BLOOD CAR - Review By Greg Klymkiw - Bloody Original Regional Indie on Kino-Lorber DVD

Blood, Babes and Fast Cars in the great state o' Georgia

Blood Car
Dir. Alex Orr
Scr. Orr & Adam Pinney & Hugh Braselton
Starring: Mike Brune, Anna Chlumsky, Katie Rowlett

Review By Greg Klymkiw

Preface: Blood Car and the
importance of independent, regional cinema

In a recent review I mentioned how I almost missed seeing a great movie (Liza The Fox-Fairy). If it hadn't been gently recommended to me by its publicist for the Niagara Integrated Film Festival (GAT PR's Ingrid Hamilton), I'd still be ignorant of its charms. A similarly fortuitous intervention occurred with this movie. In an email copied to the KL publicity director to ensure a specific review title was added to my list, Bret Wood, filmmaker and home entertainment production executive at Kino-Lorber wrote:

"If you haven't already requested it, you should get a copy of Blood Car. I think it would appeal to your warped sensibility."

Two simple sentences which spoke loudly to this fella.

That said, I've had recommendations before which, on occasion, have not always yielded happy results. However, I'm starting to detect a certain tone in such urgings from certain parties which places their suggestions on another rung altogether.

After five minutes of watching this movie and occasionally throughout, a thought occasionally did glide upon my cerebellum:

How in the name of Jesus H. Christ did I missed this film's 2007 release? I eventually discovered it played during my favourite film festival in Canada, the Toronto After Dark Film Festival, the one year, 2007, in which I was sadly unable to attend.

Blood Car more than appealed to my own perversities, but was, in fact, a genuinely terrific regional indie genre film which additionally warmed the sentimental cockles of my heart as it reminded me of the kind of stuff I loved promoting and making in my youth when I lived far away from the Canadian "centres of [film industry] excellence" like Toronto, Montreal or Vancouver and wherein I produced, sold and marketed similar movies whilst programming a repertory cinema in the middle of Nowheresville - Winnipeg.

For me, what typifies regional indie filmmaking are the exclusive perspectives brought to the work which are rooted, not only in the specific time and place in which the films are set, but are infused with their unique qualities by virtue of telling the kind of stories which mainstream industrial factory towns like Hollywood, could never hope to achieve. For example, George Romero or John Waters created early, low-budget cinema that was inextricably linked to places like Pittsburgh (Night of the Living Dead) and Baltimore (Pink Flamingoes) respectively, just as the work I produced, amongst which included the early shorts by John Paizs and the first three feature films by Guy Maddin, etc. brought genuine indigenous qualities to them which also helped to translate into a kind of originality that lived outside their hermetically sealed worlds whilst capturing elements of said worlds which were intrinsic to their ultimate artistic success.

An engine which rivals gas-guzzlers and even the Electric Car

The Movie Itself

Blood Car exists along blood lines of the very special pedigree which initially spawned Seymour Krelborn, the main character played by Jonathan Haze in Roger Corman and Charles B. Griffith's immortal 1960 Little Shop of Horrors. Shot on the fly over two days with virtually no money, it told the story of a nebbish plant shop employee who nurtures Audrey, a very special flower which can only feed upon human blood. At first, pin pricks drained from Seymour's fingers into the plant's maw prove acceptable, but as the film progresses, Audrey requires the bodies of those Seymour must murder.

Here, we have Archie Andrews (Mike Brune), a nebbish vegan kindergarten teacher in the severely underpopulated region surrounding Atlanta, Georgia. His world is just slightly in the future, one in which gas prices have soared to over $30 per gallon. Archie invents a new motor he hopes to fuel with the disgusting lime green wheat germ drink he purchases from the sweet, innocent babe Lorraine (Anna Chlumsky) who runs the local outdoor health food stand. Alas, his invention keeps sputtering out until he discovers, quite by accident, that a geyser of his blood infuses it with the force it needs.

At first, our geeky hero attempts an extremely grotesque and painful blood transfusion, then outfits his long-dormant car with the new invention which rests conveniently in the rear trunk. It works!!! He drives over to the Veggie Stand to impress Lorraine, though he dupes her into believing that it's her special wheat germ beverage that fuels the car, not blood.

Just across from the Vegan Stand is a Meat Stand presided over by the hot trollop Denise (Kate Rowlett). Where but in a zero-budget independent indigenously-produced film would you find a Vegan food stand and a rival Meat stand, both in the middle of an empty field through which only a handful of people pass through?

