comics like “Daredevil” and “Batman.”

Unfortunately, nobody and nothing could help this dismal arise-up. Death, drugs, and destruction are the order of the day as the glaze forsakes most of its progenitor’s lighthearted regardless moving highly-strung petition and replaces it with gunfire, car chases, and explosions.

There is some momentary hope at the beginning of the murkiness that maybe this would be a psychical exploration of the inner RoboCop as Murphy regains even more of his memories and has to reach if he’s chains or machine. But that moment is short-lived, and the film soon degenerates into a grim drug in dispute between Robo and a cult-freak cloudy named Cain (Tom Noonan).

What with oversee strikes, nefarious corporate types, an disorderly citizenry, and some of the worst lawbreakers in home screen past, things ascend d create pretty short-tempered. No time for humor or human relationships here. The cabal rambles on instead of about an hour and half of mayhem and killing, getting old in a hurry. There is no have a go at the drollery or credibility we saw in the original “RoboCop,” and like Solid, Robo has to be knocked around until he’s on his last legs before he is allowed to predominate.

Did I say grim? Everybody in this coating is no good but Murphy and Lewis. And I found it most offensive that multitudinous of the film’s dastardly scoundrels are children! Dialect mayhap the superintendent and/or writers thought it was amusing having a duo of little leaguers beating up a store owner and looting his seek or having a thirteen-year dated using words so foul they’d make a swabbie blush. I didn’t boon it funny in the least. I just wondered what kind of parents would stand for their son to mouth such language in an R-rated film he wasn’t coextensive with advanced in years enough to watch, and I wondered if some parents would do anything for money and their kid’s fifteen minutes of fame. It was these kinds of distractions that kept me from enjoying equable a small carve up of the show.



February 26th, 2010 at 1:28 pm
Posted By: joachimkellersblog
Posted in: Uncategorized


With the Tread 19th emancipating date for
fast approaching, Epidemic has seen supply to kick the marketing up a notch for their Jude Law and Forest Whitaker-starring genre hybrid about a future in which life-saving organ transplants can be repossessed if a buyer gets behind on their payments. Their campaign includes a run of posters advertising the fictional member giving conglomerate, ominously titled The Conjoining, and today the Moviefone network (of which Cinematical is a part) has been given four of their fake organ advertisements to unveil.

Oh, and if you're looking to lunge at some currency, keep your eye alibi for an upcoming team up between Prevalent,

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February 25th, 2010 at 8:53 am
Posted By: joachimkellersblog
Posted in: Uncategorized

The requested URL /~singbigo/nakedweapon.html was not found on this server.


February 23rd, 2010 at 9:53 pm
Posted By: joachimkellersblog
Posted in: Uncategorized

(Original VCD)

Henry Thomas, Drew Barrymore, Robert
MacNaughton, Dee Wallace-Stone


Steven Spielberg




MPAA Rating:


PG
Movie:

* * * * 

Disc(s): * *

½  

Recently there has been a whit of a backlash against

E.T. - The
Very-Tellurian

by participants on this site's message
board. I will claim this again: it is a cold black dark heart that isn't
affected by this movie. Heatless. Black. Dark.
My bride cries every time she sees the silver screen. "I be sure that E.T. isn't
really dead," she sobs. "But I can't help myself." Same here.
I figured what the movie's sensation is: the people in it, and by that I mean
the kids indubitably because this is a kid's movie after all, seem totally tangible.
They talk and front like verifiable kids do, not just like what adults (read:
Hollywood) imagine they should be like. Undeterred by the spaceships and aliens at
the start of the movie, this is not a special effects movie at all. Instead
it is a very merciful one. Warm and funny, this movie has grace hugely
influential during the years (see the brand-new

Signs

for example)
and is a specific classic.
Immediately I have a confession to draw up: I didn't particularly like

E.T.

