BLACK SNAKE MOAN
Starring Samuel L. Jackon, Christina Ricci, Justin Timberlake
Directed by Craig Brewer , , 2007
Distributed by Paramount
Film Reviewed by Ryan Lies

From the moment I saw the saucy trailer for this odd piece of exploitation flickery, I knew it was going to be bad news. It just seemed so eager to illicit gasps from the audience: full of unhinged sexuality and racially unnerving imagery, set against a torrid Southern backdrop, with its heavy crunch of old blues tunes. But, you know what, for some strange reason I still kinda wanted to see the damn thing. Perhaps Tarantino and Rodriguez's Grindhouse had me stoked for the return of good old-fashioned, politically-incorrect sleaze cinema. I don't know. Maybe it was just seeing Christina Ricci rolling around in her panties, eager to find redemption in the demonic/angelic balm of the blues.

In Craig Brewer's Black Snake Moan, the ghost of Robert Leroy Johnson hangs heavy in the air. Slide guitars and boot-stomping echo the pounding of heavy, lustful hearts. Bodies both male and female, black and white, young and old sweat under the sultry Virginia sun. The Lord watches on high as Satan makes playthings of the mortal nowhere-souls in search of love, in search of escape, all running from that slithering, soulless "thing" in the dark.

Which is my way of saying that, if nothing else, Black Snake Moan has atmosphere to spare. The film is thick with it. And though the story itself is beyond ridiculous, you still get sucked in, one way or another, and fall under its moistened spell.

Christina Ricci plays Rae, the severely misguided, doe-eyed germ farm who loves her boyfriend (Timberlake) and doesn't want him to go off and serve his country, but damn if she can't wait to drop her knickers for any Tom, DICK, and Harry that crosses her path. Samuel Jackson is Lazarus, a man struggling with his own demons. An ex-local blues legend of sorts, he's nursing wounds from discovering that his woman is running off with his brother. Angry at women and God, ready to find solace in the bottle again, he seems like an even worse piece of human flotsam than Ricci's town slut. After a night of heavy drug-use and drinking, Ricci is beaten unconscious by one of her boyfriend's buddies and left for dead on the side of the road, wearing next to nothing, and looking like even less. When Lazarus finds her the next morning, he suddenly sees it as his mission to cure this young lady of her wicked ways, and perhaps redeem himself in the process. After cleaning her up, he chains her to his heater.

Rae, naturally, is a little freaked out by this, but sooner than you'd imagine, she gives up the fight and decided to go along with this strange act of contrition. Eventually she looks upon Lazarus as a father figure, who can quell her screaming inner demons with a few smooth licks on his guitar. Emotionally tempests of Biblical proportions wage war with the confines of normal (Southern) society and we find that with a little help from God, a whole lotta cigarettes, and that magical unguent of music from the darkest depths of the soul, things just might be OK in this crazy, mixed-up world.

The problem with the movie is that there's so much going on inside these characters, and the characters around them, that the movie doesn't seem to be able to do much with it all. Realizations are made, redemption (of a sort) is found, but most of all, it just leaves you with a feeling that this could've been a much more entertaining flick if it hadn't tried so hard, and maybe not taken itself so serious. At times it's like someone is standing on screen reading the Old Testament, while a scratchy (yet sumptuous) Blind Lemon Jefferson tune roils in the background.

I personally wish that the movie had played more to its exploitive side and just gone for broke, instead of trying to moralize and wrap everything up in a neat little bow. If you're gonna add nymphomania, child-sexual-abuse, and racial tension to a stew, then you gotta go for it, man. Make it spicy, make it burn. Don't try and preach.

The movie is total camp, but it tries to be much more. Normally I'd say great, but in this case, more camp would've better. At one point towards the climax, the film reaches a point of unadulterated hokiness: Lazarus is playing the blues, Rae is cuddling his leg as she winces from flashbacks of her abusive childhood, and outside the windows, lightning flashes like cymbal-crashes from God. It's a brilliant bit of exploitation; it's WAY over the top, WAY obvious, but dammit it if isn't everything I wanted from this movie, all wrapped up in one scene. Too bad the rest of the flick didn't play out like this one moment.

