Whatever it is, it appears to be a genetic aberration.

Leviathan

(1989)

(SPOILERS) Two films called Leviathan revolving around the ill-effects of vodka, and which do you think is superior: the Russian social commentary/ political critique or the waterlogged George Pan Cosmatos rip-off of Alien/ The Thing? The latter is so unmemorable, I wasn’t even certain that I’d seen it before. Compounding this is how very familiar it feels. A pungent déjà vu lingers throughout, as the post-Alien tropes are lined up and ticked off but never in an interesting or remotely stylish manner.

David Webb Peoples’ (Blade Runner, Unforgiven, Twelve Monkeys) name is on the screenplay, asked for Alien underwater by the studio, but failing to delivering a screenplay that was quite Alien enough, which is why Jeb Stuart rewrote it. Possibly the presence of Cosmatos (Cobra, and the nominal director of Tombstone, though Kurt Russell was really calling the shots) incapacitates any positives in the script. Certainly, while the creature work isn’t Stan “Aliens” Winston’s best, the director has absolutely no idea of how to make the most of it, and Jerry “Alien” Goldsmith is unable to ring any atmosphere from the dripping sets. Additionally, in stark contrast to the bruising realism of James Cameron’s sub-aqua yarn of the same year The Abyss – Deepstar Six being the low budget third in a 1989 trio of underwater science fiction movies – Cosmatos could barely be bothered to take the plunge; it’s all-too obvious that he’s mostly opted for simulated underwater look (to be fair, Alex Thomson’s cinematography is solid in the main, but it’s a lost cause).

If one is so inclined, one can pass the time ticking off the genre clichés, which include Machiavellian corporate manoeuvring (“This company’s commitment is to the almighty dollar”) under the aegis of alien-eyed Meg Foster, keeping the crew of the Tri Oceanic Mining Corporation, with only a few days left in their 90-day shift, down below with the monster (it’s implied the company knew about it in advance, just like Alien). Which, we learn, is a genetic aberration. “No shit!” exclaims Ernie Hudson’s Justin Jones on learning this detail. Hudson also gets a line almost worthy of LL Cool J in Deep Blue Sea when, having surfaced, they hit more problems; “Sharks! Talk about having a bad day”. It’s a line only topped by “Gone? Bitch we’re still here!” in response to Foster’s “I realise you must have gone through hell”. None of which gives Ernie a free pass to the end credits, though.

The crew of Russian vessel Leviathan were subject to an unbeknownst experiment with a mutagen laced in their vodka, and there’s even a Thing-esque scene where Richard Crenna’s doctor views a computer simulation of the virus’ progress, the crew having already investigated a Thing-esque wreck with no survivors. Before long it’s necessary to break out the Thing and Alien-esque flamethrowers, always to hand in case of an aberrant freak, even deep down on the seabed.

Like Alien, the creature changes in form. Like The Thing it retains semblances of its victims (some of whom we assume are dead, but of course aren’t) and absorbs their intelligence (about the only aspect that isn’t derivative is victims remaining conscious as part of the creature, Michael Carmine’s DeJesus pleading for help). Occasionally Winston hits the mark in a Rob Bottin, kind of gross, way, but too often the creature amounts to a sub-Alien thing slithering through vents, or an unconvincing giant rubber fish thing. There’s even a chest-burster scene and a body part with teeth that isn’t a mouth. Most mirthfully, crewmember Sixpack’s leg escapes at one point and swims off.

And in the realm of brazen copying, Amanda Pays strips down to her skimpies, just like Sigourney. During the opening stages, there’s the occasional moment suggesting a better Peoples script that was thrown out; Peter Weller’s Beck rehearses extracts from The One-Minute Manager in an attempt to keep control of his disrespectful crew. But, mainly, this is a B-movie cast (Hector Elizondo, Daniel Stern is Sixpack, Richard Crenna, who worked with Cosmatos on Rambo: First Blood Part II, is the doctor; they go dutifully through their paces, but they’re all fully aware this isn’t going to be anything special) with B-movie dialogue (“Say ‘Ahhhh’, motherfucker!”, offers Beck, nursing the strange belief that blowing the creature up might put an end to its reign of terror; he then punches out Foster) and B-movie motivation (all are devoid of common-sense, in common with such movies but accentuated here, be it attempting to conceal the death of Sixpack or repeatedly straying near infected cremates).

