Showing posts with label film documentary. Show all posts
Showing posts with label film documentary. Show all posts

Tuesday, March 15, 2022

Documentary Review: In Search of Tomorrow: A Journey Through ‘80s Sci-Fi Cinema

Text © Robert Barry Francos / Indie Horror Films, 2022
Images from the Internet

In Search of Tomorrow: A Journey Through ‘80s Sci-Fi Cinema
Directed by David A. Weiner

CreatorVC
301 minutes, 2022
https://80sscifidoc.com/
@80sscifidoc
www.creatorvc.com

Science Fiction can run from the sublime, like 2001: A Space Odyssey (1968) or Silent Running (1972), or it can fall into the B-level category of the likes of The Green Slime (1968) and It! The Terror from Beyond Space (1958; this was the basis for 1979’s Alien, as 1951’s The Thing from Another World was remade as John Carpenter’s The Thing in 1982). Despite some well-done classics such as the first two mentioned above, by the mid-1970s, Sci-Fi was a second-rate citizen as a genre, producing mostly cheese with bad effects.

This all changed in 1977, with the release of a little film called Star Wars, which reignited the genre aflame, giving rise to both big budget bonanzas and cheapie imitations, but the spark was set. In a perfect storm, this upswing came right on the advent of the VHS market, further spreading the fever. Please note that I am writing this intro before actually watching the film, so I am not sure it will reflect my sentiments. And so, it’s time to start the show. Cue Bugs and Daffy.

The focus of this all-star documentary is that period in the 1980s when everything exploded like all those ships in the film version of Battlestar Gallactica (1978).

After the initial introduction, which briefly goes as far back as Georges Méliès’ 1902’s A Trip tothe Moon, and various other highlights, with Wil Wheaton explaining how before Star Wars, most sci-fi was nihilistic and was a warning of things to come, such as The Day the Earth Stood Still (remember, sci-fi is not about the future or the past, but about the present of when the film was made).

This is followed by a host of hosts: interviews with actors, directors (such as Joe Dante, Paul Verhoeven, and John Carpenter), writers (both screenplays and critics), production crew, composers, and vloggers, etc. What is really nice is that the documentary does not only talk about the top-tier releases, but also the relatively smaller ones that did not raise as much of a blip as the multimillion-dollar mega-effects bonanzas. Year by year, they focus on film by film, so while there are the obvious ones like Star Wars: The Empire Strikes Back, E.T: The Extra-Terrestrial, and Blade Runner, I was pleased they went into detail about the likes of Saturn 3, Yor, Galaxina (RIP, Dorothy Stratton), and Spaceballs.  

One thing I hadn’t made the connection to before, while watching the segment focusing on Flash Gordon, is that the top effects in that film and many others of that period, are now in-reach and equal to numerous low budget Sci-Fi/horror film genres of the present day. In the less sophisticated CGI of the 1980s, it was a wow factor, but now one sees it compared to what the major studios are putting out, say the superhero releases, this was pretty basic by today’s standards. Sometimes modern films will try to purposefully look like the ‘80s as a “flashback,” but technology for indie and low-budget films have actually caught up to the ‘80s majors in their technology, especially with green screens. This is especially true with animated films discussed here, such as Heavy Metal, Tron, and the amazing anime Akira. I’m rambling a bit, so I hope this makes sense.

Among the looks back at particular films, between each year there are also segments of about 15 minutes each that give some grounding to the genre of the period, such as “Cold War Kids,” which talks about how people of that generation – especially kids – were immersed in the threat of the possibility of a nuclear bomb going off at any moment. As a child, I still remember the drills in elementary school where we would practice getting under our desks to practice in case of a regular bombing attack, and lining up in the hallways and crouching down in case of an atom bomb. Of course, in reality, neither of those would really do anything, but we heard about it all the time, including in the cinemas encased in the messages from the films we watched. Even those like Goldfinger (1964) had a big, scary bomb. Where’s McGruber when you need ‘im, right?