Denise's deep-seeded fetish for cars soon manifests itself in the vigorous provision of endless sexual gratification for our hero. Her first ride in the car inspires the dark, Goth-like babe to deliver an enthusiastic knob-polishing upon Archie as he puts the pedal to the metal. Archie soon realizes that the mad sex will only continue if he can keep his vehicle fuelled up. Happily, his infirm elderly neighbour Mrs. Butterfield keels over from a heart attack and he tosses her corpse into the trunk where the blades shred her body to a bloody pulp which feeds the engine with all the nutrition it needs.

Unfortunately, the old broad's scarlet viscous hamburger meat (as it were) lasts only so long and like Seymour Krelborn in Little Shop of Horrors, Archie begins to murder his fuel providers. Add to this mix the romantic back and forth between the good girl and the bad girl, hilarious montages of both murder and sex (at one point culminating in a golden shower) plus mysterious Men in Black-style government agents, following and observing Archie's every move - all of which yields an endlessly hilarious and caustic satire of America, delectably, perfectly and appropriately rooted in the Georgia Hinterlands.

The movie is often rough around the edges, as per its budgetary constraints, but for the most part, it more than makes up for such occasional deficiencies, many of which are cleverly spun by its director into virtues and the added bonus of delightfully over-the-top gore effects, often unique camera compositions, a breakneck pace not unlike a Hawks' screwball comedy, a magnificently short running time (keeping you wanting more in all the right ways), a constantly hilarious and engaging screenplay rife with absurdity and mordantly snappy dialogue and, of course, there are the babes. Not only do we have two leading-lady babes, but the film is full of Georgia Peaches so quim-moist over Archie's wheels, that they're constantly baring their breasts in his general direction to entice him.

Blood Car careens wildly from sharp satire to down and dirty raunch. Roger Corman would certainly be proud and so too should the entire team who generated this no-budget treat.

As for the rest of us, it's a wild ride well worth taking.

THE FILM CORNER RATING: **** Four Stars

Blood Car is available on DVD via Kino-Lorber Films. Its only extras include two brilliant, savage and funny short films from the same creative team and confirm this feature is no fluke. Orr and associates are on to something very special indeed.

ALVIN AND THE CHIPMUNKS - Review By Greg Klymkiw - Good Xmas Family Fun For All

Plop this in front of the brats
and get some shuteye

Alvin and the Chipmunks (2007)
dir. Tim Hill
Starring: Jason Lee, David Cross

Review By Greg Klymkiw

As far as family-friendly Christmas-themed movies go, Alvin and the Chipmunks is never going to be considered a perennial favourite in the mold of It’s a Wonderful Life, A Christmas Carol or Miracle on 34th Street, but it does provide solid entertainment for the kiddies (lots o’ laughs from anyone 10 or under) and mild entertainment for anyone older (lots o’ smiles and a few chuckles) – especially anyone old enough to have sentimental memories of the “original” Alvin hit songs and TV series from the late 50s/early 60s and the 80s animated revival.

Alvin, to the uninitiated, is the head of a squeaky-pitched trio of singing chipmunks who are pals with the loser songwriter David Seville who hits the big time when he stumbles upon the furry ear-shattering musical stylists. Seville, in the original cartoons, spends much of his time chipmunk-sitting his charges and keeping those pesky, but warm-hearted little songsters from getting into all manner of troublesome hijinx. He also bellows out the immortal, stern cry, “A-a-a-a-a-a-l-l-l-l-l-l-l-vin!!!!!” whenever he discovers something is amiss and realizes that it’s probably the work of the troublemaking-est chipmunk of them all.

The 2007 big screen rendering of these characters, is pretty much more of the same, only with live-action “adult” characters and digitally animated fur-balls. Within the confines of a simple, predictable feature-length tale, Dave (the mildly offensive, barely palatable Jason Lee) discovers the chipmunks, becomes their surrogate Dad and eventually loses them to smarmy Ian (a very funny David Cross), a dastardly music promoter. The sleaze ball, in familiar fashion, exploits the chipmunks, screws Dave, but gets his ultimate and well-deserved comeuppance when goodness prevails and all are reunited in grand fashion.

It’s quite the emotional whirlwind – for seven-year-olds, mostly.

