Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (1990)

There was no greater time to be young or young at heart than on a Saturday morning in the 1980s. While the concept of Saturday morning cartoons had been around since the 1960s, many of the most fondly remembered cartoons of my generation were from the 1980s. Shows like Masters of the Universe, Transformers, G.I. Joe, and The Real Ghostbusters made the decade of excess memorable for nostalgic cartoon fans such as myself. However, many of these cartoons were accompanied by such massive and popular toy lines that it was hard to tell whether the toys were a marketing device for the show, or if the show was a marketing device for the toys.

One such cartoon was Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. Based on the gritty underground comic book created in 1984 by Mirage Comics founders Kevin Eastman and Peter Laird, the lighthearted cartoon made its debut in the winter of 1987 and immediately became a mainstream cultural sensation. And what a sensation it was. Ninja Turtles merchandise flooded the marketplace, from the successful action figures and toys to products like breakfast cereal, clothing, Hostess fruit pies, video games, and a second line of kid-friendly comic books published by Archie Comics.

The Turtles were everywhere, so invading the lives of my generation that if a group of six-year-old kids formed a Ninja Turtle religion in the late-'80s, I wouldn't have been surprised. The phenomenon became so huge, that it only made sense for someone to produce a movie in order to capitalize on the popularity of the Ninja Turtles. Drawing inspiration from both the cartoon and Eastman and Laird's original comics, New Line Cinema's live-action cinematic adaptation hit theaters on March 30, 1990. Great comic/cartoon tie-in, or shameful attempt to make money? I'll tell you at the end.

New York City has fallen under the grip of a crime wave. No, this crime wave has nothing to do with a drug trafficking ring, murders, assorted violence, the Mafia, or gang warfare on the scale of The Warriors, or anything fun like that. It's just lots and lots of burglaries. From petty thefts to grand larcenies, more and more robberies perpetrated by unseen thieves are being committed. Yeah, it might just be a bunch of minor misdemeanors, but those can really pile up if there's a mighty crapload of them all at the same time.

The police refuse to talk about these crimes, but television news reporter April O'Neil (Judith Hoag) theorizes that they're possibly being committed by the same group of people. After filing a report about the crime wave for the evening news, April actually comes across some of these unseen thieves as they rob a production truck in a dark corner of the parking lot. They see her too, and none of them have any qualms about mugging a defenseless woman. Luckily for April, a street light above them shatters, and unluckily for her attackers, something knocks them all out just before the police arrive.

We follow April's saviors into the sewers, where we discover that they are a quartet of anthropomorphic tortoises trained in martial arts, each named after Renaissance artists and each carrying their own signature weapon. There's the sword-wielding samurai Leonardo (the voice of Brian Tochi); intellectual Donatello (the voice of Corey Feldman), armed with a bo staff; nunchucku-twirling practical joker Michelangelo (the voice of Robbie Rist); and sai-using Raphael (the voice of Kenn Troum), a sarcastic loner with a quick temper. The four return the subterranean den they call their home, as they prepare for a victory feast with their adoptive father, a wise mutant rat named Splinter (the voice of Kevin Clash).

Raphael and Leonardo get into an argument soon after arriving home, and Raphael storms out so he can cool off. He ends up in Central Park, where a fight with two purse snatchers leads Raphael to another brawl with Casey Jones (Elias Koates), a masked vigilante armed with an arsenal of sports equipment. Casey wins after cracking him with a cricket bat, further enraging Raphael by calling him a freak as he runs off. And that just doesn't jive with Raphael. He chases Casey a few blocks, but returns home defeated after his quarry evades him.

A day or two passes, and April returns to work, digging deeper into the cause of the crime wave. Doing so has not only draws the ire of the police department's grossly ineffective chief (Raymond Serra), but runs her afoul of a secretive, ancient band of ninjas known as the Foot Clan. A group of masked Foot members accost her in a subway terminal, warning her to keep her mouth shut before knocking her unconscious. But luckily for April, Raphael steps in and wards them off. He scoops her up and not knowing where else to go, takes her to his humble abode. She eventually awakens and is understandably freaked out, but calms down long enough for Splinter to explain how he and his four reptilian "sons" came to be. The Turtles escort April back to her apartment, but return to discover that the Foot has discovered their home and kidnapped Splinter.