Ricci is great as the "town-bicycle" with (maybe) a heart of gold, and Jackson is always a strong presence on the screen. The two make for a very odd, yet compelling couple. And there's loads of great, grindhouse style dialogue: Priceless lines like "Nothing cures the blues like good pussy," and "I've dealt with the law plenty of times just because I was black and nearby." And like good blues music, the film carries a palpable air of sweat, stink, and sex.

But it just doesn't add up to the movie I wished it could've been. It has its moments, but by the end, it just isn't there. I was hoping for something like Larry Cohen's Bone. What I got was a movie that reeked of old style exploitation, but didn't have the balls to admit it. Sure, pushing this combustive subject matter further might've irked some viewers, but it would've rang truer. That's why so many of those supposed "crappy" exploitation flicks worked: they were cheap and sleazy, but they had a fearless heart; and, more often than not, they were alive with a more essential truth than their over budgeted counterparts.

Black Snake Moan could've been a whole lot better if it had been made in the 70s. And with no budget. Hollywood thinks they can tell these kinds of stories, but they can't. Filmmakers, if your name isn't Quentin Tarantino, Robert Rodriguez or, hell, even Eli Roth, then don't even try. And if you DO insist on trying, then donŐt promise sleaze and deliver a "message movie." Most of are smart, we can get the message just fine without having it hammered in our ears. And we'll hear the message just fine. But we want a little naughtiness with it, ok? Titillate while you teach, but NEVER stop titillating.

(Ryan Lies is a staffwriter for No-Fi "Magazine" and misses two things about Christina Ricci.)


PROPHECY
Starring Robert Foxworth, Talia Shire, Armand Assante
Directed by John Frankenheimer , , 1979
Distributed by Paramount
DVD Reviewed by Ryan Lies

Even a rabid horror aficionado such as myself, who has logged many hours since the mid-80's roaming the aisles of myriad video stores, is bound to have missed a few flicks. There are, after all, just so many hours in a day, and so much money in one's wallet (or parents' wallets, as sometimes the case may be.) Having not been allowed to rent R-rated movies until my teens, I thought I had pretty much seen all the PG and PG-13 rated horror movies there were to see. When I was a kid I would beg my parents to rent anything even remotely resembling a horror flick if it carried a PG rating. If that's all they were gonna let me have, then, dammit, I was gonna take it!

Anyway, somehow along the way, I totally missed Prophecy, a late-70's eco-horror flick from esteemed director John Frankenheimer (The Manchurian Candidate, Seconds, and Ronin). And after watching it finally on DVD, I am berating myself hardcore for not having seen it sooner! Damn, is it one fun stupid ball of craziness!

Roaring in towards the end of the "eco-horror" trend (which included such classics as Grizzly, Food of the Gods, Frogs, and Squirm) Prophecy tells the story of idealistic Dr. Robert Verne (Robert Foxworth) and his wife Maggie (Talia Shire) as they investigate some nefarious goings-on around a small, Maine logging town. A local group of Native Americans, lead by the stonefaced and hot-blooded John Hawks (Armand Assante) are protesting the logging company's encroachment on their sacred land. Some townspeople have gone missing the forests, as have the search-teams that have gone after them. Stories of mutant births, sightings of giant fish, and a particularly vicious raccoon-attack lead Dr. Verne to believe that the logging-company isn't exactly being truthful about their "environmentally friendly" business-practices. And then the mutant grizzly bear shows up, and heads start rolling.

Prophecy may be one of the most bizarre, and just plain bonkers, horror flicks to come from a major studio (Paramount), by a major director, besides maybe Exorcist II: the Heretic. And that's saying something, cuz Exorcist II is just plain nuts.

As the plot thickens, so does the insanity, and by the end of the flick, you're gonna be shaking your head in disbelief. But have no doubt, you did just see that! Yes, the mutant grizzly bear looks like a guy in a suit half-burned by acid. Yes, Talia Shire spends the climax of the movie playing wet-nurse to a mutant bear-cub, that makes mewling noises that get under your skin almost as bad as the baby in Eraserhead. Yes, the very Italian Assante plays an Indian. Yes, there is a huge pollywog, and yes the mutant grizzly bear tears down a whole freakin' CABIN! And just wait until the end, when Assante grabs a bow and arrow and goes all Legolas on the bear's ass. AND, there's also the best death-involving-a-sleeping-bag scene that I've seen since Friday The 13th Part 7!!!

Hoo boy, this movie's got the goods! I haven't had this much fun since my last birthday. Come to think of it, Prophecy was more fun because I actually remember it!

