The front door to an apartment swings open... an unseen figure walks through the living area and approaches a beautiful blonde woman wearing a robe as she walks around the bathroom... he then deliberately empties the barrel of his revolver into her – this is the jarring cold opening to the film noir Illegal (1955), and one thing is for sure, it knows how to grab your attention. Funnily enough, this was the third adaptation of the 1929 play “The Mouthpiece” by Frank J. Collins, following Mouthpiece (1932) and The Man Who Talked Too Much (1940) – and they say movies are remade too much today. Flash to Victor Scott (Edward G. Robinson), a district attorney who is wise to all the angles and is graced with a silver tongue. With an unyielding desire to win (he got it from growing up and fighting his way out of the slums), he argues every case like it is his last.
With a towering warrior frame, Jason Momoa is a rare actor whose size onscreen matches his larger than life build in person (no offense to other stars, but usually, for whatever reason, height is not one of their trademarks). Yet, despite his imposing height and breadth, he is chill and zen when you meet him – a relaxed, calming presence. Momoa has quickly built up his star status, most wholly unaware of his time on Baywatch (44 episodes, no less), often forgotten in his role on Stargate: Atlantis, or his turn in the remake of Conan the Barbarian, most thinking his take on Khal Drogo (on the surface, a savage barbarian, Momoa built a fascinating, multi-faceted character) in Game of Thrones was his first major performance. . . and since, he has made intriguing, surprising, and most importantly, quality choices with his career – splitting time between film and television. Eccentric roles in B movies like Bullet to the Head and The Bad Batch, or selecting the Canadian series Frontier (where he plays a part-Native outlaw involved in the fur trade), fit the man like a glove, personas that meld with the actor, for even his most recent win, that of Arthur Curry, better known as Aquaman (currently, as of January the 8th, 2019, the number one film in the world), could have been considered a risky bet. . . for the underwater superhero has often been the joke of the industry (remember Vincent Chase’s lack of interest in Entourage) – after all, he swims around the ocean talking to fish, yet Momoa (and director James Wan) have made the hero cool again – a slick, at times comedic warrior hero in the vein of King Arthur or Indiana Jones.
What would you do if you knew the end of days was nigh? Maybe you’d relish in your memories of the good old times, or revel in the anarchy going on around you. . . perhaps you’d party the night away, then go out in a blaze of suicidal glory just to spite a foregone conclusion? ? ? These are some of the topics covered in the Canadian understated-apocalyptic Indie dramedy Last Night (1998). Written, directed and starred in by Don McKellar (his first feature film; also the scribe of the fascinating picture The Red Violin), he litters Canada’s largest city, Toronto, with not only trash (and a few remaining stragglers), but also a simple melancholic poignancy, a dry and awkward humour that covers up the anguish that the ‘New Year’s Eve-like countdown to the end’ brings with it. McKellar’s take on the “2000, Seen By” project (which had filmmakers looking at the approaching excitement and fears of the Millennium), had him making the wise choice of depicting 2000 as the end of the world (rather than a current fad that would have it feeling passé almost immediately after the fact).
Thought I’d challenge myself a bit today – so while I review DC’s 2018 feature Aquaman, co-written and directed by James Wan, I’m going to try to tuck in numerous H2O related tunes that will aptly describe the mood and feelings of the characters or situation. Opening with the mythos behind the birth of the superhero, through random happenstance, a lighthouse keeper, Thomas Curry (Temuera Morrison), rescues a Queen, Atlanna (Nicole Kidman), who has washed ashore from the deep blue sea – a cosmic chance or fate bringing two wholly different individuals together. . . love at first sight.
If I were to mention that this review is about a suave but deadly secret agent who is a ladies’ man and also wears a white tuxedo, many of you would probably assume that this article is about one of the seven James Bond movies starring Roger Moore. This is not so. Instead, I am transporting you into the weird and wacky cult world of Filipino actor Weng Weng, a.k.a. Agent 00, The Impossible Kid, or Wang; a 2'9" tall karate and gun expert, a clear spoof of James Bond and the Broccoli produced franchise. Basically a B piece of exploitation cinema, Weng Weng stars in two Bond spoofs, 1981's For Y’Ur Height Only and the 1982 flick The Impossible Kid. The first follows Agent 00 as he attempts to stop a drug syndicate and their powerful leader, the rather conspicuously named Mr. Giant (who is unobserved until the final scenes – much like Blofeld in the Bond series). With help from a youthful undercover female agent named Irma (Beth Sandoval), who is on the inside of the crime ring, Weng Weng is able to frustrate their plans time and time again. It is soon realized that the reason for their operation is to fund and use an N-Bomb – which is being created by the kidnapped Doctor Kohler (Mike Cohen). In the finale, Weng Weng invades Hidden Island (after all, it was rather difficult to locate), the secret base of Mr. Giant. Will he be able to foil the villain’s maniacal plans – of course, this is Weng Weng we are talking about here (and there is a sequel).
A Christmas movie that is truly special has that moment. . . that specific sequence magically able to transcend the medium – enlivening our spirits, touching our hearts, rejuvenating the soul. . . a bell ringing – it giving an angel its wings; a humbug of a man able to get another chance at really living life; a family, despite all odds, getting home to their young son that has been left home alone; and, in today’s film, though the ending could arguably be it, a woman brings her newly adopted (orphaned) Dutch daughter to see Santa Claus at the mall, as the little girl truly believes she will be able to speak to him – her mother, knowing that he can’t speak the language, is gobsmacked when he starts to talk to her – bringing so much joy to her cherub-like face. Of course, you’ve probably guessed it, I am referencing George Seaton’s 1947 classic Miracle on 34th Street (he both writes and directs). After a drunk Santa is removed from his post during the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade thanks to the complaint of Kris Kringle (Edmund Gwenn – winning an Oscar for the role), methodical event director Doris Walker (Maureen O’Hara) asks the man to don the suit – filmed during the actual parade.
With a title that brings to mind the film noirs of yesteryear, or, an egg for that matter, 1992's Hard-Boiled is an action packed extravaganza from writer/director John Woo (his last bombastic Hong Kong feature before heading over to Hollywood). With a score that often surprisingly leans to the jazzy side (composed by Michael Gibbs), providing a noirish vibe to be sure (the at-times harsh lighting does not hurt either), Woo actually originally set out to create some sort of unique cross between Dirty Harry and Bullitt (a self professed lover of Clint Eastwood and Steve McQueen), and, if you amped the action up to eleven in both of these films, you’d have something along the lines of Hard-Boiled.