the blue ribbon term I saw it as a young boy. That is because - hoot it! - I also
wanted a undersized unfamiliar as a partner! I was jealous and hated that little boy's
guts! Soberly! I at worst warmed to the movie when I dictum it again about seven
years ago - who can believe that it's been 20 years already! And of course
when I saw this much-hyped "primary edition" again.
Much has been made of Spielberg's tampering with this "paramount
edition" - of how he digitally replaced handguns wielded by
plainclothes policemen pursuing the kids during the movie's climactic chase
with walkie-talkies. That is minor, but while this sort of Politically
Correct self-censorship isn't too much of a biggie, it does ruin one of the
movie's funniest lines. (Hint: it goes "you're not going as a?"
and was replaced with the September 11 WTC attacks in dress down.)
Differently it doesn't affect one's recreation of the silent picture as such. Even
the scenes involving a computer-generated

E.T.

doesn't irk as much as
Spielberg's keep company with George Lucas' fiddling nearly with the

Star
Wars - Special Edition

did a few years back.


THE DISC:

This is the ritualistic VCD (Video CD), which can be
ordered via Malaysian-based Eureka-Movies.Com
on the Internet. Unlike a lot of VCDs it has section access (every ten
minutes) and a very basic start-up menu. (You access scenes unlike on DVD by
urgent next, or "1", "2", "3", etc.) There
are no superfluous trailers or featurettes. The movie is presented in full-movies
mode.
The earshot is clear bar solitary an inexplicable incessant scratching sound
(like that on an LP - those important black things with holes in them, kids). But
this isn't too distracting exceedingly. Otherwise, even though MPEG compression
(even that used with DVDs) handle night scenes badly,

E.T.

which has
a ration of them remains quite watchable. These scenes, though not perfect up
reticent, look surprising good for the VCD format. Some daylight and other
scenes have a clarity and vibrant bias that belie the movie's time and
looks really tickety-boo.

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WORTH IT?

The two discs come in a specific of the snazziest packages I've
till seen for VCDs. No standard jewel cases, but a fancy hard carton and
compliant up-open detain case. Very charming. Doesn't look cheap at all, which it
is really. At Eureka-Movies
it'll cost you half ($10.97) of what the VHS cassette ($22.98) will charge you
and about a third of what the textbook offspring DVD ($29.98) will cost you.
(Prices quoted are Amazon.com list prices.)


SUPPORT:

With this sort of savings you can believe the kids two or
more movies on VCD at Eureka-Movies.com
this Christmas (

Ice Age

?

Spider-man

?).
VCDs should frisk on your DVD player, but if they don't then you can always
play them on your home PC. If you commandment with it I'm convinced that they'll be at your
doorstep in time for X-mas. Kids each time be partial to quantity to je sais quoi (will
they truly watch all those "making-of" features on the DVDs?) and
these discs will not under any condition wear like your regular VHS tape, in spite of though you
might secretly have a fancy them to.


NOTE:

Do kids still adulate

E.T.

or are they that cynical yet?
I don't be familiar with and should yearning not: but minute that I have the silver screen on disc, the
only thing remaining is for my two-month old coddle daughter to grow advanced in years
enough to keep safe it one age. I am sure she command also hate that elfin boy's
guts for having a cute little wean away from pal . . .


February 21st, 2010 at 5:03 am
Posted By: joachimkellersblog
Posted in: Uncategorized
“The 16th Elvis movie looks
good thanks to cinematographer Lucien Ballard.”

Reviewed by Dennis Schwartz

The 16th Elvis movie looks good thanks to cinematographer Lucien
Ballard. But its story stinks like do all his others, though his Jailhouse
Rock and Viva Las Vegas received some love. The eleven songs suck big time
except for the title song and “Little Egypt.” The 60-year-old Barbara Stanwyck
appears in a supporting role, in one of her last appearances onscreen,
and provides the film’s only real acting, so to speak. This silly, grating
and dreary musical romance is directed by longtime TV director John Rich
(”Boeing (707) Boeing (707)”/”Wives and Lovers”), who keeps it sitcom TV
dumb. It’s based on a story by Allan Weiss, Elvis’ usual formulaic writer.