The four emotionally crushed Turtles return to the safe haven of April's apartment, while Splinter is taken to the Foot's headquarters. Their headquarters is a secluded warehouse reminiscent of Pinocchio's Pleasure Island, a den of sin and vice that seems to have drawn the attention of every no-good sleazebag punk kid in New York City. It is there that the Foot Clan is slowly building an army of teenage ninja warriors, led by a criminal mastermind known as "The Shredder" (James Saito).

One of these teenagers is Danny Pennington (Michael Terney), the son of April's boss. Shredder has proclaimed the Turtles as the Foot's equivalent of Public Enemy #1, and having seen them hiding out at April's apartment, Danny tells Shredder exactly where to find them. Oh, that's just great. That no-good little weasel completely sold the Turtles out. I didn't like you before, but it's safe to say that you just made my list, pal. And another thing, Danny: stealing wallets from yuppies, wearing Sex Pistols shirts, and hanging out with an evil ninja clan doesn't make you hip. It just makes you even more of a tool.

Morning comes, and Shredder's chief lieutenant Tatsu (Toshishiro Obata) leads a veritable army of Foot soldiers to April's apartment and launch a surprise attack on the Turtles. Even with Casey joining the fracas after seeing it from a nearby rooftop, the Foot grossly outnumber our heroes, who are forced to fall back as the building burns down around them. They retreat to April's childhood home in the country, where the defeated Turtles regroup and prepare themselves for a return to the city. They do eventually return, and with an apologetic Danny leading Casey to the Foot's headquarters so they can free Splinter, the Turtles wage a war with the Foot Clan that moves from the sewers to the streets, climaxing upon the city's rooftops as they have a final confrontation with Shredder.

In the lexicon of movies based on comic book superheroes, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles seems to get lost in the shuffle. One could blame it on the fact that the unbelievably immense success of the cartoon and action figures overshadowed the existence of the comics. And it's usually dismissed by non-fans, lumped with other forgotten comic book movies like Spawn or Steel. Forgotten comic book movies are usually that way for a reason; those that remember them don't exactly remember them fondly.

But usually, the forgotten ones were poorly-made claptrap that completely flopped at the box office. That wasn't the case with this particular movie. The movie is actually pretty well done, and just like the franchise that inspired it, the movie was actually a big fat hit. It grossed just shy of 202 million dollars at the worldwide box office, and actually earned a spot as the highest-grossing independent movie of all time (until being dethroned by The Blair Witch Project nine years later). What surprises me about that is that it was neither produced nor distributed by a major studio. You'd think that with Turtlemania running wild, the major studios would be sacrificing their firstborn children to acquire the film rights. But New Line Cinema picked up the distribution rights with Golden Harvest handling production, and New Line had their some of their biggest success since the Nightmare on Elm Street series began.

The screenplay written by Todd W. Langen and Bobby Herbeck is very well done. It's actually darker than one would expect, considering that the movie probably wouldn't have been made if it hadn't been for a certain bright, cheerful Saturday morning cartoon. There's brief violence against women and animals (not counting violence against the four turtles, of course), two murders (and a third, implied one), and even a handful of mild profanities. I assume Langen and Herbeck chose to write the movie like this in order to retain some connection to Eastman and Laird's original comics, while also doing something to make the movie feel grown up. They even make references to The Grapes of Wrath, War and Peace, and, of all things, Bruce Willis's old TV show, Moonlighting. That way, the adults who got dragged to the local movie theater by their Turtle-obsessed kids wouldn't feel like they were watching a movie made entirely for children.

