DOA dead or alive Tagged Articles at Cinematical

Iron Man opens this week, and thus the summer movie season has officially arrived. I love a good summer movie as much a the next guy, but this morning I found myself looking back at some of the little films that cropped up during the summer; some of them managed to get a "summer" feel on a much lower budget and without all the advertisement and hype. My absolute favorite summer art house movie has to be Tom Tykwer's Run Lola Run (1999). I saw it three times that summer, and each time I clutched my seat, my heart pounding. I was amazed at how brilliantly Tywker had mapped out his three possible storylines and how lovely the small, quiet interludes were. I loved Franka Potente, and I loved his throbbing score, which practically entered into your bloodstream and pumped up your adrenaline by hand. Every color, movement and cut was designed for maximum effect (I've always been puzzled how Tykwer's movies since have seemed so long and sluggish.)

Also that same summer, John Sayles delivered his baffling adventure/suspense film Limbo, which had several people trapped on an island awaiting rescue and stalked by bad guys. The ending had everybody in an uproar and caused the film to die a quick death. The summer before that one, Darren Aronofsky's debut feature Pi gave me a good dose of sci-fi thrills, as well as a few head-scratching puzzles (which were actually real). 2000 was a particularly bad summer, but John Waters' Cecil B. DeMented provided a mischievous little oasis in the middle of it all. In that film, renegade filmmakers kidnap a Hollywood starlet and force her to be in their indie production; each team member has a tattoo of a maverick filmmaker's name. (I've often wondered which filmmaker's name I would pick for a tattoo? Maybe David Cronenberg...)

I just got back from a brief Christmas holiday to the distant land of relatives and limited Internet access, so my column is just a tad late this week. Nevertheless, I'd like to pick up where I left off last week, in my celebration of those smaller films that lost their way in 2007, either misunderstood, or misjudged, or just never found.

I saw Hal Hartley's Fay Grim in May as part of the San Francisco International Film Festival. It was a sequel to his 1998 film Henry Fool and it had one of those strange near-simultaneous releases in which it debuted on DVD just a few days after it opened in theaters. This technique didn't work at all for Steven Soderbergh's superb Bubble last year, so I can't imagine why anyone would try it again. I found Henry Fool too long with too much navel gazing to be of interest, but somehow Fay Grim worked for me. I felt it was all a huge, deadpan joke that these pathetic writer-types would now be involved in international intrigue. And who is better for a deadpan joke than Jeff Goldblum, with his glaring eyes and sharp delivery?

Back when Pulp Fiction came out, Quentin Tarantino began publishing lists of his favorite movies in various interviews. To a film buff, these were something of a small revelation. Tarantino had not been so much influenced by the usual Citizen Kane or Hitchcock as he was by a plethora of semi-forgotten, underappreciated trash movies. Suddenly movies like Brian De Palma's Blow Out (1981), Jack Hill's Coffy (1973) and Jim McBride's remake of Breathless (1983) gained in respectability; they had influenced a new American classic, and so there must be hidden greatness within their second-rate frames. Likewise, Tarantino helped breathe new life into already established classics like Howard Hawks' His Girl Friday (1940) and Jean-Luc Godard's Band of Outsiders (1964). He created a film-buff smorgasbord.

Flash forward 13 years to 2007. Tarantino has a new movie out, the bottom half of Grindhouse, in which he sings the praises of a cult road movie called Vanishing Point (1971) among other titles. And yet, for some reason, I had absolutely no urge to rent that movie when Grindhouse had finished up. Perhaps it's because Tarantino's passion had turned into something a little more dutiful. Rather, my cinematic slaverings had turned elsewhere, to a relative newcomer that had been recently initiated into the Tarantino camp with the inclusion of his Grindhouse trailer: Edgar Wright. His exciting, hilarious, and enthusiastic Hot Fuzz (164 screens) had got me thinking about the veiled merits of its buddy cop double bill: Kathryn Bigelow's Point Break (1991) and Michael Bay's Bad Boys II (2003).

Those gore-lovin' knuckleheads over at Bloody-Disgusting.com spent a few days on the set of Resident Evil: Extinction (surrounded by women like Milla Jovovich, Sienna Guillory and Ali Larter, those lucky bastards) and while they haven't come back with their full set report (which, frankly, doesn't even interest me all that much), they've gleaned a few choice nuggets from the cast and crew members.

Oded Fehr will be returning for RE3, and he dropped a vague little tidbit regarding a certain looming sequel: "From what I know ... they're writing one that's totally different, in a different time. Brendan (Fraser) and Rachel (Weisz) are in it." Hmph. The Mummy Returns Again? We'll see.

Stopping by to chat with Ms. Larter, the BD.com boys learned that she will not be reprising her role in the upcoming sequel to House on Haunted Hill -- even though she signed on to star in the second sequel to Resident Evil. Oh well, moving on, the gorehounds hit the mother lode when they sat down to chat with producer Jeremy Bolt, a guy who's made a lot of movies with the fanboy-controversial Paul W.S. Anderson. (Anderson directed Mortal Kombat, Event Horizon, Soldier, Resident Evil, and Alien vs. Predator, if you must know.) The partners' next project will be a "less parody, more reality TV" remake of Death Race 2000, an NES-to-celluloid rendition of Castlevania, and a sequel to this movie, which looks so sinfully bad that I can't wait to see it.