While not inclusive, some of the between-years other segments include how films were marketed in a pre-Internet world, visual effects, creature effects (among two of my favorite topics), and music scores. The last one is about the technological implications of the vision in the movies, very briefly focusing on the whole “the future in the story represents the now.” There should have been more about technological determinism, and perhaps throw in a bit of Neil Postman’s Amusing Ourselves to Death when describing the likes of Cherry 2000.

Another interesting point the documentary more hints at than is explicit, is that Sci-Fi is almost always blended with something else, such as a Western (Outland; Star Wars), horror (Alien), war stories (Aliens, Enemy Mine, Predator), or social commentary (Final Countdown; Alien Nation), for example. I find it especially the latter, and the nuclear aspect or the rise of computers, robots and technological determinism (e.g., The Terminator) as expounded by the likes of Marshall McLuhan or Jacques Ellul. This “layering” is part of what makes Sci-Fi not only effective, but makes the future relatable. As I said, whenever it takes place, it’s about the present.

The only sort of repetition in the film, which is unavoidable and yet still enjoyable, is the number releases of a franchise, each of which are covered individually if they came out in the ‘80s. This includes Superman, Star Trek, and of course, Star Wars. Lot’s of “Return of…”, “Part II,” and “The Wrath…” to deal with, but these films are classic and pleasing to rehash, so it still goes relatively flying by.

Each release covered gets about five to ten minutes, and includes lots of clips of the film itself, backstage footage and bits from the trailer, and interviews, none very long (hey, there are a lot of films here). They switch back and forth between the present-day discussions (no historical interviews, happily) with the likes of Alex Winter, Barry Bostwick, Dee Wallace, Billy Dee Williams, Nancy Allen and multiple dozens of others, that it is easy to keep the viewers’ attention and interest, even over the extended time frame. I know I had to break up watching it over two days, which was no problem as it’s individual segments, rather than a narrative where plot points can easily be forgotten. Many of the anecdotal stories told by the casts and crews are especially compelling and often humorous, such as someone discussing the pomposity of Shatner on the set of Khan.

The film is not afraid to shy away from pointing out the flaws of some of the films, such as Howard the Duck and Dune, and glorifying those that deserve it, like The Fly and Back to the Future. And while the film is joyfully comprehensive, it is not inclusive. There are many films not selected for discussion, and yet clips are shown, such as Heartbeeps and Night of the Comet. But, considering the information presented and the immensity of the time, I find no fault in that regard.

This release is a follow-up to a three-part series of documentaries by the director titled In Search of Darkness (2019), In Search of Darkness Part II (2021), and the obvious In Search of Darkness Part III (2022). I have not seen these yet, but it is interesting that it is broken up into three, rather than one honkin’ five-hour extravaganza.

The whole film is a big, “Oh, yeah,” if you were a fan of the genre back in that timeframe. And seeing the people involved and what they look like now is a lot of fun, as well.  And if you are wondering, yes, I did sit through all five hours of the documentary, and smiled through most of it.

IMBD Listing HERE 




Tuesday, February 25, 2014

Review: Hanging Shadows: Perspectives on Italian Horror Cinema

Text © Richard Gary/Indie Horror Films, 2014
Images from the Internet

                            

Hanging Shadows: Perspectives on Italian Cinema
Written, produced and directed by Paolo Fazzini          
Elite Entertainment         
60 minutes, 2005 / 2013    
www.MVDvisual.com

Before the VHS explosion of the ‘80s, it was rare to see an Italian horror films either on the screen or especially television.  What we did get was usually directed by Mario Bava, such as La maschera del demonio, aka The Mask of Satan, though it as more commonly known as Black Sunday (1960), and the terrifying I tre volti della paura, or as we knew it, Black Sabbath (1963), possibly Boris Karloff’s last truly scary role.

Of course, we kids didn’t know it was Italian, we just knew it was dubbed. Most of the films shown on this side of the Atlantic whatever the presentation medium, were highly edited, thanks to nudity, blood, and the last remnants of the Hollywood Code system. Besides, most horror viewers back then were teenage couples with the guys looking for reasons to put their arms around their dates.