But I have to say that, darkness aside, Langen and Herbeck's screenplay has a youthful enthusiasm. Scenes like Donatello and Casey playfully insulting one another alphabetically, Michelangelo yelling martial arts advice at an animated version of The Tortoise and the Hare, and the Turtles teasing Raphael because they think he has a crush on April keep the movie entertaining, lighthearted, and enjoyable. The only part of the script that fails is the instances of awkward, cringe-worthy dialogue, particularly the surfer lingo used by the Turtles. I'll admit that Kentucky has never exactly been the surfing capitol of the world, but I can't say that I know a single person that has ever said "gnarly," "radical," or "cowabunga" in a regular conversation. I have no clue how talking like that was ever cool, even in 1990. Of course, I'll probably be mocking modern slang in about twenty years, but that's the circle of life.

Steve Barron's direction isn't too bad either. Known at the time for his work as a music video director, Barron appears to understand that the silliness of the Ninja Turtles concept is also what makes it special. Thus, neither Barron or cinematographer John Fenner really try anything fancy to distract from that silliness. I must say, though, that Barron does manage to keep the movie's energy high, especially during the action sequences. Prolonged fight scenes can grow tedious if they go on for too long, but Barron injects them with humor in order to keep them entertaining. Of course, it's completely within reason for the Turtles to crack joke after joke during their fights, so that also shows Barron's understanding of the property. On the music side of things, I enjoyed the music composed by John Du Prez. The score is engaging, exciting, matching the movie's pace and tone scene for scene and really enhancing what we see onscreen. And I have to say that the score is way better than pretty much all of the songs on the soundtrack. Pretty much all of the songs are as lame today as they were in 1990, and that's terrible.

The voice actors are excellent too, each of them filling their roles well. The actors playing the Turtles and Splinter give each of their characters lots of depth and emotion, which the roles need in order to make the characters believable. Unfortunately, the human cast is a mixed bag. Elias Koates is outstanding as Casey Jones, turning in a performance that's my favorite part of the whole movie. If I had to pick just one reason to check this movie out, it would be Koates's hilarious, entertaining performance. Meanwhile, Judith Hoag misses a few notes, which is mostly due to her having to deliver a few awkward lines of dialogue (i.e. "Am I behind on my Sony payments again?"). But for the most part, she's not bad.

But I'll tell you who is bad: pretty much everybody else. Raymond Serra and Jay Patterson, who plays April's boss, are complete non-factors in extremely minor, almost pointless roles, and Michael Turney just isn't very good at all. I could have completely done without the character to begin with, and Turney's awful performance makes me reach for my DVD player's fast-forward button every time I see him.

And I don't know whether I should really comment on James Saito or Toshishiro Obata's performances, since according to the credits, both of their voices are dubbed (with David McCharen handling Saito's dialogue and Michael McConnohie handling Obata's dialogue). It's like how people were complaining that Linda Blair got an Oscar nomination for her performance in The Exorcist when she didn't even speak half of her own dialogue in the finished film. If Saito and Obata's voices were dubbed over for reasons similar to Arnold Schwarzenegger's performance in Hercules in New York, that's one thing. But if it's a matter of a language barrier, then I don't know what the problem is. Some of the actors in Hostel couldn't speak a word of English, and still managed to learn their lines phonetically. It shouldn't have been too hard for Obata, since he only had three short lines in the whole thing. I guess I'm just raising a stink over something that isn't all that big of a deal in the long run, but sometimes it's just the little things that bug me to death.

I would, however, be remiss if I didn't at least mention the real stars of the movie: the costumes designed by Jim Henson's Creature Shop. The movie wasn't a success for the plot or the direction or anything like that; it made so much money because kids wanted to see four six-foot-tall turtles kick ninjas in the head. And I think those kids got their money's worth.

