In short: Cameron’s Closet (1988)

Cameron (Scott Curtis) is a little kid with X-Men level psychokinetic powers, and has been the favourite test subject of his psychologist(?) father Owen (Tab Hunter) for quite some time. Alas, Owen did make the mistake of letting Cameron use a statuette of a Mayan “demon” which somehow allowed the thing to use Cameron as some sort of conductor into our world, where it moved into the kid’s closet. All this information, the film will explain in excruciating detail throughout its first hour or so, but everyone who isn’t a zombie (sorry, zombies!) will have figured out most of this after the film’s prologue, in which Owen’s attempt to somehow get rid of the demon – or kill Cameron? – ends in a pretty ridiculous decapitation with his own trusty machete for him.

Cameron ends up in the care of his borderline alcoholic mother (Kim Lankford) and her idiot budding child abuser boyfriend Bob (Gary Hudson). The demon soon enough burns Bob’s eyes out and throws him out of a window, which seems to be the proper way to treat the guy. Alas, this is also the point where the film slows to a crawl and spends a lot of time with intensely boring cop Sam Taliaferro (Cotter Smith), whose main claim to any interest at all is his tendency for weird dreams that do influence his on the job performance. He has to team up with police psychologist Dr Haley (Mel Harris) in this, who is of course not just the police’s child psychologist on call but also the woman he can’t open up to in his mandated sittings. You can imagine the character trajectory, and alas, so could I.

After a long, long time of Cameron being involved in little business of interest and the police bores finding out way too many details about everything the audience already knows, something may happen eventually.

Well, indeed it does, but if my subtle (cough) hints haven’t made it clear already, the main problem of Armand Mastroianni’s Cameron’s Closet is its apparent belief that it is a movie not about supernatural business involving a little kid but one about a very slow and boring police investigation conducted by a guy lacking in whit, charm and screen personality. Most of the first hour after Bob’s well deserved death is excruciating and generally pretty pointless, packing fifteen minutes of plot into forty-five, and lacking anything meant to keep an audience awake. As a director, Mastroianni doesn’t seem acquainted with the concept of mood building, and his style is the sort of bad TV movie bland many TV movies do not suffer from.

So it’s rather a huge surprise that the final act turns relatively entertaining, like a whacked out low budget version of Poltergeist, with a bit more gore and one of Carlo Rambaldi’s least convincing creations. A head or two are melted, excellently bad child acting happens right into a demon’s face, and things turn from soul-destroying boredom to stupid semi-fun.

Why, there’s even a scene of a character travelling into a cheap version of the spirit realm, Taliaferro trying to punch a demon in the face there. Given how much the rest of the film drags, that’s more than anyone could have expected of it.

Wanted: Dead or Alive (1987)

Nick Randall (Rutger Hauer), for unfathomable reasons the descendant of Steve McQueen’s character in the old TV show “Wanted: Dead or Alive”, is also working as a bounty hunter like is great-granddad (or whatever). He also has a thing for playing harmonica, badly, whenever he has reason to mope. Nick’s actually a former CIA operative, but that particular business got to unpleasant for him, especially when he worked against terrorist Malak Al Rahim (Gene Simmons). Despite being a bit of a loner, Nick has found happiness with his new girlfriend Terry (Mel Harris), and his best buddy, the cop Danny Quintz (William Russ).

Unfortunately, that happiness won’t last when Nick agrees to help out his old (and only) CIA pal Philmore Walker (Robert Guillaume) with a terrorist cell that seems to plan something big, a cell working under the recently arrived Malak Al Rahim. Now, Nick turns out to be well able to help Walker out, but unfortunately, a different old CIA acquaintance named John Lipton (Jerry Hardin, The X-Files’ Deep Throat himself) has rather different plans with Nick, which will eventually lead to various terrorist attacks that really had no need to happen at all, among other things. The film never gets around to actually explaining what Lipton thinks he’s doing beyond making Nick’s life harder as a form of vengeance.

Gary Sherman’s Wanted is a weird one, consisting of various disparate elements that never quite gel enough to become a whole but still make the film an always interesting watch. The main problem is how incongruous the film’s impulses are. On one hand – be warned, this is a film with more than just two hands – there’s the whole call-back to the old TV show that really has no function in the film apart from looking at an audience that has come for a very different film and saying “remember that?”.

On the next one, there’s the nature of the film’s bad guys, who are strictly US late 80’s action movie “Arabian” terrorists, the kind of terrorists that don’t have an actual ideology beyond being evil, and whose leader is played by rock star who can’t act and tries to get away with just not moving his face. Said rock star, to make matters really weird, is also the son of Hungarian Jewish parents. Adding another element of what the heck to this whole business is the fact that Al Rahim enters the US cosplaying as an orthodox Jew. I got nothing.

Hand number three is the way the film handles its very 80s action movie set-up – with the thoughtful slowness of 70s cinema, giving much more space to the characterisation of Nick and his family of choice than any 80s film about an action hero fighting terrorists is supposed to do. As a matter of fact, it’s this part of the film that makes watching it worthwhile, Sherman giving his actors and their characters enough room to breathe. Why, I found myself actually beginning to care about what happens to them. Consequently the entirely expected scene when Terry and Danny are killed off acquires a bit of emotional weight, particularly since Hauer plays the moment as if his character were an actual human being who has just seen the people he loves die. There’s more sadness and desperation than rage in that scene from him, and the film for a moment seems to teeter on the edge of not going the way of all 80s action films but go someplace more interesting.


Obviously, a violent rampage then follows anyway, and as all action sequences in the film, it seems to stand halfway between the way 70s cinema had approached its violence and the gung ho action style of the 80s. It’s not a great place to stand for action scenes, frankly, because it feels less than Sherman trying to split the difference between two eras but rather more as if he simply doesn’t want to commit to one.