In college, during the late 1970s, I was introduced to New Wave Italian cinema, such as Luchiano Visconti, Roberto Rossellini, and the realism auteur Michael Antonioni. They were great, technically superb, but the left me kind of cold. I wasn’t sure why I was supposed to care about many of the characters and left me asking, “che cosa?” But it wasn’t until a few short years later that I discovered the piasan niche for which I was looking.

Italian horror cinema, as I said, really came into its golden days in the 1980s, when video stores were springing up every few blocks, its clients hungry for new products, with the two biggest sellers being horror and porn. It was easy to walk into any store and find campy and bloody delights. Names started to be known, like Leo Fulci, Dario Argento, and Lamberto Bava. The posters alone would become iconic, such as Fulci’s Zombie (aka Zombi 2, 1979 .

What made these films so popular was the sheer audacity of them. Many of them were silly, campy, or made no sense, but we later found out that was because they were edited, and usually had multiple names with each version being slightly different. We were seeing lots of gore, but distributors seemed to think that the bleak endings would not fit well with Middle America. It took many years to finally see the real end of The Gates of Hell (aka City of the Living Dead aka Paura nella citta dei morti veventi, 1980); in fact, it wasn’t until it was released on DVD.

The gore effects in these films were stunning: maggots falling out of zombie eyeholes, eyes yanked into shards of wood, bodies pulled apart, bugs eating away at flesh, heads pulled through a drill press, and blood spontaneously pouring out of eyes. Again, they ran from realistic to “fakey,” but it was always mechanical rather than digital. I used to love to try and figure out how they did it. I remember seeing a film where a women spews out her entire intestinal tract and laughing, and then not being able to look at work the next day when someone cut her finger.

If you talk to most of the up-and-coming filmmakers I’ve reviewed, such as Sean Weathers, Dustin Wayde Mills and Richard Marr-Griffin, they will all proudly bear witness to their Italian horror viewing backgrounds. This genre’s popularity has not changed over time, either. Just this past fall, a pal had a day of zombie film viewing with his friends (I was included), and two of them (Zombie and Michele Soavi’s Cemetery Man [aka Delamorte Delamore, 1994]) were of Italian origin, and it was still visceral.

This hour-long documentary is an Italian import as well, created nearly a decade ago, but only recently released in a non-academic forum. We meet many of the directors, writers, and special effect artists that contributed to the field, most of them among the most cherished by the genre’s fans, such as Argento, Bava, and late-comer Soavi.

The film explores the methods behind the madness. For example Soavi explains he hates horror films, but is more into realistic images, so cannibals, rather than zombies, eating people is not horror, and he posits that he does not like the title of horror he is often labeled. .He interestingly comments on the comparative and real graphic images often shown on the television news.

Lamberto Bava tells how he came up with the idea for Demons (aka Demoni, 1985), comparing it to mass media: The first film takes place in a movie house where the demons come out of the projected images; in Demons 2 (aka Demoni 2… l’incubo ritorna, 1985), they come out of the even more accessible television; and in a planned but unrealized third film, it was to come out of the press.

In Italian with English subtitles, the talking parts are pretty short and jump from person to person often, though gratefully the subject’s name is presented often. It comes out a bit disjointed, but once you get the rhythm, it’s fascinating.

Mixed in with the taking heads are many shots from the films, usually the gore scenes and often with nudity, though it’s rare that any clip lasts longer than 10 seconds, and there is hardly any that have dialog.

There are two extras here, focusing in on one director each

The first is of my favorite director of the period, “Leo Fulchi, Italian Godfather of Gore.” Lasting a mere six minutes, it delves into the man rather than the movies, which is great. One of the three people discussing Fulchi (d. 1996) is his daughter, Antonella. The second short is “Mario Bava: Wizard of Fear” is slightly shorter, but again, three people describe Bava (d. 1980) and part of his process, such as his use of quick close-ups, that was copied into spaghetti westerns. The main clip they show is from Black Sunday¸ as they call it here, with the lovely Barbara Steele.  

If you’re a fan of these kinds of film, and we are legion, this is a must see. Otherwise, you might find the visuals quite shocking.


Bonus videos: