MOVIES I STAYED UP LATE FOR: GRIZZLY

 

GRIZZLY

 

It's no secret that this movie is a blatant rip off of the "Jaws" formula, so I'm gonna get the hows out of the way right off the bat.

Locale: A State forest in the West, subbing for Amity Beach, is being ravaged by an unusually aggressive Grizzly bear, and is on brink of being closed down for the busiest holiday time of the year. Needless to say, the Superintendent is not thrilled. This is damn near plagiarism so far.

Hero: The Park Ranger (Christopher George, a low rent Roy Scheider, having all the snark and none of the subtlety, blame the script) who happens to be sick of being muscled by the bureaucrats, is bent on stopping the horrific bear killings.

Grizzled Naturalist: Although, unlike Hooper of "Jaws", he's not a rich kid with lots of high-tech toys, he's (much like Hooper) a freakin' weirdo. This particular goofball lays around in strange woodland disguises trying to record information on the local wildlife.  Hello, Richard Jaeckel. 

Pilot with war stories: Andrew Prine (yes, the future nighttime soap heartthrob) plays a helicopter pilot who assists in the search for the bear.  He even spins an apparently ad-libbed campfire-side yarn about Vietnam bloodbaths, paling hugely in comparison to Robert Shaw's lengthy (and also reportedly ad-libbed) and masterful USS Indianapolis monologue in "Jaws".

There is NO attempt at a replacement for "Farewell and Adieu, my wee Spanish Ladies"

However, the exploding while rampaging creature is replaced.

The whys. To make money. "Grizzly" was the highest grossing independent film of it's year, which I believe was 1976. A surprising amount of blood for a PG-rated movie makes the movie still maintain  occasional shock value, but the FX are terrible, and some of the acting, at least from the extras, is even worse. There is lots of nice scenery though.  The location work is peerless.  Enjoy the gorgeous woodland locales while wincing about the rest of the film.

I stayed up late for this one many times. Therefore it qualifies as a true crap classic.

Incidentally, a sequel was somehow made, which finished principal photography, and a workprint even exists off and on on the interwebs. It features a young Charlie Sheen and George Clooney, and was entitled "Grizzy II: The Concert".

I wonder why it was never released with that amazing set-up.

MOVIES I STAYED UP LATE FOR: WHITE LIGHTNING

 

 

WHITE LIGHTNING

Bogan County, Arkansas is a terrible place. It's hot, it's sticky, and it's run by a murderous sherriff. The locals spend a lot of time transporting illegal alcohol, or as they put it, "runnin' licka". So much of this lawless liquor manufacture and transport takes place apparently, that Bobby "Gator" McCluskey (Burt Reynolds) has made himself an arrangement with the feds. Said arrangement is a deal to get out of prison a year early to go undercover, and while he's at it,  avenge the murder of his baby brother Donny at the hands of the affore-mentioned crooked sherriff, JC Connors.

Can I get an amen?

This movie represents a high water mark in the career of Burt Reynolds, who plays the lead, Gator, with verve. "White Lightning" is just after "Deliverance" and right before "The Longest Yard", and well before "Smokey & the Bandit" and the careeer derail that followed shortly after. In Burt's canon, his career at this point was, artistically at least, at its absolute peak, in my opionion. Reynolds is subtle here, pefectly selling his grief over the loss of his brother, but growing a dull cold behind his eyes when it comes to dealing with the sherriff. He is surprisingly effective in just using facial expressions in this film. For example, in a nicely done moment, shortly after his prison release, he gradually unwinds as he discards his tie and suitcoat while simultaneously pressing ever so much harder on the accelerator of his hyper-tuned 1971 Ford Ltd. You can see the stress lift as the pedal goes down. 

Director Joseph Sargent keeps things brisk, yet tense, with the help of a solid score by Charles Bernstein. The soundtrack veers between schticky banjo jams augmented with jew's harp during the extended car chase scenes, to a downright diabolical sounding blues slide guitar in the movie's heavier moments. As a kid, I would play these tunes in my head while recreating the car chases using matchbox cars. Ah, the whimsy of childhood. All nostalgia aside, the score is great, pulling off being jolly whimsical, and at the right moments, damned ominous.