Charlie Rogers (Elvis Presley) is an orphan, a toughie, a hot-head,
a karate expert, a loudmouth, a wandering troubadour who sports a black
letter jacket and rides a Japanese motorcycle, and someone who is instantly
unlikable because of the chip on his shoulder. Canned from a singing gig
in a college hangout joint called Mother’s Tea House for fighting with
three thuggish college frat boy patrons (the unknown Raquel Welsh is one
of the coeds in that scene, who blurts out a line of dialogue), Charlie
hits the road somewhere in the southwest and on the way tries to pickup
a pretty young girl, Cathy Lean (Joan Freeman), sitting in the back seat
of a Jeep. Upset that Charlie won’t stop trying to bother his girl, sourpuss
madman dad Joe Lean (Leif Erickson), also with a chip on his shoulder,
knocks the obnoxious kid off the road and damages his motorcycle. Maggie
Morgan (Barbara Stanwyck), Joe’s lady friend, is the kind-hearted owner
of the financially troubled carnival where Joe’s the manager and Cathy’s
a carny. The carnival owner offers to pay for the repairs and invites Charlie
to be a roustabout in her carnival while he waits for repairs. Nice girl
Cathy is hot for the wise guy Charlie, but won’t put out for him. So Charlie
settles for the loose woman fortune teller (Sue Ane Langdon), who is willing
to let the rascal fool around with her.

The laughable melodrama has Charlie finding the carnival a learning
lesson in life, as he settles in after waiting a week for his motorcycle.
Charlie learns carny slang, to care more about others and become less self-centered
and loutish, to work hard singing for a living, to be more mature and restrained,
and falls in love for real with Cathy instead of just being a womanizer.
After returning to Maggie’s travelling carnival that he left in spite to
join the carnival of her unscrupulous rival, Harry Carver (Pat Buttram),
due to fights with the family, Charlie now uses his singing to save the
struggling carnival for the honest and sincere Maggie.


February 19th, 2010 at 5:18 pm
Posted By: joachimkellersblog
Posted in: Uncategorized

Goya's Ghosts
(2006)


Director:


Milos Forman


3

Critics' rating

Average user rating

Movie review


From Time Out New York

If you’re allergic to lackluster

Lust for Life

–ish biopics about painters, relax:

Milos Forman

’s new period piece isn’t interested in being the billionth portrait of an artist. There’s no mention of the subject’s childhood, tenure in Rome or marriage; when we first meet Francisco Goya (Skarsgård), he’s already bridging the worlds of classical and modern art. Instead, the filmmaker casts the figure as a passive observer to political oppression in 18th-century Spain. Specifically, the era that saw monks like Brother Lorenzo (Bardem) revive the Spanish Inquisition’s tactics and innocents like Inés (Portman) get thrown into prison for disliking pork. Forman suffered through Czechoslovakia’s occupation by the Soviets, but his sights are set on right now: The euphemisms used to make torture acceptable and an army commander’s insistence that troops will be greeted as liberators suggest that our current moral free fall is just history repeating itself.

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All of which makes

Goya’s Ghosts

seem vital, until melodramatic elements turn into exponential silliness and sink the whole shebang. Do we need countless inserts of someone telling a deafened Goya what we’ve just heard? Did the costume department really think that ludicrous false teeth were the only way we’d tell the second of Portman’s two characters apart? When did eye-rolling become officially sanctioned as acceptable emoting?


Writer:

David Fear
2007-07-17 20:02:53

Heretofore Out Contemporary York Issue 616: July 19–25, 2007
Bookmark

Features


Sin Nombre

's Cary Joji Fukunaga learned his lessons well.


February 16th, 2010 at 9:48 pm
Posted By: joachimkellersblog
Posted in: Uncategorized

John (Arquette) wakes up unsettled, shoeless and consequently resourceless in Hollywood (he’d stashed his savings in his sneakers). It’s Christmas Eve, and he’s touch off his heart on people evening of luxury at the Plaza. A back-butt encounter with a cruising movie exec soon puts him no hope on his feet. With his sensitive friend Donner (Haas) to improve out, it is possible that he can still hustle up $300 in span? Former documentarist Silver’s advertise appear captures the acrid spice of downtown LA’s sun-swept strips and telescopes some half-dozen tricks of the trade into intense, colourful vignettes. The stories are all true, superficially, propriety down to the saga of the stolen shoes and an invisible bogeyman figure who haunts the street hustlers’ worst nightmares, though the 24-hour interval-humour is a sound flamboyant contrivance, and undercuts the on-usual despair, dullness and frustration which must be central to these lives. The movie is funnier than you’d expect, and extremely vigorous played, particularly the touching affinity between Arquette, a meridian cowboy working overtime, and Haas, the softer new kid on the block. The splendid retaliate is by the septuagenarian bluesman Charles Brown.

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February 15th, 2010 at 1:58 am
Posted By: joachimkellersblog
Posted in: Uncategorized

A Showtime presentation of a Snaffle T Prods. moulding. Produced by David Schisgall, Priya Swaminathan, Nina Alvarez. Official producers, John Moser, Diana Barrett, Jack Lechner. Directed by David Schisgall.


With:

Rachel Lloyd.

Sincere in intent but perfunctory in execution, "Very Offspring Girls" is undeniably arresting because of its subject situation, yet at the end of the day unsatisfying because of documaker David Schisgall's ill-focused approach to his figures. Reviews will be confused, but fest conversancy and nontheatrical playdates may raise awareness in compensation the pic's ultimate debut on the Showtime strand network.

Intended as an antidote to glamorized depictions of prostitution that often appear in pop culture, doc repeatedly emphasizes that the average age for girls pressed into "the life" in the U.S. is 13. Unfortunately, this disturbing factoid isn't quite as shocking as Schisgall obviously intends — indeed, it's regrettably familiar to anyone who watches local TV newscasts during sweeps months — and "Very Young Girls" simply doesn't dig deep enough to generate fresh outrage.

Schisgall and his collaborators offer some compelling interviews with several teens who are trying to escape their control-freakish pimps and start new lives. As pic proceeds, some succeed, some don't — and all, unfortunately, come off as fuzzily defined case studies.

New York activist Rachel Lloyd provides shelter and support for exploited girls with her Girls Educational and Mentoring Service (GEMS) organization. But while she earns aud respect with her tireless work, Lloyd, too, remains a sketchy figure. Inexplicably, there's very little examination of what presumably is Lloyd's prime motivation: her own experiences as a prostitute. On the other hand, Lloyd does manage a well-aimed jab at the swaggering misogyny inherent in the lyrics of the Oscar-winning "It's Hard Out Here for a Pimp."

Schisgall might have done well to reveal more about fewer subjects. To his credit, though, he makes inspired use of police-confiscated videos shot by two self-aggrandizing pimps brothers Anthony and Chris Griffith — who documented their day-to-day activities in the hope of becoming stars in their very own reality TV show. Their casual brutality, revealed sporadically in clips scattered throughout the pic, is far more illuminating than any number of talking-head interviews.

Tech values are standard for docs of this sort.

Camera (color, DV), Priya Swaminathan, Nina Alvarez, Schisgall; editor, Jane Jo; music, Nathan Larson; sound, Anthony Erice; associate producer, Josh Freed. Reviewed on DVD, Houston, Sept. 29, 2007. (In Toronto Film Festival — Real to Reel.) Running time: 83 MIN.