What makes the movie relatively agreeable to less-discriminating adults (and those, like me, who should know better, but have a soft spot for squeaky-voiced chipmunks) is the genuinely funny and, at times, endearing musical numbers. In fact, that insane, insipid, and utterly insidious “classic” Chipmunks Christmas song “Christmas Don’t Be Late” will never leave my brain. Initially left behind in the fog of my wayward childhood, the song has been reintroduced to me by this movie and is now emblazoned, carved, burned and branded into my very soul. My God, I feel like Barbara Steele at the beginning of “Black Sunday” who receives the mark of Satan from a hooded executioner. My psyche has been thoroughly scarred forever by those trilling chipmunks. The fur-balls and their squealing, while never at the forefront of my thoughts, are lodged in there like an admittedly oxymoronic migraine of pleasure.

In case you’ve forgotten the lyrics, let me inflict them upon you. The tune will come ever so quickly to you and remain there forever. Besides, I shouldn’t have to suffer alone:

Christmas, Christmas time is near
Time for toys and time for cheer
We've been good, but we can't last
Hurry Christmas, hurry fast
Want a plane that loops the loop
Me, I want a hula hoop
We can hardly stand the wait
Please Christmas, don't be late

The brainchild behind the chipmunks was the late actor and songwriter Ross Bagdasarian and frankly, there’s no denying his impact upon popular American culture. As a young man, Bagdasarian appeared in the original (and legendary) Eddie Dowling Broadway stage production of William Saroyan’s Pulitzer-prizewinning play “The Time of Your Life”. Bagdasarian and Saroyan, cousins and fellow Armenian-Americans shared a love of the arts and most importantly, sentimentality and whimsy. (In fact, the cousins actually co-wrote the song “Come on-a My House” which became such a huge hit for the legendary songstress Rosemary Clooney.) Alas, unlike his more celebrated older cousin Saroyan, Bagdasarian won no Oscars or Pulitzers. He did, however, snafu a couple of Grammy awards, and in so doing, entertained and delighted millions of children (and a few of those aforementioned adults who should know better).

This particular legacy, which is nothing to be sneezed at, acquits itself very nicely in this fluffy, harmless feature. And for those inclined, the two-disc DVD version includes a handy-dandy digital copy of the movie suitable for iPods and iPhones. This is especially handy for chipmunk-obsessed kids on long car rides. Just make sure they’re watching with earphones so the journey can be chipmunk-free for the driver.

So feel free to stuff your little nipper’s stocking with the version that includes the Blu-Ray, DVD and digital copy. Whilst Alvin and his chipmunks yearn for a Christmas that does not come late, the rest of us can yearn for a Christmas that comes as early as possible and dissipates as quickly so that life, in all its splendour, can move on.

And maybe, just maybe, with the kids plugged into iPods, it can be a peaceful Christmas for all.

And to all, a goodnight.

THE FILM CORNER RATING: **½ Two and a half stars

Alvin and the Chipmunks is available on Blu-Ray and DVD from 20th Century Fox Home Entertainment.

KAW - Review By Greg Klymkiw - A loathsome CANADIAN genre film that has absolutely no right to exist because it's so depressingly mediocre and doesn't even deserve the hallowed gifts of such lower ratings on my critical chart like "One Pubic Hair" or "The Turd Behind Harry's".

Kaw (2007) *
dir. Sheldon Wilson
Starring: Sean Patrick Flannery, Kristin Booth, Stephen McHattie, Rod Taylor

Review By Greg Klymkiw

Kaw proved to be quite a revelation. Why had I never heard of it before? How could I have possibly missed a motion picture about a sleepy farming community that is under attack by flocks of crows afflicted with mad-cow disease? This sounds like the sort of picture I live for. I mean, really. Crows? Afflicted with mad-cow disease? Pecking people to death?

Let me be first in line, please.

Alas, such a motion picture did not open theatrically, and I was forced to experience it for the first time on DVD because, as it turns out, Kaw apparently premiered on the Sci-Fi Channel (or, as it is now known in its idiotic re-branded form, Syfy). As I live in Canada, I do not get Syfy. Even if Canada DID get it (or if this movie aired on Canada’s own Space or TMN), I would still not have seen it since I have not had cable television since 1983 and have no intention of getting it ever again.