Nowadays, the characters would have probably would have been CGI-enhanced, if not completely computer generated. But the fact that they're four guys in suits with animatronic facial features helps the movie feel a bit more real, since we can see that the cast is actually interacting with someone that's there on the set with them. And you'd think that the turtle costumes would be uncomfortable and constrictive, but the four actors wearing them — David Forman, Michelan Sisti, Leif Tilden, and Josh Pais as Leonardo, Michelangelo, Donatello, and Raphael respectively — and their stunt doubles don't seem like they have any trouble performing. And for that, I applaud the Creature Shop's efforts.

I was one of millions of kids caught in the grip of Turtlemania back in 1990. We couldn't get enough of our favorite foursome, and to us, a Ninja Turtles movie was bigger than the Super Bowl and World Series combined. And nearly twenty years later, we Turtle fans have grown up, but I think the movie as aged as well as one could expect. No, it isn't as solid as it might have been when it was first released, but it's not a bad movie at all. As a comic book movie, I'll admit that it isn't as well-made as recent fare featuring Marvel and DC stars. But as entertainment, and as a reminder of just how wonderful my youth was, I think the movie was great. My final verdict: three and a half stars, leaning heavily towards four. Cowabunga, indeed.

Final Rating: ***½

The Texas Chainsaw Massacre: The Beginning (2006)

In many of my reviews, I've noted that one of the biggest trends in Hollywood is the remake. Why struggle to think up something original when you can simply redo some other well-known movie? This trend is especially rampant in the horror genre, with dozens of American genre classics and a number of Asian movies being remade to varying levels of success. A lot of these remakes are generally frowned upon by horror fans after they are initially announced by studios, but one that got a lot of ire was the remake of The Texas Chainsaw Massacre in 2003. Tobe Hooper's 1974 classic is beloved by the horror faithful, so when New Line Cinema and hot-shot producer Michael Bay's production company Platinum Dunes announced they'd be teaming to "re-imagine" it, it wasn't the most popular of news items.

But when the movie was hit theaters, it was a big fat hit that drew just as much acceptance as it did derision. Three years later, New Line and Platinum Dunes reunited to continue the story told by the remake. But in lieu of moving the story forward with a traditional sequel, the decision was made to go a different route and take the story a step backward with a prequel. Titled The Texas Chainsaw Massacre: The Beginning, the movie presents us with what its promotional campaign billed "the birth of fear" in all its blood-soaked glory. Let's see how it holds up.

The year is 1939. Inside a stuffy slaughterhouse in rural Travis County, Texas, a pregnant young woman goes into labor, giving birth to a son before she ultimately dies. The disfigured baby is later discovered by the passing Luda Mae Hewitt (Marietta Marich) in a dumpster outside the slaughterhouse, and she takes it home to raise as her own.

Flash forward thirty years to the summer of 1969. The adopted baby has grown into an extremely antisocial adult named Thomas (Andrew Brynarski), who hides his facial deformities beneath a crude leather mask as he works in the very slaughterhouse he was born in. But as Bob Dylan sang, "the times, they are a-changin'."

Faced with a number of sanctions from health inspectors, the slaughterhouse has been forced to lay off all its employees and close up shop for good. Closing the slaughterhouse has killed the entire town, and nearly all of its citizens have taken off for good. But Thomas remains at the slaughterhouse, refusing to vacate the premises. And he isn't too keen on told to leave, either. When his boss insults him and orders him to leave, Thomas doesn't hesitate in beating him to death with a sledgehammer. Satisfied with what he's done, he picks up a nearby chainsaw and starts walking the long road to home.

This little incident doesn't go unnoticed by the police, however. The one cop that has yet to leave town, Sheriff Hoyt (Lew Temple), contacts Thomas's brother Charlie (R. Lee Ermey) and asks him to help track Thomas down. The pair eventually find him, but when Hoyt goes to arrest Thomas, Charlie decides he's not having any of that and blows Hoyt's face off with a shotgun. And since the abandoned town doesn't have a police force now, Charlie decides that he's going to be the town's law and order. So what does he do? He drives Hoyt's police car home, cleans up the uniform, and assumes the identity of the deceased Sheriff Hoyt. That evening, the Hewitt family gathers around the dinner table. Hoyt announces to Luda Mae and his uncle Monty (Terrence Evans) that while the neighborhood may have become a ghost town, the Hewitts aren't going to abandon their home. And thanks to the former sheriff, they're not going to go hungry. I'm sure you know what that means. Nothing brings a family together like cannibalism.