Quite why Search and Rescue is still about when Foster has issued a press release announcing the death of the crew is beyond me, but then so little here follows rhyme or reason, including the survivors’ miraculous ability to decompress superfast thanks to a red light announcing “Decompression” (earlier, a skull and crossbones signals oxygen depletion, which is a bit indelicate). Cosmatos has zero grasp of suspense or terror, meaning everything happens in a noisy, careless and/or gory manner, which is fairly of-a-piece with his career. Leviathan arrived at the opposite end of a decade that began with numerous cheap and shoddy Alien imitators, but managed to learn nothing in the meantime.

Your Mickey Mouse is one big stupid dope!

Enemy Mine (1985) (SPOILERS) The essential dynamic of Enemy Mine – sworn enemies overcome their differences to become firm friends – was a well-ploughed one when it was made, such that it led to TV Tropes assuming, since edited, that it took its title from an existing phrase (Barry Longyear, author of the 1979 novella, made it up, inspired by the 1961 David Niven film The Best of Enemies ). The Film Yearbook Volume 5 opined that that Wolfgang Petersen’s picture “ lacks the gritty sauciness of Hell in the Pacific”; John Boorman’s WWII film stranded Lee Marvin and Toshiro Mifune on a desert island and had them first duking it out before becoming reluctant bedfellows. Perhaps germanely, both movies were box office flops.

If I do nothing else, I will convince them that Herbert Stempel knows what won the goddam Academy Award for Best goddam Picture of 1955. That’s what I’m going to accomplish.

Quiz Show (1994) (SPOILERS) Quiz Show perfectly encapsulates a certain brand of Best Picture nominee: the staid, respectable, diligent historical episode, a morality tale in response to which the Academy can nod their heads approvingly and discerningly, feeding as it does their own vainglorious self-image about how times and attitudes have changed, in part thanks to their own virtuousness. Robert Redford’s film about the 1950s Twenty-One quiz show scandals is immaculately made, boasts a notable cast and is guided by a strong screenplay from Paul Attanasio (who, on television, had just created the seminal Homicide: Life on the Streets ), but it lacks that something extra that pushes it into truly memorable territory.

Other monks will meet their deaths here. And they too will have blackened fingers. And blackened tongues.

The Name of the Rose (1986) (SPOILERS) Umberto Eco wasn’t awfully impressed by Jean Jacques-Annaud’s adaptation of his novel – or “ palimpsest of Umberto Eco’s novel ” as the opening titles announce – to the extent that he nixed further movie versions of his work. Later, he amended that view, calling it “ a nice movie ”. He also, for balance, labelled The Name of the Rose his worst novel – “ I hate this book and I hope you hate it too ”. Essentially, he was begrudging its renown at the expense of his later “ superior ” novels. I didn’t hate the novel, although I do prefer the movie, probably because I saw it first and it was everything I wanted from a medieval Sherlock Holmes movie set in a monastery and devoted to forbidden books, knowledge and opinions.

Say hello to the Scream Extractor.

Monsters, Inc. (2001) (SPOILERS) I was never the greatest fan of Monsters, Inc. , even before charges began to be levelled regarding its “true” subtext. I didn’t much care for the characters, and I particularly didn’t like the way Pixar’s directors injected their own parenting/ childhood nostalgia into their plots. Something that just seems to go on with their fare ad infinitum. Which means the Pixars I preferred tended to be the Brad Bird ones. You know, the alleged objectivist. Now, though, we learn Pixar has always been about the adrenochrome, so there’s no going back…

No one can be told what the Matrix is. You have to see it for yourself.