Sargent also surrounds Reynolds with a fine supporting cast of character actors such as Matt Clark, Bo Hopkins, and the legendary RG Armstrong. Burt is reunited with his "Deliverance" co-star Ned Beatty as the crooked sherriff, JC Connors. (In one scene, Gator references "Deliverance". When he's asked by a young woman what happened to him to cause the bandages covering half of his face, he replies "I was hurt trying to save two of my buddies from being knocked up by a homosexual." He is of course lampooning that obviously nightmarish sequence from John Boorman's classic thriller.)
Beatty manages to pull off the difficult combination of sinister, intelligent, and good ol boy sarcastic all at once. The heated tension in the scenes involving both Beatty and Reynolds is palpable. So palpable, you'd almost believe there was a personal grievance between the two in real life.

The only true weakness to me is Jennifer Billingsley in the female lead role, as she's not a particularly strong actress here, and comes off as more annoying and painfully dumb than anything else.

"White Lightning" has a definite southern feel, as it was shot on location in Arkansas. It comes across like a piece of rebel Americana as everybody appears to be coated in a layer of perspiration and living in a haze of humidity. It looks every bit like the deep south it was shot in.

This is little more than a cult film now, (one of Quentin Tarantino's faves, he even lifted one of Gators lines, "I'm only afraid of two things: women and the police", to which he gave no credit, in an interview with Jay Leno, as well as passages of the score used later by Quentin in "Kill Bill" and "Inglourious Basterds".   It was cause for celebration on those late 70's summer nightson TV 18 WVTV in Milwaukee, or WFLD 32 out of Chicago. My Dad would pop a quarter ton of popcorn, bust out the Sparco soda bottles,  and it was "White Lightning" time.


Watch for further "Stay up Lates" inspired by my late Pops, "Vanishing Point" & "Freebie & The Bean", as well as "Bedrock for relationship" flicks hearkening back to my early days with my Stepdad, "Silent Rage" &  "The Lords of Discipline".

MOVIES I STAYED UP LATE FOR:BILLY JACK

This piece is dedicated to the memory of Milwaukee's own Tom Laughlin who died in December of cancer at age 82.  He wrote, directed and starred in "Billy Jack" and it's subsequent films, and proved that you could head out west with little more than a belief system and launch a franchise. 

This one is a pure classic in almost every sense of the Late Night word. In the later 70's and early 80's this one was constantly being aired on UHF, VHF, monthly pay, and some sporadic signals being picked up from other solar systems. I saw it many times, one because I was so heavily exposed to it, between repeat broadcasts, and two because my siblings dug it so much. 

But why did I love it so much in my pre-adolescent mind? It wasn't the political messaging, which was hamfisted, because I wasn't ready for that yet. It wasn't the special effects, because there were none. It wasn't completely the martial arts scenes, though that helped. 

It was the bullying.

As a kid I attended several elementary schools, one parochial, and it seemed like someone was always geared up to knock me off whatever good mood I may have been fortunate enough to wake up in that day. It got to the point of ridiculousness, and made me not want to go to school some days. Now I know being bullied is nothing new to many, but maybe that's why "Billy Jack" was so big with a lot of folks, not just the political views subscribed to by "dirty hippies" that were so much of the film's focus.

Billy Jack was the voice of pent up outrage at those who feel they are in control, and have to force that fact down the throats of everybody else. Tom Laughlin played Billy as a half-breed green beret Vietnam vet who wanders his Arizona locales becoming one with various natures, and protected the put-upon refugees from everyday life that comprise the student body of the "Freedom School", which is operated by Billy's friend, Jean. A local land baron, Posner, rapes the natural resources of the countryside for profit, while his spoiled rich son rapes  the women of "Freedom School". It's a recipe for disaster.

It's Billy as vigilante that was the selling point for me. For a character that has the ultimate goal of peace for all mankind however, he does spend more than enough time whipping ass. As a bullied kid, that appealed to me. I was sold the moment Billy lands that vicious reverse crescent kick (terminology gleaned myself from two years of Tae Kwon Do study) to the smirking jowl of Mr. Posner, and leaves him laying in the grass of the town square, an embarassed, beaten (and fat) soul.

The film however lingers far too much on the school and it's inhabitants, and those sequences can seem to drag on forever.  Despite the presence of a young Howard Hesseman (looking a lot like Foghat's "Lonesome Dave" Peverett,  It doesn't help the story. "Billy Jack" himself as a character wasn't what it could have been, either. He could have been more a sledgehammer than a ball peen variety.  I'm not saying Laughlin had to engage in a kung fu battle every 8 minutes, but the run time overall could have been trimmed to streamline the film into a more flowing narrative, giving it a brisker pace. The characterizations are there, but it seems like experimentation at times. 

Nevertheless, a legend was born with the unexpected box office success and public endearment for the character, and there is a heavy nostalgia factor in it for me, as it is a leader in the MISULF (Movies I Stayed Up Late For) lexicon. It makes the Late Night Hall of fame. It's many flaws aside, I still have warm feelings for "Billy Jack".