And just their luck, a potential meal is passing through town. The Vietnam War is in full swing, and Eric Hill (Matthew Bomer) has been drafted into service. His brother Dean (Taylor Handley), who's already served one tour of duty in the war, plans on re-enlisting so Eric isn't alone, and their girlfriends Chrissie (Jordana Brewster) and Bailey (Diora Baird) are helping them drive across Texas so they can sign up. The only catch is that Eric has no desire to enlist, so he and Bailey are planning on bolting to Mexico the first chance they get. But unfortunately, their chances are slim to none. As they drive down a deserted stretch of road, the quartet are accosted by a biker (Emily Kaye), who pulls up beside them and draws a sawed-off shotgun with the intentions of robbing them.

But in all the chaos, the four travelers hit a cow, causing their jeep to flip. Chrissie is thrown from the vehicle into a roadside ditch, and watches in horror as the new Sheriff Hoyt arrives and guns down the biker for no good reason. He corrals Dean, Eric, and Bailey into his cruiser and takes them off to the Hewitt house, where we know no good things will happen. With a little begrudging assistance from the biker's boyfriend (Lee Tergesen), Chrissie sets out to free her friends from the clutches of the Hewitt family and the chainsaw-wielding psychopath that earned the nickname "Leatherface."

If one thing can be said about The Texas Chainsaw Massacre: The Beginning, it's that the movie never forgets what it is. It's a movie about a family of redneck cannibals and a big guy with a chainsaw and a leather mask. Never does it try to be anything more or anything less. The movie understands its own nature, and has no problem showing that nature to its viewers. It is violent, bloody, and thoroughly misanthropic, terms that it wears proudly as badges of honor. And while it's not great, it most certainly knows what it wants to achieve and goes for it with gusto.

Director Jonathan Liebesman makes his second attempt at a feature-length movie, and I thought he did a lot to redeem himself after that mediocre waste of time called Darkness Falls that he directed in 2003. If prequels have one fatal flaw, it's that we know how things are going to turn out. That's the nature of most prequels; you can usually guess with a fair amount of accuracy who will be the survivors and who will be the victims. Liebesman seems to recognize this, and he makes a very good attempt to at least keep our attention by keeping the pace tight and the intensity high.

And working with cinematographer Lukas Ettlin, he gives the movie a gritty, visceral feeling that was missing from the remake. He tints the movie with sepia colors, giving it a dry, dusty, and dirty look that, when combined with Liebesman's use of shadows, works to greatly enhance the movie's tense atmosphere. Aiding the atmosphere is the music score composed by Steve Jablonsky, the usual composer for Platinum Dunes movies. Jablonsky's music is quite effective, never distracting from the movie by being overbearing, instead supporting the on-screen terror. It is tense and scary all on its own, which really boosts the movie as a whole.

Let's not forget the screenplay written by Sheldon Turner, working from a story from noted "splatterpunk" author David J. Schow. Turner's script is quite well done, not letting the audience go once it gets into its groove. His dialogue is believable, and while the protagonists aren't exactly the movie's main focus when compared to the Hewitts, they're still likable, sympathetic characters. But I have to note the best part of the script, which is how Turner uses the concept of a prequel to take the opportunity to further develop the Hewitts. He fully reveals their cannibalistic nature, and makes them an actual family.

And that's what makes Turner's script so effective. It's not completely because of how crazy they are, but how normal they perceive their behavior to be. Forcing physical and psychological torture upon innocent bystanders before chopping them up and eating them for dinner is nothing out of the ordinary for them. Villains like the Hewitts are incredibly scary, because they feel that they are totally, 100% justified in what they do. Their murders are not instigated by vengeance or their own personal amusement, but simply because killing and eating their victims are the way they survive.