In any event, it seems that people still make movies for television. In fact, some actors appear almost exclusively in this medium. Sean Patrick Flannery (otherwise known as Sean Who?) plays the stalwart small-town cop attempting to save his fellow townsfolk from the mad-cow-afflicted crows in Kaw. He has, apparently, made many movies for television. This explains why he was not familiar to me. The same thing happened a few years ago when I was watching the pallid American remake of The Grudge and wondered why I could not figure who the mousy, uncharismatic leading lady was. I eventually found out she was the star of the TV show Buffy the Vampire Slayer which I had never seen before because I do not watch television and I had managed to successfully repress her loathsome manifestations in the few pathetic theatrical motion pictures she actually did appear in.

What I know for sure is that I can be proud to be Canadian since Kaw was made in Canada with many Canadian actors, some Canadian producers and with money from the gouvernement du Canada. Though I saw an American flag flying in the small town the movie is set in, I became even more instilled with pride because I realized it was probably some small town in Southern Ontario and that it looked a lot prettier than many small towns in America.

ROD TAYLOR
with a Hutterite responsible
for Mad-Cow Disease which
crows eat and subsequently get
peckish (as it were)
for human flesh.
WARNING:
This sounds a whole lot better
than it actually is!

One happy accident that occurred whilst watching this movie was discovering that Rod Taylor is still alive and he’s a terrific actor who deserves much better than being wasted in thankless roles like this one, a kindly small-town doctor. Taylor, as many of you know, was a big star in the late 50s and early 60s and most notably as the square-jawed leading man in Alfred Hitchcock's The Birds, a film that Kaw pathetically attempts to homage.

Kaw is not terrible. Well, it is, BUT, if you had absolutely nothing to do and found yourself semi-brain-dead in front of a television set, you probably wouldn't feel like you had wasted 90 minutes of your life. You might discover the movie clipped along reasonably, featured Rod Taylor (and the eminently watchable character actor Stephen McHattie) - if your semi-brain-dead state allowed you to recognize them - that it's not without some decent special effects (aimed specifically at you, the semi-brain-dead viewer) and finally, that it's relatively bereft of awful dialogue and instead includes a checklist of perfunctory dialogue. This all, however, is what makes a movie like this even more depressing. I actually kept wishing it would be jaw-droppingly awful, so at least it would have been fun. Instead, it was straight-ahead, humourless and maddeningly borderline competent.

This sort of competence (especially of the borderline variety) does not necessarily make for entertaining movies. I mean, come on, this is about crows with mad-cow disease for God’s sake! Can we lighten up a little folks and have some fun?

Watching this movie kept me thinking about some of the fabulous creature features of the 70s and 80s from people like Roger Corman, Joe Dante and (I kid you not) John Sayles. Movies like Piranha (not the stupid 3-D remake) and Alligator had a delightful trash sensibility and tons of humour mixed with the gore. I even thought about movies like Frogs (from the late, great Canadian TV director George McCowan, who also directed the classic Canadian hockey picture Face Off) and William T. Girdler's Grizzly, an American cellar-dwelling indie from the 70s which was also imbued with pulp sensibilities. I thought about The Birds and Jaws – both “A” pictures to be sure, but full of virtuosity and humour.

And then I thought about Kaw and the humourless competence that rules every frame.

The DVD release of Kaw features a variety of extra features, but the best one is an interview with Rod Taylor who is gracious, funny and full of wonderful anecdotes. Alas, he's forced to talk about Kaw and mentions that he took the role because, unlike Hitchcock’s The Birds, the mad peckers here had a reason for killing people. My heart sank. Taylor was too gracious to admit he took this piece of garbage for the paycheque and came up with some lame excuse. Rod, darling, one of many things that makes The Birds so creepy, so chilling and so scary is that there is NO reason for the birds to kill.

Kaw, however, gives us a moronic reason. Some repressed Hutterites with fake beards (which should be funny, but is not here) don't report that their livestock have mad-cow disease and the crows start to feast on the disease-ridden bodies, which, in turn, drive all of them insane. Now if you’re going to have a mind-numbingly stupid reason behind the carnage, please have the good taste to make a pulpy, funny, completely whacked movie instead of something that is merely competent (and I repeat - borderline competent).

Finally, perhaps the important thing I learned watching Kaw was this – if Kaw is the sort of thing made for television on a regular basis, I’m sure glad I don’t have cable.

THE SEEKER: THE DARK IS RISING - Is this not the stupidest title ever? Wait'll you see the movie.

The Seeker: The Dark Is Rising (2007) *
dir. David L. Cunningham
Starring: Alexander Ludwig, Christopher Eccleston, Ian McShane, Frances Conroy

Review By Greg Klymkiw

Given the overwhelming commercial success of family-aimed fantasy movies like the Lord of the Rings trilogy, the Harry Potter series and The Chronicles of Narnia, it’s actually a bit perplexing to me that we have not had MORE lower budgeted knock-offs with acceptable levels of production value, derivative screenplays and bereft-of-flavour by-the-numbers direction.