The Matrix (1999) (SPOILERS) Twenty years on, and the articles are on the defining nature of The Matrix are piling up, most of them touching on how its world has become a reality, or maybe always was one. At the time, its premise was engaging enough, but it was the sum total of the package that cast a spell – the bullet time, the fashions, the soundtrack, the comic book-as-live-action framing and styling – not to mention it being probably the first movie to embrace and reflect the burgeoning Internet ( Hackers doesn’t really count), and subsequently to really ride the crest of the DVD boom wave. And now? Now it’s still really, really good.

All the world will be your enemy, Prince with a Thousand Enemies.

Watership Down (1978) (SPOILERS) I only read Watership Down recently, despite having loved the film from the first, and I was immediately impressed with how faithful, albeit inevitably compacted, Martin Rosen’s adaptation is. It manages to translate the lyrical, mythic and metaphysical qualities of Richard Adams’ novel without succumbing to dumbing down or the urge to cater for a broader or younger audience. It may be true that parents are the ones who get most concerned over the more disturbing elements of the picture but, given the maturity of the content, it remains a surprise that, as with 2001: A Space Odyssey (which may on the face of it seem like an odd bedfellow), this doesn’t garner a PG certificate. As the makers noted, Watership Down is at least in part an Exodus story, but the biblical implications extend beyond Hazel merely leading his fluffle to the titular promised land. There is a prevalent spiritual dimension to this rabbit universe, one very much

Piece by piece, the camel enters the couscous.

The Forgiven (2021) (SPOILERS) By this point, the differences between filmmaker John Michael McDonagh and his younger brother, filmmaker and playwright Martin McDonagh, are fairly clearly established. Both wear badges of irreverence and provocation in their writing, and a willingness to tackle – or take pot-shots – at bigger issues, ones that may find them dangling their toes in hot water. But Martin receives the lion’s share of the critical attention, while John is generally recognised as the slightly lesser light. Sure, some might mistake Seven Psychopaths for a John movie, and Calvary for a Martin one, but there’s a more flagrant sense of attention seeking in John’s work, and concomitantly less substance. The Forgiven is clearly aiming more in the expressly substantial vein of John’s earlier Calvary, but it ultimately bears the same kind of issues in delivery.

In a few moments, you will have an experience that will seem completely real. It will be the result of your subconscious fears transformed into your conscious awareness.

Brainstorm (1983) (SPOILERS) Might Brainstorm have been the next big thing – a ground-breaking, game-changing cinematic spectacle that had as far reaching consequences as Star Wars (special effects) or Avatar (3D) – if only Douglas Trumbull had been allowed to persevere with his patented “Showscan” process (70mm film photographed and projected at 60 frames per second)? I suspect not; one only has to look at the not-so-far-removed experiment of Ang Lee with Billy Lynn’s Long Halftime Walk , and how that went down like a bag of cold sick, to doubt that any innovation will necessarily catch on (although Trumbull at least had a narrative hinge on which to turn his “more real than real” imagery, whereas Lee’s pretty much boiled down to “because it was there”). Brainstorm ’s story is, though, like its title, possibly too cerebral, too much concerned with the consciousness and touting too little of the cloyingly affirmative that Bruce Rubin inevitably brings to his screenplays. T

Maybe the dingo ate your baby.

Seinfeld 2.9: The Stranded The Premise George and Elaine are stranded at a party in Long Island, with a disgruntled hostess.

He tasks me. He tasks me, and I shall have him.

Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan (1982) (SPOILERS) I don’t love Star Trek , but I do love Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan . That probably isn’t just me, but a common refrain of many a non-devotee of the series. Although, it used to apply to The Voyage Home (the funny one, with the whales, the Star Trek even the target audience for Three Men and a Baby could enjoy). Unfortunately, its high regard has also become the desperate, self-destructive, song-and-verse, be-all-and-end-all of the overlords of the franchise itself, in whichever iteration, it seems. This is understandable to an extent, as Khan is that rare movie sequel made to transcendent effect on almost every level, and one that stands the test of time every bit as well (better, even) as when it was first unveiled.

Now In Full Color, with a Happier Ending

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