Past Misdeeds: Alien Warrior (1986)

This is a re-run with only the slightest of edits, so please don’t ask me what the heck I was thinking when I wrote any given entry into this section.

aka KING OF THE STREETS

Okay, so, here’s a plot, such as it is: in an alien dimension peopled by men with excellent – and better – facial hair live a martial artist-philosopher-messiah-future-cult-leader guy we will come to know and (certainly not) love as Buddy (Brett Clark) and his Dad (Norman Budd). Well, actually, we never get to see anyone apart from Buddy and Dad there, but since Buddy’s supposed to become king, I can only assume he has some people to crush under the boot heels of monarchist oppression. Before Buddy (his Dad actually called him Ragnar until he realized Buddy wouldn’t make a decent Viking, or I might be making this up thanks to the intoxicating powers of Alien Warrior) can take his rightful place, he has to go somewhere to smite (alas, smiting isn’t really part of the film’s dialogue, though it’s ace – as in transcendentally stupid - otherwise) some Great Evil. And what better place for that sort of thing than the rough streets of Los Angeles circa 1985?

Once he’s beamed to LA, Buddy does show himself less shite than we thought and soon saves women from rape – specifically, angelic Lora (Pamela Saunders, I think), a woman not only imbued with the power of making the most absurd facial expressions unimaginable but also the will to bring the beauty of reading to the inner city with what we might call a community centre if it weren’t a warehouse with a random assortment of bookshelves in it. Because Buddy is a bit of a messiah (or cult leader), Lora’s reading warehouse becomes quite the success thanks to our hero’s awesome power of getting in the head of would-be rapists, finding out that their wicked ways started when their mum called them stupid once, and curing them in a way certainly not at all inspired by a certain cult founded by a SF writer who once wrote about how a good way of getting rich would be to found a religion.

Soon, graffiti artists in the place are writing awesome new slogans like “BE TEMPERATE” on walls, Buddy and a helpful homeless alcoholic build a sports car out of scrap metal, and protection money rackets are stopped by slow motion shouting. Somewhere on the way, Buddy makes an enemy, though, in form of frequently pretty much naked pimp and drug dealer Mr. One (Reggie De Morton), owner of an even better car than Buddy’s.

Oh, and he’s – not much of a surprise given his choice of career – totally evil, perhaps even the Great Evil Buddy has come to conquer? Unfortunately, Mr. One is also prepared, and has – in a series of sleazy sexual interludes – gotten a lot of dirt on all three members of LA’s police force, who are now working for him, because who wouldn’t murder so the photos of one’s dalliance with a girl with large breasts won’t fall into the wrong hands?

So, Buddy’s got his job cut out for him, or he would have, if he’d actually be any good at the conquering Great Evil bit or at being a Messiah.

On first encounter with Ed Hunt’s brilliantly bizarre Alien Warrior, the sane viewer will ask herself what exactly she has gotten herself into: perhaps an afterschool special that wants to show us how awesome cult leaders are? The film’s politics and philosophy at least support that theory, what with the rampant naivety the film shows towards the thoughts, actions, and reasons for the actions of human beings, the absurd psycho-babble Buddy sprouts at every opportune moment, bonkers moments like the one where Buddy rubs the hands of a comatose little girl against his beard to successfully revive her, and the whole thing where our expressionless lead with the emotionless voice brainwashes idiots into being good by turning them against their mums (who were right, because these guys truly are idiots). On the other hand, there’s the film’s other half, consisting of about four scenes of attempted rape, some choice gratuitous violence, more nudity than you can throw your facial locks at, and many a scene of Reggie De Morton being a bit vile and/or underdressed.

And did I mention the bad martial arts fights, the slow-motion to end all slow motions (because, where slow-motion in other films slows down actual movement, slow-motion here is mostly used to slow down shots of people not actually moving much) or the moments that concentrate on Mr. One like a very cheap, very late, and very bad blaxploitation movie? It’s a puzzling, and perhaps a little frightening, mix of incongruous elements that gives a film that is already chockfull of utterly bizarre nonsense a kick in the direction of the true classic.
Of course, Alien Warrior does carry all the other virtues of true bizarro filmmaking too. There’s the acting, with De Morton strutting around as if he owns the place (even when he’s wearing only his undies and a submachine gun, and yes, that happens too), Saunders (I hope it’s her, or I’m making fun of the wrong woman and apologize) doing things with her face human faces aren’t meant to do, and Clark giving a frighteningly effective impression of a walking-talking manikin.

Hunt’s direction is static and absurdly in love with his very special concept of slow motion. Scenes are framed in strange and awkward ways and the film’s storytelling is disjointed, jumping from one idea (I’m using the term loosely, of course) to the next without much of a logical connection. In other words, it’s brilliant, and it’s not difficult to imagine this to be a film Buddy himself has made. Which would actually explain the ending too, where Buddy, after having fucked up so completely large parts of the guys whose lives he supposedly improved are now dead, and his nemesis having been shot by one of the few survivors (who’ll spend the rest of his life in jail, probably), and leaving Lora behind with the dubious excuse that time and space are an illusion so they’ll therefore be together forever, returns home, and is congratulated by his father on his awesome skills of conquering Great Evil. Well, at least it sort of fits with Buddy’s philosophy of making peoples’ lives better by having them close their eyes and imagine everything they wish for is coming true and everything’s perfect.