The wait is now over.

The Seeker: The Dark Is Rising (one of the more idiotically clumsy titles to grace the silver screen in some time) is just such a motion picture. This dismal cinematic composting toilet boasts an obnoxious lead character, even more obnoxious supporting characters, a just plain simplistic plot, numerous plot holes, inexplicable behaviour, very little in the way of forward-moving character development, stupid dialogue and competent, but ultimately, not too imaginative special effects.

Based upon what must be the first of a series of kids literature that began in the 80s and written by Susan Cooper (who is apparently and especially much-beloved by children that grew up on her work) this actually has to be one of the worst family fantasy movies I have ever seen – so much so, that I am thankful I have not wasted my own child’s time on any of this woman’s books as her writing must make J. K. Rowling and those of her ilk seem like bloody Leo Tolstoy.

I am, of course, assuming the source material is awful without reading it because the screenplay adaptation comes from John Hodge, the masterful author of such screenplays as Shallow Grave and Trainspotting and if he was unable to cobble something together on the page that was even remotely interesting, competent or entertaining, how could I begin to assume the original book was any good to begin with.

The movie tells the story of an obnoxious kid and his obnoxious family who move from America to Britain. The young lad, Will, not unlike a pint-sized Dustin Hoffman from Straw Dogs, is especially weirded out by the odd ways of these wonky English people in their bucolic, whimsical and oh-so quirky English town while conversely, his new friends and some of the townspeople alternate between down-home friendly and inbred, isolationist malevolence. (Much as I’d be tempted to call this a family friendly cross between Harry Potter and Straw Dogs, I won’t, because that actually would make The Seeker sound like a movie worth seeing.)

Soon, Will’s got an incredibly bored-looking Ian MacShane blubbering on to him about some nonsense involving his destiny as the only warrior of the Light who can fight the forces of the Dark in order to keep the world safe forever.

Enter The Rider (Christopher Eccleston), this snarling nasty guy on a horse who looks like a cross between a Thunder Bay rocker dude and a Black Knight by way of Monty Python and the Holy Grail. The Rider (a truly boneheaded name) is the prime mover and shaker of the forces of Dark and it’s up to young Will to take him out. In addition to this, Will needs to seek six items of import to keep the Light safe.

This could have been a most challenging treasure hunt for young, obnoxious Will. Thankfully he finds everything rather easily within a block or two of where he lives.

At this point in our review, the best thing I can do is spoil the ending for you, because I am sure you would never guess what happens and I certainly do not want you to have to actually sit through this movie as I did.

Are you ready for it?

Here it is.

The Seeker fulfills his destiny.

The Dark is defeated.

Light rules.

Why anyone would bother to make this picture is beyond me? Why anyone would watch it is an even greater mystery. Why anyone would bother letting their kids read Susan Cooper’s books also mystifies me (at least if this picture is any indication of what they’re like). Then again, why anyone would let their kids read any of the crap out there that’s aimed at kids – especially that Rowling woman – is beyond me since there’s a wealth of great literature for children that already exists from the likes of Roald Dahl, James Fenimore Cooper, Robert Louis Stevenson, Alexander Dumas, Rudyard Kipling and many, many more.

I’d also like to know why the director of this film, one David. L. Cunningham, even bothers to live and breathe since his direction suggests otherwise.

A movie like The Seeker seems so abominable on every level, I’m ashamed to have even bothered writing this much about it, In fact, it’s so execrable that I am ashamed of forcing you to read what I have to say about it, so I think you should really just clean the palate of your eyeballs and mind (so to speak) and stop reading now.

"The Seeker" is available on DVD and Blu-Ray from 20th Century Fox Home Entertainment

4/12/08

THE COMEBACKS - A Spoof of Sports Movies That Tries To Spoof a Spoof of Sports Movies

The Comebacks (2007) *
dir. Tom Brady
Starring: David Koechner, Carl Weathers

Review By Greg Klymkiw

A nerdy water boy looks up earnestly at the coach and offers him a rim job. An expression of concern crosses the coach’s face. The water boy quickly allays the coach’s fears by pulling a dripping sponge out of a bucket and further explaining how he will wash the rims of the coach’s car. The coach, understandably (since this exchange is in full view of the entire football team) breathes a sigh of relief.