Thanks to my sister Linda, for staying up with me to watch it.

True Detective: Existential Crime Drama? The McConnaisance continues.....

As it progressed,  the Matthew McConaughey/Woody Harrelson show “True Detective” posed a horrifying question that has danced lightly across my subconscious before, albeit briefly…..

McConaughey posited the theory that during evolution we, as homo sapiens, became accidentally self-aware, and saw ourselves as more important than we are…..

Yes, his character saw us humans as unintentionally programmed beyond mere survival instinct,  yet no more necessary than “the animals” we feed in pet dishes or consume at fast food joints.  Just painfully and with futility nursing the frustrating impression that we are, umm...

"playing out the string" as George Carlin depressingly put it in the prologue to his first book.

Is life like they taught us in Sunday School?  

Is there a loving god looking down on us throwing us waves of warming light and reinforcing love, keeping us safe and guiding us toward a path of true enlightenment & happiness, where we’ll find that soulmate that is also wandering the Earth seeking the same things as we are?   Inevitably children will follow, career goals may be met, then retirement, then Florida?

Is life Hello Kitty, the Everly Brothers, and the Care Bears?

Or are emotions simply secreted brain chemicals? Is love merely Dopamine, anger adrenaline, and lust a combination of them both?  Are Earth and our species simply a winning lottery ticket in a universe large enough to host the odds, and can easily be flippantly wiped out with a random passing comet?

 Or is there an even worse case scenario that can be tossed upon us with no malice or ambivalence from anyone?  Could our planet be damaged irreparably, reducing us to the apocalyptic survival monsters in Cormac McCarthy’s “The Road” through the folly of man’s warfare or by a volcanic eruption that’s decided the credit on our borrowed time account has come past due?  No supreme being stopping this with his love, or creating it with his wrath? Is it all merely random happenstance in an outer space too large for me to fathom?

Could the universe be ignoring our little terrarium by the Sun flashing out in a microscopic apocalypse because 99.9% of it wasn’t even aware it was happening?

The former is nicer.  The former is what I can cope with.  The latter is something I thank whoever may be out there that I’m glad I’m not quite smart enough to wrap my head around.

And yes, Matthew McConaughey got me thinking like that.

 

Before you think McConaughey's character is necessarily preaching to the converted, I submit this:

My two cents on Richard Sherman

Okay, let's get this out of the way. Richard Sherman is a smart man and the best corner in the league.

Good. I feel better now.

He's still an ass, and here's why:

 The reason he blew a gasket on national television is because, and he stated it in his pants-crapping, Napoleon Complex-fueled tirade on Erin Andrews, he was insulted because Michael Crabtree was talking about him.

Excuse me, sir Richard......but isn't that what you do?  Talk crap. Every day?  Incessantly?  To the point of nausea?  Insulting people online, in the national media and on the football field. Constantly?  Which is fine, I have no problem with trash talk.  It's part of the game, but for a true purveyor of the craft, and some may say a master, you seemed a wee bit hypocritical getting all jacked up for Crabtree doing likewise.

Some may call it, in the era of the web, butthurt. 

But there are those that tout Mr. Sherman and not only forgive, but endorse his yammering because of his humble beginnings, coming Straight Outta Compton, getting into Stanford, and then the NFL, eventually becoming the best at a very difficult position. He deserves credit, yes.  

But, there are tons of poor kids who get into the NFL and shine their stars who don't draw this kind of WWE "I'm the best!" attention to themselves constantly.  Look at Donald Driver.  Poor kid from Houston, who sold drugs, once lived in a U-Haul, 7th Round Choice out of tiny Alcorn State, and became the Packers all time leading receiver, Super Bowl champ, Dancing With the Stars winner, and never lost his humility in the process.  

He surely never took the attention off of his teammates at the apex of their success like Sherman did as soon as the final second ticked off the damn clock. 

And those on line and in print who act like he is some spokesman for all that's right (or wrong) in America just make me laugh. Canonizing someone because of their mouth?  Please don't get started on the race card. It's insulting to everybody.

And don't you dare compare him to Muhammad Ali. Yeah, he was the greatest, and said so. But what truly made Ali the greatest was what he said and did AFTER he said so. 

