Henceforth, herewith and therefrom, we have the final week of Drive-In Academy Award nominations. Yay, saith the Lord, there are too many Hubbies. If you haven’t voted yet, I don’t wanna hear about it. Just get to work. OK, gimme the envelope. The You’ve-Made-Too-Many-B-Movies Award * Adrienne Barbeau, Bram Stoker’s…
Conventional wisdom says that the Coen Brothers–Joel, who directs, and Ethan, who produces–can do no wrong artistically. Of course, that’s not true. Barton Fink, with its arrogant antihero wittily subverting the idea that the creative process can take the place of real-life experience, was a generally dense and often obtuse…
There are two theories behind the Hollywood mistreatment of Julia Roberts’ latest vehicle, Mary Reilly: Either the studio, TriStar, shot several endings because the film sucked, or because its fitful, mischievous tone wouldn’t suit Julia Roberts fans. The movie was pulled from its original release date last summer and subjected…
Mike Nichols’ new film, The Birdcage, has most of the trappings of a typical domestic comedy: Val (David Futterman) returns from college to announce to his father, Armand (Robin Williams), that he’s engaged to the daughter of a right-wing U.S. senator (Gene Hackman). The senator is embroiled in a controversy,…
I always wanted to use the word “penultimate” in a sentence, and this is the penultimate week of the 1996 Drive-In Academy Award nominations, better known as the Hubbies–the only awards that never honor Emma Thompson under any circumstances. And the nominees are… Best Geek Acting * Penny Arcade, Hellroller,…
No he don’t I Feel Alright Steve Earle Warner Bros. Records A country boy who busted into the honky-tonk swinging an electric guitar like a longhair and spitting out his junkie lyrics like a Springsteen who never even heard of the promised land, Steve Earle fucked himself up but good…
I’m no fan of mob justice, but in the name of good filmmaking, I say American audiences should campaign to get the American citizenship of Barbet Schroeder revoked. The filmmaker began his career 27 years ago in France, making a series of deliberately obscure personal dramas–two of which featured soundtracks…
Trends in movie themes are peculiar things. Sometimes they don’t manifest themselves in predictable or expected ways, but they’re there right on the screen, looking you straight in the face, begging to be noticed. Case in point: Less than a week after Dallas’ first and only showing of Abel Ferrera’s…
It’s Ladies Week in the ongoing announcement of the 1996 Drive-In Academy Award nominees, and somewhere in this column you will find our favorite Hubbie category (as if I have to tell you which one that is). Get out your pencils, and gimme the goldurn envelope. Best Actress * Maria…
Jackie Chan, the most popular screen actor in the world, doesn’t make movies. He is his movies–a one-man film industry, kicking and spinning and leaping his way into cinemas all over the planet. For more than 15 years, he’s helped define and develop the Hong Kong film community, appearing in…
The Music of Chance, a little-seen film directed by Philip Haas, is an enigma of sorts, but a fascinating one: After a card sharp loses a poker game, he and a friend must pay off their debt by building a stone wall that serves no purpose. You keep expecting the…
Voting in the 1996 Drive-In Academy Awards continues apace, except I don’t really know what “apace” means. Anyhow, you still have time to vote. The only requirement is that you’ve seen at least 60 of the year’s grade-B exploitation releases. The number is so high because we know you’re gonna…
As a rule, I oppose giving away the endings of movies–not because of some vague notion of devotion to the film itself, but because it isn’t necessary. If a movie is bad, it’s usually bad all the way through, and divulging the climax is pointless. Rules were made to be…
When somebody pays attention to filmmaker Abel Ferrara, it’s usually for something naughty he did–shooting Harvey Keitel on a date with Rosy Palm and her five sisters in Bad Lieutenant, or orchestrating the gang rape of a doe-eyed mute woman, only to have her launch a revenge killing spree in…
Many actors–hell, maybe even all actors–can easily outdistance Christian Slater for on-screen magnetism. He’s gotten away with that bargain-basement Nicholson ripoff since Heathers, but he’s never been able to equal Nicholson’s evil energy–the devilish charm that makes Nicholson captivating in almost any part. When the story doesn’t demand of him…
“I’ll tell you something,” Bob Musgrave whispers while standing in Goff’s Hamburgers, a curiously highbrow dive off the Tollway. “Back in the ’70s, the owner, Harvey Goff, used to keep this side door to the restaurant open, and every once in a while, he’d shoot a .38 slug into a…
Here we are again. It’s time for the 1996 Drive-In Academy Award nominees. I know you’re thrilled. The coveted Hubbie will be awarded in early April, and once again there are no duplications between the Hubbies and those other Academy Awards that they give out at the Dorothy Chandler Pavilion…
Anthony has spent the last few weeks in a mental hospital. Dignan, Anthony’s best friend, wants to get him out, and has planned an elaborate escape: Anthony ties his bed sheets together, shimmies out the window to his pal waiting below, and together they make a daring, daylight break for…
Every actor wants to be a drunk, and every actress wants to be a hooker. I don’t know why exactly, but I know you can take the straightest white-bread suburban nerd out of an acting class and say, “Hey, how would you like to play a crack-addicted serial killer?” and…
When the new Ridley Scott film, White Squall, really gets rolling, it lives up to the energetic image of its title. The sea rages on like some great, angry ogre of wind and water as a schooner–a floating Outward Bound high school called the Albatross–is mercilessly batted about by a…
“Oscar-caliber” is the kind of backhanded cliche that film critics dole out at year’s end like gruel at a soup kitchen. (Critics hope to guilt Academy voters into seeing things their way or suffering the consequences–whatever those might be.) The plaudit, so overused to begin with, is faint praise at…
If Robert Rodriguez and Quentin Tarantino aren’t careful, they’ll risk overstaying their critical welcome even before they’ve had a chance to get really cozy. Both directors’ careers have followed arcs that quickly intersected: Each directed independent, critically lauded feature debuts (Rodriguez, his $8,000 miracle El Mariachi; Tarantino, the festival-circuit hit…