If the abovementioned sounds the least bit funny, then The Comebacks will be a movie made in Heaven for you since it is laden, wall-to-celluloid-wall, with amusing “gags” just like it.

The Comebacks is yet another in a long line of scattershot screen humour that began with Airplane and continued up to and including pictures such as Date Movie and the very recent Meet the Spartans. However, what makes this kind of spoofy humour work is when it is presented with skill and precision. Most importantly, it needs to actually be funny.

The Comebacks is anything but funny. It’s boring, painful, stupid and for its 107 minute running time (the unrated dvd version is unmercifully longer than the theatrical version) all one can do is look open-mouthed and wonder how and/or why it was ever made. One also spends an inordinate amount of time looking at the clock and noticing one’s life tick away as this utterly reprehensible piece of fecal matter continues to unspool.

Not that it matters, but The Comebacks tells the story of a loser coach and a team of losers and how they eventually win. Sound familiar? The unconventional methods utilized by the coach include watching man-on-man hardcore pornography and encouraging his lily-white losers to be “bad”. Ha-ha! I’m still busting a gut.

While it tells this “story”, we are treated to lots of bits attempting to spoof contemporary sports movies like Friday Night Lights, We Are Marshall, Radio and other inspirational gridiron dramas.

The Comebacks reaches its nadir, however, when it resorts to spoofing Dodgeball.

Dodgeball is already a spoof.

It’s also funny and good – neither of which are attributes that The Comebacks is possessed with.

The movie was written and directed by Tom Brady, the auteur behind Rob Schneider’s The Hot Chick. This should tell you everything you need to know.

By the way, I love stupid comedies – however, I expect them to not only be stupid, but funny.

MR. WARMTH: THE DON RICKLES PROJECT - Review By Greg Klymkiw - Filmmaker John Landis renders a loving documentary portrait of a true American original!

Mr. Warmth: The Don Rickles Project (2007)
dir. John Landis
Starring: Don Rickles, Martin Scorsese, Clint Eastwood, Robin Williams, Robin Williams, James Caan, Bob Newhart, Sarah Silverman, Chris Rock, Harry Dean Stanton, Roseanne Barr, Steve Lawrence, Sidney Poitier, Regis Philbin, Billy Crystal, Christopher Guest, Jay Leno, Ed McMahon, Debbie Reynolds, Ernest Borgnine, Larry King, Roger Corman, Joan Rivers, Jimmy Kimmel, Jack Carter, Carl Reiner, Tom and Dick Smothers, Frankie Avalon

***1/2

By Greg Klymkiw

Anyone who doesn't find Don Rickles funny has no sense of humour. No, let me rephrase that. Anyone who has never had at least one moment in their life when they soiled themselves from laughing so hard at Don Rickles has no sense of humour. End of story. No argument. Yeah, yeah. Humour is a matter of taste. Tell it to your, Mama, sissy-pants. If Rickles has never inflicted you with joyful incontinence, your taste is shoved so deep up your rectum it's no wonder you're perpetually constipated.

Throughout my childhood, Rickles was a ubiquitous presence. I don't think a day passed when he wasn't popping up on television or in the movies. Every 60s and 70s sitcom worth its salt had a Rickles guest appearance - The Dick Van Dyke Show, The Lucy Show, The Andy Griffith Show, Gomer Pyle, The Munsters, The Beverly Hillbillies - the list seems endless. Talk shows, variety shows, awards shows and specials like the famous Dean Martin Celebrity Roasts and The Tonight Show with Johnny Carson always featured Rickles prominently. And the movies - Oh, the movies! It felt like Rickles was in all of them (and if he wasn't, he should have been) - serious war dramas like Run Silent Run Deep, not-so-serious war comedies like Kelly's Heroes (where he played "Sgt. Crapgame" opposite Clint Eastwood), Roger Corman's brilliant X - The Man With The X-Ray Eyes and one Frankie Avalon/Annette Funicello Beach Party picture after another.

Rickles made me laugh harder than any comedian then or now. He was the wise-cracking, wise-acre master of insults. Nobody was left unscathed - neither celebrity nor audience member. No race, creed or religion (including self-effacingly his own) escaped his witty barbs. He was relentless - infused with charges of mega-wattage. He was fast, furious and unmistakably an original.