I Could Have Written That: Part 2

5. "Crocodile Rock" "Bennie & The Jets"
Now I'm quite sure Elton John is a gifted songwriter, and I am willing to give credit to great talents, even if their material doesn't appeal to me. Prince, Slayer, and Muse all fit into the category of critically acclaimed and very talented artists that make me want to slam my head into a wall.  I have liked much of Reginald Dwight's material over they years, but the whining, grating choruses of these two songs make me bray them mockingly in a screeching tone at the unfair blood-soaked skies of the heavens above in exasperation and rage whenever I hear them. Not so much out of annoyance, but out of anger at the fact that these two tornado warnings of songs got not only recorded, but became hits.

4. "Who Let The Dogs Out?"
 Really?  This was popular?  And it became part of the lexicon. I don't even want to know why....

3. "The Harlem Shake"
This current craze is beyond annoying. It's stupefying.  It's not just the song, it's the abberant spasms it apparently causes it fans to break into. Including world-renowned basketball star Lebron James seen below. My youngest son and I were looking at this on a television at a local Pizza joint, both of us perplexed...."Is that guy dressed as Mario, Rob?", he asked quizzically...

"Yes, C.". I responded.  "Yes, he is...."

because I had nothing else to say....

Many songs, including the affore-mentioned "Gangnam Style" and "Cupid Shuffle", as irritating and unacceptable as they are, had some sort of an attempt at a dance....this just looks like a standing, lucid seizure....like Donald Sutherland at the end of 1978's "Invasion of the Body Snatchers", it just gives me the willies.  Or the Jeebs. Take your pick.

here it is.



 May God have mercy on our souls.

The last two are coming soon. I'm too exasperated by this at the moment, to finish.

The 70's: Sick Was Better Than "The Cure"

Nowadays, some kids embrace being ill. A chance to lie in bed, sleep late, hang out on the couch in front of Disney XD, or XL or XFL or whatever.... so many options with all the electronic handheld gizmos available. I'm not saying kids didn't pull that crap in my day.

 Most of us are familiar with Ferris Bueller's "cold and clammy hands", Elliot from E.T.'s "thermometer in the lightbulb" trick, or you could just plain make it sound like you were congested, which worked best if you had a hyper-sensitive, or overly fearful mom. You had to be careful what you wished for, however. My own kids complain about the taste of OTC meds and cough syrups....and my wife and I try to tell them:

"You have no idea."

 Does anyone remember the toxic sludges and gritty concoctions and snake oils of our youth?:

  

 Now I do remember this stuff having a D tacked onto the end of it's name....as if that gave it a military grade toughness that promised to kick your cold's ass, or maybe it was just "next level" Formula 44, for those heightened circumstances

...like maybe you had Ebola or something...

or just felt like whining like the insipid, crying whelp in this video, oddly an adult...

 Vicks Formula 44D....for the oncoming apocalyptic supercold...Stay Ready. Contact the CDC.

What about Aspergum??

Really? A gum, Mom? For my sore throat!!  Wow! It's Orange, too?  Great Lucifer's knee-pads!

Oh, God, it was awful.... and it did abso-freakin' lutely nothing for your throat...

Not one iota...

I swear that even those false-prophet, nothing but candy, Smith Brothers cough drops did more for that scratchy windpipe, if only by making you smile because they tasted so damn good. Aspergum were disgusting, not even remotely tasty enough to give you a placebo effect...Can't believe this trash made it past the testing phase....

Bayer’s Children’s Chewable Aspirin 

I don't know what flavor these children's aspirin were, some quasi-orange, maybe?

....oh, right, that's it,..."BAD", they were "BAD flavored".

... and as if the taste wasn't enough, they kicked up a funky dust in your mouth that blew down your throat and gave you a strange powdered sugar cough (just in case your other symptoms were lonely, and you hadn't developed a cough yet, St. Joe's or Bayer children was there for you.), and once again, relieved no symptoms. I don't think it even lowered a fever....

Sucrets. 

Wow. The varied flavors were all bad in Sucrets. Horrible.
So you have to sell it somehow. You can almost hear some mad scientist marketing exec throwing the ideas out there: "If we put them in a tin, kids will think they're cool and can carry them around. Mom's will want them to put buttons and pins and shit in. Plus, if we individually wrap this crap, it gives it an air of class. Like Twinkies or Hot Pockets."

Too bad nobody thought to put something of medicinal value in there.

So, my point is OTC meds have advanced exponentially since I was a kid. There's Theraflu, NyQuil, Mucinex....and while not outright cures, the products do greatly relieve the symptoms. And the taste of today's items, while not gourmet finger sandwiches, is infinitely better than the stuff back in the day of "Super Friends", Underoos, and Colorforms.

 I would have rather gone to school than take that crap.