Lastly, there's the cast. Everyone's performances are relatively even, but nobody really stands out except for Andrew Brynarski and R. Lee Ermey. As with the remake, Brynarski and Ermey make the entire movie their own. Since Leatherface is a physical role with no dialogue, Brynarski's acting has to be of a physical nature. And he's more than up to the task. His performance really helps the theory that beyond his violent streak and talent with butchery, Leatherface is like a whipped puppy dog. He doesn't really stand up for himself, since he's so used to being bullied, bossed around, and generally talked down to by his brother and his peers. He's basically a poor beaten animal in a human's body, and Brynarski's performance exhibits that.

The other truly notable member of the cast, Ermey, is absolutely astounding. I make it no secret that I'm a fan of Ermey, and his performance here reinforces that. Ermey plays the character as sadistic, brutal, and with a sardonic wit that really injects the movie with a ton of black humor. He's really the standout cast member of both the remake and the prequel, and I think believe that Platinum Dunes couldn't have hired anyone better to play Sheriff Hoyt.

Just like the remake, The Texas Chainsaw Massacre: The Beginning has gotten a decisively mixed reception. Personally, I liked it. I'll admit to liking the remake a wee bit more, but the prequel is not without its merits. I found it to have a vibe much closer to Tobe Hooper's original movie than the remake, and the prequel's depiction of the Hewitts really puts them as some of the decade's better horror villains. The Texas Chainsaw Massacre: The Beginning won't go down as an all-time classic, but I did like it a lot. Since it had its flaws, but it certainly did a lot of things I liked, the final verdict for the movie is three and a half stars. It's worth at least a rental.

Final Rating: ***½

Saw III (2006)

One of the most famous horror movie clichés is that the sinners always die first. Drink a beer, you're going to die. Smoke marijuana, you're going to die. Have sex, you're going to die. Be an all-around pain in the neck, you're gonna die. The "sinners die first" cliché has not usually been addressed outright in the past, but this changed when Lions Gate Films released the low-budget flick Saw two days before Halloween in 2004. The brainchild of Australian filmmakers James Wan and Leigh Whannell, Saw introduced the world to Jigsaw, an evil genius who places victims in intricate deathtraps to teach them about the value of human life.

The movie was a huge success, and twelve months later, a sequel hit theaters and achieved even more box office success than its predecessor. Someone at Lions Gate must have had the idea to keep the franchise going a Halloween tradition, as the third chapter of the Saw franchise saw its release on October 26, 2006. And I'm willing to bet that it is perhaps the most ambitious entry in the series.

Master manipulator John "Jigsaw" Kramer (Tobin Bell) is on his deathbed. Closer than ever to succumbing to the brain tumor that changed his life, he has time enough for one last game. Playing the game is Jeff Reinhart (Angus Macfayden), a man tormented by the memories of his eight-year-old son's tragic death and burning with an immeasurable hatred for the drunk driver that caused it and for those who let him get away with a mere slap on the wrist. It is this animosity that has caught Jigsaw's eye, and he has chosen Jeff as his newest guinea pig. Awaiting him in a veritable house of horrors are three tests that will challenge not his will to live, but his will to forgive.

To ensure her gravely ill mentor can see Jeff's adventure to its completion, Jigsaw's budding protégé Amanda (Shawnee Smith) kidnaps troubled yet talented surgeon Lynn Denlon (Bahar Soomekh) and orders her to help him. To ensure her cooperation, Amanda straps a collar rigged with shotgun shells around Lynn's neck. The collar is remotely connected to Jigsaw's heart rate monitor; if he flatlines or if Lynn moves outside of a certain range, the collar will activate and blow her face off. With no options, she is forced to do everything she can to make sure Jigsaw stays alive until his final game can be completed.

