Miss Christie would have loved the explanations. Her plots always ended with puzzled questions and serene answers (“The dog did not bark because the poisoned dagger . . .”), and so does this one. By the end of Color of Night I was, frankly, stupefied. To call the movie absurd would be missing the point, since any shred of credibility was obviously the first thing to be thrown overboard. The movie has ambitions to belong to the genre of Jagged Edge, Fatal Attraction, Basic Instinct, Single White Female, and other twisto-thrillers, but why did it aim so low? The movie is so lurid in its melodrama and so goofy in its plotting that with just a little more trouble it could have been a comedy.
The Concorde—Airport ’79
(Directed by David Lowell Rich; starring Robert Wagner, John Davidson, Mercedes McCambridge; 1979)
Q. Gee, Mr. Science, what’s a Concorde?
A. A Concorde is an airplane like the one you see in this movie, Penrod. It flies faster than the speed of sound. It can go from Washington, D.C., to Paris, France, in less than four hours.
What does it do then?
It lands, Penrod. Then it flies on to Moscow in the morning.
But . . . golly whillikers, Mr. Science! Why doesn’t it just fly to Moscow in the first place!?!
Because then, Penrod, there wouldn’t be the scenes in Paris where Robert Wagner takes Susan Blakely out to dinner, and George Kennedy takes Bibi Andersson out to dinner.
But . . . gosh all get out, Mr. Science! Why does Robert Wagner take Susan Blakely out to dinner in Paris!?! After all, she has the secrets that could destroy his industrial empire, and so, when the plane was flying to Paris, he tried to shoot it down with one of his guided missiles?
When you are a little older, Penrod, you will learn that there are great restaurants in Paris.
But . . . when he has her alone, why doesn’t he just shoot her or stab her or something? Instead of trying to shoot down the plane when she’s on board? And then the next day, he tries to bomb the plane. Wouldn’t it be simpler if . . .
Nothing is simple, Penrod. you do not buy a woman dinner in Paris only to shoot or stab her.
But . . . why did the people get back on the plane in Paris after it had been attacked by guided missiles and fighter jets, and had done a loop-the-loop in the air and almost crashed in the ocean? Weren’t they scared?
Not scared enough to turn in their Concorde tickets for tourist class on Aeroflot, I guess, Penrod.
Golly, Mr. Science, that plane sure was going fast!
As I said, Penrod, two thousand miles an hour.
Remember that scene where the pilot opens the cockpit window and sticks out his hand with the flare gun, Mr. Science???
Who could forget it, Penrod? It was a high point of the movie.
But . . . at two thousand miles an hour, wouldn’t the air tear the side off the plane, and pull the pilot out of the cockpit through the open window?
The plane had slowed to one thousand miles an hour by then, Penrod. Pay better attention.
But . . . the pilot wanted to fire a flare gun because the heat from the flare would distract the heat-sensitive guided missile chasing the plane, but wouldn’t the plane’s engines be hotter than a little old flare?!?
Only seemingly, Penrod.
Thanks, Mr. Science!!!
Critters II
(Directed by Mick Garrett; starring Scott Grimes, Liane Curtis; 1988)
Critters II is a movie about furry little hand puppets with lots of teeth, who are held up to salad bars by invisible puppeteers while large numbers of actors scream and pronounce unlikely dialogue. It lacks all of the style and sense of fun of the original Critters (1986), and has no reason for existence—aside, of course, from the fact that Critters is a brand name, and this is the current model.
I mention the hand puppets because they are so obvious. Unlike the original film, which was a genuinely entertaining rip-off of E.T., this movie is not even a competent rip-off of Critters. It is quite obvious, in many shots, that the critters—who are about the size of a bowling ball and have lots of teeth—are lined up along the edges of tables and other flat surfaces so that unseen puppeteers can operate them. It is rare to see a critter moving anywhere on his own, except as a ball being pulled along by an invisible string. The critters in the first movie had personality. In this movie, they’re only props.
The plot is as before. The Cripes, a toothy, voracious race of interstellar garbage disposal units, have landed on Earth. They are followed here by bounty hunters, who blast them down with weapons that look as if they were made out of old tailpipes. The bounty hunters can assume the appearance of actual human beings, which means that the producers didn’t have to spend any extra money on special makeup; all they had to do is hire an actor and say that he was an alien.
Anyway, the Cripes attack the same town they attacked the first time around. And the movie attacks the same plot it attacked the first time around—right down to the cantankerous local sheriff and the townspeople who band together to fight the invasion. But while the first movie had considerable wit, this one is a demoralized enterprise from beginning to end. And it particularly misses the presence of M. Emmet Walsh, who played the sheriff in the first film with his usual oily charm.
Which leads me to a helpful suggestion. In the case of a movie like Critters II, the story is by definition utterly inconsequential. The only element from the original movie that interests the financial backers is the title. Since Critters II can be used as a title by anyone who holds the copyright to Critters, and the title alone will lure people into the theater, why bother with a mere retread? Why not have some fun?
My suggestion for Critters III: Make it a satire on sleazoid critter movies, starring the hapless and unseen employees who operate the hand puppets. Take us backstage. Show us the crummy special effects, but make fun of them. Pillory the crass financial guys who cynically demand a no-brainer remake. Make the hero a bright young film-school grad who dreams that his version of Critters will win an Oscar.
Opportunities for satire are everywhere. In Critters II there is an amazingly bad sequence in which all of the critters roll themselves up into one gigantic ball, and roll out to flatten the town. Anyone reading this review could write a funny scene about the difficulties of manufacturing and operating a critter ball. What is it made out of? Does it smell? Do the local dogs have a tendency to pay it rude visits? What happens if you’re an extra who has to be crushed by the hairy ball, and you suffer from allergies? And what about the pecking order between puppeteers who operate the starring critters, and others who are relegated to the obscure critters?
I make these notes only to illustrate the bankruptcy of imagination behind Critters II. The makers of this film could not generate a single idea that was not provided for them by the makers of the original film. They went into the project with a rip-off on their mind. Since there is inevitably going to be a Critters III, I offer my story ideas free of charge to whoever is condemned to make it. If you want to dedicate the film to me, that would be nice.
Cyborg
(Directed by Albert Pyun; starring Dayle Haddon, Vincent Klyn, Jean-Claude Van Damme; 1989)