Movies I Watched in November, Part 3

Here, with just a few days left in December (and 2015, for that matter) is the final recap of the movies I watched last month...


Listen, I’ve seen a lot of strange, obscure movies. More than you, I’m guessing. A lot more. But this forgotten 1977 blacksploitation non-classic, wow. It’s something else. Filmed on virtually no budget, and starring no one you’ve ever heard of, it manages to be sleazy and heartfelt, laughably ridiculous and achingly serious all at the same time. The story starts when a renowned African-American doctor and his family move into a white Los Angeles neighborhood. Their racist neighbor is so dumbfounded by this news that she ignores reality and assumes the doctor and his wife are the chauffeur and maid of the white family who really bought the house. Matters get even uglier as racist protesters march in front of the house (a certain “n” word is heard many, many more times than it would be in a 2015 movie) and thugs attack the doctor and his family. Eventually, Abar, the leader of a motorcycle-riding black power group makes it his mission to protect the family, and even more eventually (this movie is slooooooooow), the doctor reveals his real mission: to develop superpowers in his basement lab and give them to a worthy hero. Once Abar inevitably gets those powers, the movie really gets strange. Abar becomes more like a wizard (or a god) than a superman, causing reality to change with the blink of an eye: He turns wine bottles into milk bottles, dropouts to college grads (complete with caps and gowns!) and a preacher’s new car into a horse and buggy. It makes no sense, and it’s tonally a million miles from what came before, but is it entertaining? You bet it is! And, believe it or not, “Abar” saves its craziest moment for the end, which I will now spoil for you (because, honestly, are you going to watch this movie?) Remember the white racist neighbor from the beginning? Turns out our heroic doctor discovered she actually has sickle cell anemia – meaning that she’s actually black, just like the family she hated. If that’s not a powerful statement about racial harmony, I don’t know what is. In fact, no matter what it is, I don't know what it is.

This examination of just why the much-talked-about Tim Burton/Nicolas Cage Superman movie never took flight (hardy har har) is entertaining, but probably not as quite as entertaining as it thinks it is. Writer/ Director Jon Schnepp talks with almost all the main players (except for Cage, who is glimpsed in footage of costume tests), and most of them have interesting tales to tell about what the movie might have been, but the problem is, this movie sounds TERRIBLE. I mean the concept of Superman using some sort of robotic Kryptonian babysitter to reincarnate after his mid-movie death could possibly be mildly interesting, I guess, but the look, tone and style of what Burton and Co. are proposing make the whole thing seem unwatchable. Still, it’s worth watching “The Death of Superman Lives” just to see that producer Jon Peters is just as insane as Kevin Smith keeps telling everyone he is.

As I wrote in the last post, Allie’s obsession with Harry Potter continues, and thus so does our scattershot film festival. I like these movies, but I have to admit that, as an old man whose brainpower is focused on old “Star Wars” trivia and “Kojak” supporting actors, I can’t really remember who’s in which movie and what the hell they’re up to. They’re still a lot of fun, though, and this series might have the single strongest continuing cast I’ve seen in a long time. Joining the action this time around is Imelda Staunton as Dolores Umbridge, a woman who, despite the fact that she doesn’t use much magic, manages to be a nastier villain than ol’ Voldemort himself, mostly because she’s the sort of awful, frustrating, powerful person you’d actually encounter in the real world. She’s defeated a little too easily at the end of the movie, but I have to admit, it sure is satisfying when she gets hers.



I re-watched this Billy Wilder classic for an episode of Out of Theaters ( listen here ), and if I wasn’t sure before, this umpteenth viewing confirmed it: “The Apartment” is one of my absolute favorite movies, maybe (depending on when you ask me) my single favorite movie of all time. There’s nothing about it I don’t love: The early ‘60s Manhattan setting, which was a colossal influence on “Mad Men.” The gorgeous cinematography and art direction (by Joseph LaShelle and Alexander Trauner, respectively). The three leads – Jack Lemmon, Shirley MacLaine and Fred MacMurray – all of whom deliver career-best performances (well, MacMurray may be better in Wilder’s “Double Indemnity,” but it’s a close call.) The supporting cast, which is dead-solid perfect down to the smallest role. The score (by Adolph Deutsch) which knows when to calm down and knows when to swell gloriously (like, for instance, during Fran’s run back to the titular apartment). And, most of all, the script by Wilder and I.A.L. Diamond, which ranks among the finest ever written, combining sharp comedy with serious drama and genuine sentiment. What’s more, it’s a structural marvel, setting up its plot perfectly and dropping characters in just when it makes sense. Wilder and Diamond also pack it with little side-gags and touches that manage to make “The Apartment” a richer experience without ever being distracting. The next time you watch this movie (and might I suggest giving it another look – or, God forbid, your first look – during this holiday season), keep an eye on the following elements: Fran’s makeup mirror, Baxter’s apartment key, Baxter’s “young executive model” derby and one of the bottles of champagne that’s dropped off near the end of the movie. All of them help drive the plot, and all of them become something else (and something more important) as the film nears its climax. I didn’t notice that sort of thing the first time, but “The Apartment” is definitely one of those movies that rewards repeat viewings. Personally, I can’t wait to watch it again.

Alternately amusing and terrifying, this 2006 doc follows a group of children as they attend Kids on Fire, a camp run by Becky Fischer, an evangelical teacher who also manages to be both amusing and terrifying herself as she cheerfully describes how she and her staff keep their youthful charges from even sticking a single toe off the path of godliness. It's all appalling, of course, but the kids have been brainwashed since birth, so they're perfectly happy -- joyful, even -- to spend their summer being driven to tears by adults berating them for doing things any normal kid does. Even when they sit around in the bunks after lights out and try to amuse each other by telling an ancient camp ghost story, some soft-spoken killjoy steps in and tells them Jesus doesn't like ghost stories. Except his own, of course. Definitely worth watching, and it gets even more unnerving when you realize this kids in this movie are now old enough to .... vote. Now that's a scary story!