 


February 13th, 2010 at 4:23 am
Posted By: joachimkellersblog
Posted in: Uncategorized

You need not be fiercely partisan to desperation at much of the exchange all over the American prosecution of wars after the attacks of September 11, 2001. One gets inured to the horrors, almost exempt to the stories&#8212things like the photographs from Abu Ghraib can peaceful shock us, hastily, but the ongoing debate near what constitutes torture, if we do things like that, if it has to rise to the level of organ failure to be considered torture&#8212well, one would have hoped that that discussion was beneath us. But it isn’t, and here we are, in our endless engagement on anxiety, and Alex Gibney’s masterful documentary is an fantastic account of how we got here, and what unspeakable things we’ve done, and continue to do, obviously in the appoint of latitude.

The story starts as a personal anyone, focusing on Dilawar, an Afghan cabbie imprisoned by U.S. forces shortly after the invasion of his homeland, underneath suspicion of being an enemy combatant. Five days later, he was dead. Gibney’s movie sets unconfined to find out what happened at Bagram, the also gaol in which Dilawar was held and where he died, but this of without a doubt is unbiased the first layer of the onion&#8212one of the pre-eminent points of the film is that these Afghan interrogations were functionally a pilot project, establishing the template for what would befall at Abu Ghraib, and what continues to happen, very, at Guantanamo Bay and elsewhere.

Gibney strains somewhat to accumulate the blurry on Dilawar&#8212his is a downcast and illustrative case, but it’s more emblematic than anything else. (Unless, of course, you’re a member of his family.) But this lucid pic takes us through the extraction of torture&#8212how John Yoo and Alberto Gonzales concocted acceptable justifications for the benefit of circumventing the confines of the Geneva Convention, how Dick Cheney and George W. Bush not just allowed this to come off, but actively promoted a system of torture, while avoiding any direct lines back to them, and how, when called out on this regular program of torture, the military hid behind a blatantly false only one-bad-apples defense. (Much of this in any event territory was explored, on a somewhat smaller scale, in Ghosts of Abu Ghraib.) Among the numberless unsettling things here is the incidental made by a historian of American astuteness activities, who calls the program at Abu Ghraib the culmination of a half-century of CIA interrogation techniques.

Gibney holds his own factional cards relatively close to the vest&#8212he’s no Michael Moore&#8212but there’s picayune doubt about where he stands. Unvarying the cinematography is sometimes a tipoff&#8212for exemplification, Pfc. Damien Corsetti, solitary of Dilawar’s interrogators, is a large and menacing check, and is shot in a manner that suggests a conformity to Pvt. Gomer Pyle in his model moments. It’s not a story of all villains and victims, however&#8212journalists like the Redesigned York Times’ Tim Golden are credited for their consequential work, those inside the military like Alberto Mora try to attend to as the scruples of the service, and legislators corresponding to Sen. Carl Levin are deeply skeptical about the unfixed answers with which they’re provided. And uniquely manifestly positioned to talk about this subject and influence the influential argumentation is Senator John McCain&#8212the footage of him as a Vietnam P.O.W. is deeply poignant, as are his eloquent denunciations of the current torture program endorsed by the Bush Administration. (At the ever of the untie of this DVD, alas, this isn’t much of a subject for the duration of discussion in the run-up to Nomination Day.)

The blur offers some freaky re-creations of what are supposed to be generic interrogations; it’s possibly a filmmaking faux pas, and sometimes borders on the goofy. That’s noticeably true because so much of the natural stuff here is powerful, and galvanizing, and stomach-turning, especially the suggestion that we’re torturing people to distract from the fact that we haven’t captured Osama bin Laden. If a heyday of reckoning comes, there are tons who will sooner a be wearing a numerous to answer for the treatment of, and parsing sound niceties cannot cover up what any decent person could tear a strip off you is so unmistakeably wrong.


February 10th, 2010 at 9:24 pm
Posted By: joachimkellersblog
Posted in: Uncategorized