The story moves along a good clip, and despite the liberal-leanings of the main characters, it never gets bogged down in Greenpeacey proselytizing. The cinematography is top-notch, and the performances are generally compelling (even if they do get a bit hammy at times). I particularly enjoyed Robert Foxworth (who was recently seen in HBO's Six Feet Under), who starts the movie intense and never loosens up one bit. He's one pissed-off humanitarian! He now joins the ranks of Great Hirsute Actors In 70's Films, alongside James Brolin and Donald Sutherland. Rock on actors with beards! Long live beards!

For a PG movie, the kills are surprisingly gory, which is another reason I regret not seeing this in my formative, "no R-rated movies, Ryan" days. I would've LOVED this flick. I probably would've made my parents rent it for me over and over again.

If you love outrageous horror flicks, or you've got a jones for crazy animals ripping people apart, then you can't go wrong with Prophecy. It's played straight, and even though much of the action will probably elicit laughs instead of gasps, it doesn't take away from the fact that it's a well-made, well-paced stab at Horror With a Message. It's silly, but it gets its point across just fine. Just ignore the ridiculous "gotcha" ending. Or don't. By that point you won't believe your eyes anyway, so just go with it.

Too bad, however, that Paramount doesn't seem to hold this film in as high regard as do, because this DVD pretty much sucks. The picture and sound quality are fine, but as with most horror films from their back-catalog, there isn't dick for extras. Not even a trailer! Paramount does a fine job with their "prestige" titles (Titanic, The Godfather trilogy, Braveheart) and their big-budget franchises (Star Trek, Indiana Jones) but when it comes to those "low-brow" horror flicks, they just don't seem to care. Shame on them, because when us fans love a movie like this, we want the goods, man! Maybe an interview with the guy in the bear-suit, perhaps? Or a Talia Shire audio-commentary, where she explains how she was able to cuddle that awful, mewling mutant bear-cub and keep a straight face? Hell, we at least want a damn trailer! Trailers are half the reason we love horror films in the first place!

Ah well, what are you gonna do?

(Ryan Lies is a staffwriter for No-Fi "Magazine" and loves beards on his bears.)


REBIRTH OF LUCRETIA
Starring Melissa Monson, Vanessa Brayton, Barbara Wright
Directed by Robert Monson , , 2006
Distributed by Live Boulevard
DVD Reviewed by Ryan Lies

According to Roman legend, Lucretia was a noblewoman who was raped by Sextus Tarquinus, the son of King Lucius. After informing her family of what had happened to her, Lucretia committed suicide.

In writer/director Robert Monson's short films The Birth of Lucretia (included as a supplement on this disc) and The Rebirth of Lucretia, a young woman bearing the name of the titular victim of this infamous tale believes that all women born with this name will die an early death. She wages a battle both psychological and spiritual in an attempt to save herself from this predestined demise.

The Rebirth of Lucretia is a stunning, 20-minute journey into Lucretia's tortured psyche that will leave you drained and disturbed. You will emerge from this pithy, yet mind-scarring journey feeling perhaps confused, but with the impression that you have just ventured through a nightmare caught on camera. Monson has captured the essence, hopelessness, and terror of nightmare-logic in a way that very few filmmakers (some with budgets 10 times that of his) have been able to conjure.

Granted immortality by an old Witch, Lucretia confronts her memories and imagination as she struggles to understand the curse she believes she can defeat, and learns painfully what price is she must pay in doing so. In this maelstrom of torment and blood there is a being named Latimer, who haunts Lucretia and coerces murderous outbreaks. Is this a witch or some sort of parasite? And do I even have any idea what I'm talking about? After repeated viewings, I am even more unsure of just what it is that drives Lucretia. And I will go back for more.

There is no conventional narrative here, but Rebirth certainly tells a story. It is a story that will more than likely confound most viewers, and demand repeated viewings, but there is nothing wrong with that in my book. It's refreshing to see a horror film that places such demands on those who watch it.

Monson presents his movie in shadowy black-and-white, with jagged edits and a soundtrack rich in its minimalism, bringing to mind the early work of David Lynch, E. Elias Merhige and Shinya Tsukamoto. This is most certainly a movie to watch with ALL the lights off.

You know me, I'm not the film-school, let's-quote-terms-from-our-textbooks kind of guy. I won't bore you with bunk about subtext and technique. This is a movie that has to be experienced with a mind uncluttered by concerns about "what is this saying to me" and "why was it edited and lit like it was?" Let it hammer you, and inject itself into your synapses and ride the experience.

It's a brilliant piece of work, and Monson is a talent to watch. And I mean this as a complement when I say this: The Rebirth of Lucretia is somewhat like Psycho as written by Poppy Z. Brite, with a soundtrack by THROBBING GRISTLE É only better.

Monson's earlier short, the prequel The Birth of Lucretia, is, as I said, also included here, and adds a bit more coherence to later film. It gives us a brief, but wrenching look at Lucretia, on the brink of suicide, before she was granted her purported immortality before Latimer. It is more subdued and melancholy than the jarring, nightmare-cocktail of Rebirth of Lucretia, but emotionally draining nonetheless. And I appreciated the inclusion of the SISTERS OF MERCY cut on the soundtrack here, even if it is a bit expected.

A knowledge of the Lucretia legend, and watching the original short-film first will help with understanding the intricacies of the story, but still, prepare yourself for a unique and troubling experience. Monson is a gifted filmmaker with a very brutal vision, and I hope to see more of his work in the future. In fact, SKINNY PUPPY, if you're reading this, give this dude a call when you go to make your next video!

Also, it's worth your time to check out the commentaries on the films. Very informative, and will help with sorting out more of the story.

(Ryan Lies is a staffwriter for No-Fi "Magazine" and eagerly awaits the Afterbirth Of Lucretia.)


RENO 911!: MIAMI
Starring Thomas Lennon, Kerry Kenney-Silver, Cedric Yarbrough,
Niecy Nash, Wendi McLendon-Covey, Carlos Alazraqui, Robert Ben Garant,
Patton Oswalt, Paul Rudd, Paul Reubens, The Rock
Directed by Ben Garant, , 2007
Distributed by 20th Century Fox / Paramount
Film Reviewed by Chris Beyond

It's actually pretty easy to keep this review short if you are already familiar with the television show on Comedy Central that this film is based on. Basically imagine that show, but with all the nudity and language uncensored. You get to see all of the main characters in states of undress...and the film is only about 50 minutes longer than the show.

Ok, so that was putting it simply. Luckily the film does succeed for the most part despite its short length. The film finds the cast of cops from Reno 911! - who star in their own COPS-style television show there - invited to a police convention in Miami. Once they get there, dressed not unlike the cast of Revenge Of The Nerds Part 2, they find that they can't get into the convention center because of a computer snafu. This leads us to their trashy hotel and a piece of masturbatory filmmaking that makes this sentence far from ironic.

When they attempt to get into the convention on the next day, they find out that a poison had been released into the center leaving Patton Oswalt as the acting mayor and the cops from Reno as the acting law enforcement for the area until a antidote can be found.

So then we get into the familiar style we're used to. The Reno cops answer bizarre call after call while dealing with various subplots including a mystery tattoo and Scarface-esque crime lord played by Paul Rudd (Anchorman, The 40 Year Old Virgin). There is kind of a reunion of the 90's comedy group The State too if you pay attention to the actors in the tattoo parlors. Thomas Lennon as Lt. Dangle, Kerry Kenny as Deputy Trudy Wiegel, and Patton Oswalt pretty much steal the film, but there is actually a pretty good cameo by "The Rock" who pokes fun at the kind of characters he normally plays. And trust me I do NOT like "The Rock." I even hate calling him "The Rock" but I don't even feel like looking up his real name. Isn't it Hot Carl or something like that?

One interesting thing to note that this is probably the biggest exposure that Morrissey has gotten in film. Lt. Dangle wears a Morrissey Tee-Shirt throughout half of the film.

In the end it really feels like it would have been just as fine seeing the film as a special made for TV movie on Comedy Central. It's good, but it still feels like we're watching it on a huge tv screen. You don't have to know the show to enjoy the film though which is good as most people probably haven't heard of it. It also seems like a lot of stuff was left on the cutting room floor as some characters just disappear for a while. Plus there are even more scenes after the credits that the director (also one of the stars) may have had a hard time finding a place for. Maybe we'll see a whole second disc devoted to outtakes when it goes to DVD?

(Chris Beyond is the creator of No-Fi "Magazine"
and has been to Florida, but mostly just Disneyworld.)