He started as a standup comic in the late 30s - often playing dives and strip clubs. After serving in the Navy, he studied acting - his classmates included the likes of Grace Kelly, Marilyn Monroe and Jason Robards. His movie career took off in the late 50s and in the early 60s, he took Las Vegas by storm.

He's 85-years-old and he hasn't stopped performing.

His live shows are, of course, the stuff of legend and he successfully managed to keep them from ever being filmed. Happily, for those of us who have never seen him live, he was finally convinced to let the cameras capture his mad genius onstage.

Thank Christ, it was filmmaker (and Rickles fan) John Landis who not only convinced Rickles to expose himself for the feature-length HBO special Mr. Warmth: The Don Rickles Project, but directed it as well. Landis has made some of the funniest movies of all time - American Werewolf in London, Coming to America, Trading Places, The Blues Brothers, Three Amigos, National Lampoon's Animal House and The Kentucky Fried Movie. Landis, is first and foremost a filmmaker with a style and voice all his own and he attacks this documentary about America's most beloved caustic wit with both zeal and artistry.

Landis delivers everything a good documentary needs - we get personal anecdotes, the sweep and arc of Rickles' life and most importantly, we get a sense of Rickles on and off stage. We see his kindness, tenderness, love and humanity. This is no warts-and-all portrait. There are no warts. And even if there are, we don't want to see them. In fact, if they exist at all and Landis exposed them, neither he, nor we would believe it.

Rickles is a mensch!

And, of course, a comic genius.

We not only get plenty of phenomenal Rickles concert footage, but gorgeously shot and composed talking heads interview footage as well as skilfully selected and blended archival footage. Rickles isn't only hilarious in the standup routines Landis captures, but in the intimate interviews.

And, of course, we get every star under the sun who has ever worked with and/or admired Rickles to speak about him.

Most amusing of all is how Landis and his subjects all seem obsessed with nailing why Rickles is so special. Brilliantly, the film is ultimately about how none of them hit the nail on the head - that it's Rickles himself who provides the answers. That said, the smorgasbord of stars called upon to extol and examine Rickles, are often funny, entertaining and insightful.

The two best interview subjects are director Martin Scorsese (who comes closest to nailing why Rickles is brilliant) and actor James Caan who reveals that the driving force for his performance as the hotheaded Sonny in The Godfather was by finding his "inner Rickles".

What emerges is a portrait of a comedian who not only entertains, but has inspired more than one generation of comedians, actors, directors and other show business types.

Finally, it's Rickles himself - through his routines and interviews - who reveals what makes him click. Rickles uses insults so ferociously that what finally allows them to be funny (and offensive in all the best ways) is that he's just kidding - not in that disingenuous "Hey, just kidding, folks" fashion, but because he's clearly having so much fun himself.

And the fun is infectious. His audiences feed off this energy and fuel him further with their laughs.

Rickles' barbs are not laced with hatred, but with joy and understanding of human foibles and frailty.

Most of all, though, Landis does prove that the Rickles "Mr. Warmth" monicker is not just an ironic twist on the basis of his humour, but that he's a good person - a loving husband, father and grandfather, a loyal friend and a genuinely fine human being.

And yes, he's warm.

But when Rickles is performing, he's hot!

"Mr. Warmth: The Don Rickles Project" is available on a terrific two-disc DVD from Video Service Corp. (VSC). We get Landis' film on Disc 1 and on Disc 2, we get a tremendous pot-pourri of outtakes including Landis directing Robert DeNiro to say what he wants him to say, James Caan telling a knee-slapping John Wayne story and more Scorsese than you can shake a stick at.

BUG - Collaboration with playwright Tracy Letts yields homerun for William Friedkin, director of The Exorcist, French Connection & Cruising

Bug (2007) dir. William Friedkin
Starring: Ashley Judd, Michael Shannon, Harry Connick Jr.

****

Review By Greg Klymkiw

Without question, Bug is one of the most compelling, terrifying and compulsively watchable pictures to grace the screen in quite some time. Directed by William Friedkin, that venerable master of all that can be deliciously and artfully nasty-minded in cinema, it is a picture that some might even view as a bit of a comeback for the filmmaker who unleashed, among many others, The Exorcist, The French Connection and Cruising. I am, however, not all that fond of the notion of comebacks – especially as they relate to men of Friedkin’s talent and vision – as Norma Desmond said, “it’s the pictures that got smaller”, and certainly in the case of Friedkin, the motion picture industry and the marketplace itself has changed, and certainly not for the better.