Come to think of it, that philosophy is also the only way I can come up with to explain the existence of Alien Warrior, so I can’t even say the film isn’t practicing what it preaches.

On ExB: Alien Warrior (1986)

Even after aeons of inflicting the kind of film I tend to inflict on myself, these things called “movies” can still surprise me. Case in point is this film-like entity, and inexplicable – as in, I don’t want to know why - product of the stars being right.

I’ve got quite a bit to say about Alien Warrior in this week’s column over at Exploder Button, the site not afraid of submachine gun and underwear combos.

Technorati-Markierungen: american movies,reviews,other places,sf,wtf,ed hunt,brett clark,pamela saunders,reggie de morton

In short: Bloody Birthday (1981)

Three children are born during a solar eclipse (with an unfortunate conjunction of Saturn, as we will later learn) in the same US small town. This being a horror film and all, this accident of birth turns all three of them into nasty little sociopaths.

A few years later, the trio of kids (Elizabeth Hoy, Billy Jayne, Andy Freeman) begins a friendly murder spree, dispatching of random teenagers on making-out sessions, parents and people they just don't like using shovels, skateboards, pre-Home Alone evil kid handicraft powers and (yawn) a revolver. The police is unable to connect the various murders (and it sure doesn't help that the sheriff who is also one of the kid's parents is one of their first victims), so the nasty little buggers just go on and on killing.

Only Joyce Russel (Lori Lethin) and her little brother Timmy (K.C. Martel) are slowly getting suspicious, but who else would believe these angelic little dears to be brutal killers? The only thing Joyce and Timmy manage is to turn themselves into the evil trio's favourite new victims.

Ed Hunt's Bloody Birthday is a curious example of early 80s horror. Clearly meant as part of the slasher wave, the film's main claim to difference lies in its evil child trio premise. Unfortunately, that part of the movie is rather underdeveloped, with some astrological (yuck) handwaving meant to motivate a rather random killing spree that lacks any deeper connection that would make it more dramatic. Even poor Jason Voorhees has his motives, after all.

A more clever film would be able to turn exactly this randomness of the killings to its advantage; alas, Blood Birthday is not a clever film and just coasts on its not actually very transgressive killer kid transgression.

What's left are a few tight, and many more very very silly murder scenes, not very creepy acting by the child actors, a "dramatic" TV movie-like score that just never shuts up, and José Ferrer and Joe Penny in completely superfluous roles.

I think I'm sounding more nonplussed by the film than I actually am, though. There's just little about Bloody Birthday that provokes any strong reactions in me, be they positive or negative. There are boobs, there is blood, there are evil kids, and all of them are kind of okay.

 

Technorati-Markierungen: american movies,in short,horror,slasher,ed hunt,lori lethin

In short: The Brain (1988)

The regional psycho babble TV show of Dr. Blakely (David Gale) is quite a success in its area. People seem to be, well, totally hypnotized by the show and it is only a question of time until Blakely will first go national and then global. Alas, some people react rather violently to the programme and go on hallucination-driven murder and suicide sprees. Which seems fair enough to me.

Could the hypnotic effect of the most boring TV show this side of Murder She Wrote have anything to do with the hypnotic mind control rays of the giant (and growing) brain-with-a-face the psychologist keeps in a tank in his psychological institute?

When the intellectually brilliant (or so says the script) teenager Jim (Tom Bresnahan) is condemned to lose his attacks of Bart Simpson-like practical "humour" through a good old brain-washing by the good Doctor Blakely, he is soon hit by the strange after-effects of his therapy.

Only with the help of his girlfriend Janet (Cynthia Preston) will Jim find out the truth about the brain and safe mankind from mental slavery.

Ed Hunt's The Brain is a mildly diverting example of the giant, hypnotizing man-eating brain genre with a few sparks of genius and a double dose of friendly silliness.

The film's true star is of course the giant killer brain with its ridiculous (and cutely grumpy) little face and its appetite for human flesh. I couldn't help but smile blissfully whenever the MASTER used its mind-control powers on me the brain appeared on screen to look silly, hypnotize people and/or pounce on them to eat them, as every good brain should.

Unfortunately, the brain is the best actor on screen, everyone else - even an experienced mad scientist like David Gale - comes over rather flat, which of course is fits the flat way the roles are written and presented well enough. At least Gale gets to say the perfect mad scientist line of "Your mediocre mind can not begin to comprehend the importance of my work!" before the brain jumps his rebellious assistant and eats her.

The film's young heroes are of course as boring as all get out - but when weren't young heroes this way?

The Brain is the sort of popcorn movie I'll have forgotten everything about tomorrow, but it is pleasant enough to watch while it is running. Apart from the brain's excellent shenanigans, there are two scenes of teenage paranoia, a bit of gore, much running around and screaming, one skinny male chest and two breasts to see. That's perfectly acceptable to me.

 

Technorati-Tags: canadian movies,horror,in short,ed hunt,david gale