Issue #16/71, August 12 - 26, 1999  

By Krazy Kino Kevin McElwee

Star Wars Episode 1 is now phantomly menacing its way into a third exciting week, but thanks to a much needed vacation I still haven't caught the unadulterated English version. A few notes, however, for those thinking of checking out the Russian dubbed version that accounts for most of the film's Moscow screen time. For one thing, this is a pro dubbing job all the way, one of the few I can give a recommendation to. Particularly for those familiar with the ethnic accents used in the English version, the vocal performances by the various Russian actors here provide a nicely amusing counterpoint. The Yeltsin Kukly voice is used to especially good effect for the Trade Federation goons. And yes, Jar Jar Binks's grammatically challenged pidgin blathering is every bit as annoying as the original performance is purported to be. To go into any further detail seems all but pointless; besides, if "Sleepy" Floyd's psychotic MT Out review (for which he was finally handed his walking papers, apparently) didn't prepare you for Lucas's cinematic vision, there's nothing more I can teach you.

In other, less hotly awaited new release news, we have Wrongfully Accused, the latest in a seemingly endless line of Pat Proft scripted one-joke parody flicks starring Leslie Nielsen. The only notable thing about this one is that it marks Proft's directing debut. You sort of want to feel good for the guy, especially since he wrote the script for the brilliant Real Genius, but he has also been responsible for Police Academy and at least a dozen other, worse movies in the decade and a half since. His sophomore directing effort, incidentally, will be some kind of Titanic Too farce--which could only possibly be good if they got Mark Hamill to play the Di Caprio role. This will never happen, obviously.

Actually, there is one other notable thing about Wrongfully Accused: inasmuch as its main source is The Fugitive, it's even more outdated than these films usually are--which I guess you have to sort of admire in some less than inspiring way. Otherwise, it's just the usual unimaginative sight gags, washed up, self-parodying leading man in a supporting role (Richard Crenna), mediocre former sex symbol (Kelly Le Brock), and Leslie Nielsen parading around half naked that should have all but the most incontinent asylum dwellers screaming for their medication. It's all well and good that Nielsen has been "blessed" with this unexpected second career in movies and all, but it'd be a lot nicer if the general public didn't have to be involved. And the fact that Hollywood studios still find it financially feasible to churn out about two of these fiascoes a year is just one of a thousand reasons why I simply cannot countenance the idea of ever moving back to the old US of A.

Now here's something unusual: the first Kino Korner kause for half-hearted cheer in what seems like months. While it is not quite possible to characterize The Faculty as a good movie, it nevertheless has an unexceptionably positive ideological message--namely, that amphetamines are the key to humankind's salvation. Pro-speed movies such as this are indeed rare, but considering the similar message contained in last year's Zero Effect, perhaps there are some much-needed changes in store for the United States'

Get those kids some speed!

tragically wrongheaded drug policies. Considering that the homemade meth-type diuretic in The Faculty is both the test that separates the real humans from the already body-snatched and the secret weapon used by the teen outcast heroes to destroy the alien interlopers, I know I'm sure starting to feel pretty optimistic about this next millennium all the sudden.

Nevertheless, when we inevitably come back down from the heights of narco-political progressivism to mundane cinematic realities, there's still no ignoring the fact that this is just another Kevin Williamson (Scream, I Know What You Did Last Summer) scripted, self-referential meta-teen slasher job. Williamson is still turning that one trick of his (still less subtly, even; in particular, the running Invasion of the Body Snatchers commentary/updates become shotgun-in-the-mouth tedious after about five minutes), and Robert Rodriguez has nothing new to offer as director. At least Antonio Banderas isn't involved, though.

Like pretty much every movie in this genre except perhaps the original Scream, there's no real suspense, no real way to root for the pawnlike heroes without feeling like a total sap. This is in spite of the somewhat intriguing Breakfast Club adolescence microcosm that's injected and even a couple of somewhat likable characters--particularly Zeke, the neo-Benderian speed entrepreneur. In the plus column, there's also a pretty kick-ass bad guy in Terminator 2's Robert Patrick (whose character unfortunately all but drops out of the film's second half) and a next-generation Alien-type monster whose constant Protean shape-shifting is rendered with the kind of highly professional, but understated digital effects that ought to be the rule rather than the exception. Come to think of it, I was pretty positively disposed toward most of the supporting cast, particularly the various secondary alien-infested teachers (excepting Jon Stewart, a pretty significant mitigating factor actually) who were all more or less suitably creepy in largely thankless roles.

Still, there's no hiding from the fact that none of this matters very much one way or another. Speed or no speed, when such a barely above-mediocre movie as this qualifies as good news, there is no cause for joy in Mudville. Oh well, whatever, the mind--any mind--is indeed a terrible thing. And it is the middle of August after all.

Oh yeah, and one more thing... happy birthday, mom.