Bug tells the seemingly simple tale of a lonely working class woman (Ashley Judd) who finds a glimmer of happiness with a mysterious handsome stranger (Michael Shannon), only to be drawn into his web of paranoia. By finding love, they also discover pain, and eventually true happiness proves to be as elusive and delusional as their respective and, finally, collective states of mind.

In the end, does this really sound that simple? To be frank, it isn’t. In fact, one almost wants to avoid lavishing too much (or even any) attention to the plot since, for most of the picture’s running time, Bug careens madly into very dangerous and surprising territory. So surprising, in fact, that one of the minor disappointments is that the script by Tracy Letts (from his play of the same name) veers into some not-so-surprising territory in the last third of the picture’s running time.

However, for the first two-thirds of the picture, one never really gets a handle on where it is going. And in an age of cookie-cutter story telling, being surprised with every turn is not only rare, but in the case of Bug, supremely engaging and, even during some especially stomach-turning moments, entertainment of the highest order.

Friedkin is responsible for so much of this. Based on a theatrical piece, the movie wisely does not betray its roots but enhances them in a wholly cinematic way. Since most of the picture involves two people (with a handful of occasional “interlopers”) in one motel room, this could have (in less capable hands) been a dull, dreary mess. Friedkin keeps us glued to the screen with a keen eye that makes every shot a pleasure to look at, but also resonating with dramatic intensity. Not that the style is intrusive or obvious – it is, in fact, a delicious bird’s eye view of two people spiraling into a pit of insanity presented with verve and honesty.

This should come as no surprise to Friedkin followers. His early career as a documentary filmmaker in addition to his years of experience as a visual storyteller serves him very well. He has also adapted theatre to the big screen – most notably with the slightly dated, but still groundbreaking motion picture of Mart Crowley’s play The Boys In The Band. Friedkin is not one of those filmmakers who fall into the cliché of having to unnaturally “open up” a theatrical work and/or gussy it up with overly fussy visual details. Friedkin embraces the proscenium in a variety of inventive ways – preserving the claustrophobic intensity of the piece, but allowing it to still breathe as a work of cinema.

But perhaps Friedkin’s greatest gift as a storyteller is his audacity. When necessary, he will push the boundaries, up the ante and shove us headfirst into territory that most filmmakers who prefer to hide from or even worse, try to mute. Not Friedkin. He ‘rub our noses’ in the worlds of his various films and succeeds admirably.

Can anyone forget how far Friedkin took us in The Exorcist? Developing compelling characters and charting their journeys with the precision of a master documentarian and slowly building to a series of crescendos in which he earned and flung all manner of visceral atrocities in our face. Friedkin ensured that The Exorcist would be a true classic with lasting value by never forgetting that movies are a rollercoaster ride and that one must build to the peaks and valleys of terror with skill and precision to make sure that the moments of viscera stay with us forever.

With Cruising, Friedkin blended the tried and true ‘policier’ with a descent into a sexy, thrilling, Bosch-like world of gay S&M clubs. Some found this offensive and/or homophobic - too bad for them. They lose. It was supposed to be thrilling. And so it was.

And in The French Connection who can ever forget the moments of utter terror behind the wheel of Gene Hackman’s speeding car as it tore through the grubby, crowded streets of New York in pursuit of a train?

With Bug, Friedkin takes us on an equally compelling rollercoaster ride. As thrilling and memorable as the ride is, there is a point in the story where one gets a nagging feeling that it could go in a certain and potentially ho-hum direction, but because the picture has been surprising you all along and because the ride has been so happily infused with style, you repress your doubts and believe it will go into more unpredictable directions. The ride continues and it is still thrilling, but the eventual outcome was what you will, no doubt, have predicted at that earlier juncture. This is a bit of a drag.

But no matter: there are so few movies around these days as provocative and stunningly directed as Bug that one can forgive a flaw that would sink most other pictures.

The performance Friedkin coaxes from a slightly de-glammed, but still delectably sexy Ashley Judd is a tour-de-force – ranging from shy submission to out and out over-the-top insanity. Michael Shannon has had plenty of time to perfect his performance as the paranoid war vet on the stage, but he seems as fresh as if he were doing it for the first time. And in a supporting role as Judd’s psychotically abusive ex, Harry Connick Jr. shocks and surprises with a performance that is as sexy as it is terrifying.

Bug is a must-see motion picture. Even if you end up hating it, you’ll probably admire it anyway for both audacity and Friedkin's relentless directorial virtuosity.