On “Cogito, ergo suck” (7/23/96)
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Notes of your itinerant reviewer:
Independence Day: Trust me on this point of elementary physics: if a spaceship is fifteen miles across, even tactical nukes will bounce off it like spitwads from a peashooter; or [more to the point] like spears off an ironclad. — And on this elementary point of film criticism: the only good disaster movie, ever, was
Airplane. — A point which seems not to have been lost upon the authors, since what this looks like, actually, is not the movie per se but rather the remake of the parody of the movie, made by some guys who though they themselves may see the joke nonetheless trust that the audience will not: the idea of President Bill Pullman climbing into his jet to lead his aerial troops into the final battle against the invading aliens, for instance, is obviously stolen from the epic swordfight in
Hot Shots Part Deux between President Lloyd Bridges and Saddam Hussein; never mind the risibility of Goldblum’s plugging his laptop into an alien mainframe and instantly hacking their operating system [do they run Unix?] — The best comedy of the season, in any case; I only wish they’d gone all the way and cast Leslie Nielsen in the lead.
The Truth About Cats And Dogs: Cute. Cute. Cute.
Cyrano for girls; and why not. But isn’t there another way to do it? Why does the homely girl have to win out over the cute girl at the end? Why can’t the two girls decide they don’t need the guy at all and ride off together into the sunset? Why can’t the guy turn out to have been twins all along? or two guys, you know, not indistinguishable, so that the cute guy falls for the homely girl and the homely guy falls for the cute girl... no, I think this is another one that was old when Shakespeare stole it from the Italians... But maybe the guy falls for the homely girl but she decides at the last moment that she really wants his dog, and then Uma... wait a minute...
Twister: Once upon a time, in a darkened theater, in the middle of a tedious expository speech in the middle of an otherwise harmlessly amusing Harold Robbins movie [
The Betsy, I believe], I cleared my throat and remarked loudly: “Less plot.” The audience gave me an ovation. Unfortunately, Michael Crichton wasn’t there to absorb this lesson. — Still, the best I’ve seen this season.
Where the Green Ants Dream: Curiously enough, Herzog begins and ends this picture [about Australian aborigines] with footage of a real tornado. But it just can’t compare to the fake ones. Can it.
The Video Station’s Roger Corman’s
Bram Stoker’s Burial of the Rats: I think they shot this in Moscow just because naked women are cheaper there. — Joe Bob himself couldn’t count the hooters in this flick. I had to watch it twice just to find Nikki Fritz; who could have thought this was posssible?
Casino: Great cinematography. What was it about again?
Lawnmower Man 2: Wow: cyberspace.
Sudden Death: Bad casting. — Everything would have worked out much better all around if Jeff Goldblum had been the guy who defeats the terrorists at the hockey arena, and Van Damme had been the scientist who cracks the alien code. — This would, at least, have been equally plausible.
The Rock: No. — Well, actually, Yes. But I wish I hadn’t.
Striptease: Honestly, I was on my way to the theater to check this out when I opened the paper and realized they’d already pulled the plug. — Ah well. Tell Demi to leave her clothes off, and, Better luck next year.
____________Correction and amplification (5/4/96)