It should be stated that Saw III is without a doubt the best chapter in the Saw saga thus far. It is remarkably strong, thanks in large part to placing as much concentration on the development of its characters as it does the creative and deliciously nasty deathtraps that have become the franchise's hallmark. It helps that the movie also boasts tight direction, an extremely well-written script, and an amazing cast. Put it all together, and at the risk of sounding hyperbolic, it makes for one of the best genre entries in some time.

Let's hit the script first. Penned by Leigh Whannell, the screenplay is awesome. It has all of the twists and turns that fans of the series have come to expect, but it balances that with something resembling — gasp! — a soul. While the first two movies are dripping with misanthropy, Saw III actually has something to talk about. It is a tale of forgiveness and compassion, and although it is told with tremendous amounts of graphic violence, the message is there and the movie is better for it. Whannell's screenplay also focuses heavily on its four main characters, each intriguing in their own way.

The most developed and layered characters are Jigsaw and Amanda, who have evolved beyond their relatively minor appearances in the first film to become the franchise's most important characters. What makes Jigsaw — and by proxy the entire Saw franchise — special is that instead of being the traditionally sadistic villain with an insatiable bloodlust and a jet black heart, Jigsaw honestly does not wish death upon his victims. By his own admission in Saw III, he abhors murderers. He wants his victims to survive and become better people due to the hardships he puts them through. That gives Jigsaw a certain bizarre nobility that makes him stand out from his genre brethren. Take, for instance, the scene in which Lynn performs brain surgery on a half-conscious Jigsaw. For Jigsaw to agree to go through this surely painful procedure puts him on the same level as those he chooses to test. It makes him unlike nearly every other horror villain; it makes him human.

Amanda's story, from Jigsaw's victim to Jigsaw's apprentice, pushes forward as well. One could call her a victim of Stockholm Syndrome taken to an unconscionable degree. Jigsaw's trap for her saved her from her heroin addiction, and instead of intently following in his footsteps, she took a wrong turn somewhere. Amanda is a character full of anger and pain and contempt for others, and sees becoming the new Jigsaw not as a way to keep Jigsaw's philosophy going, but to inflict the pain inside her soul upon others. She's taken to cutting herself as a release from her problems, and a potential return to her addiction hangs above her head like a dark cloud. Amanda could have taken any path after surviving Jigsaw's game, but the one she has chosen is both frightening and heartbreaking.

Neither Jigsaw or Amanda reveal all the cards in their hands until the grand finale, and my, what a finale it is. One of the franchise's trademarks is the twist ending in each chapter, and Saw III's twist is the biggest yet. Whannell's screenplay wraps up nearly every loose end from the entire trilogy thus far in the movie's last five minutes, and brings the entire Saw universe full circle. We're given the broadest scope of Jigsaw's world yet, making the franchise is deeper because of it.

Up next is the direction by Darren Lynn Bousman. Working with cinematographer David Armstrong, Bousman's direction is excellently done. He utilizes some amazing scene transitions and maintains the franchise's traditional rapid-fire editing, while changing things up a little, as he incorporates a darker, gloomier atmosphere in the scenes with Jeff while using the franchise's usual bright lighting for Jigsaw's lair. Much of the movie also looks to have a very light, almost subliminal green tint, which I found to help quite a bit with establishing the proper atmosphere for the movie.

This ambiance is greatly assisted by the remarkable score composed by Charlie Clouser. I absolutely loved Clouser's music for the first two Saw movies, and he didn't let me down with Saw III. The score is very heavy, very industrial, and very befitting of the movie's tone. And I'd be remiss if I didn't mention the recurring reprisals of the "Zepp Overture," a piece of music from the first Saw that has essentially become the de facto theme song for the series. Clouser uses a few different versions of the song throughout the movie, each one used in a way that enhances the scenes they're featured in.

Last but not least, there's the cast. I found Bahar Soomekh to be off and on in her role, but Tobin Bell, Shawnee Smith, and Angus Macfayden are all amazing. Macfadyen's performance as Jeff, a father whose mourning of the past is ruining his present, is utterly sympathetic. The role is an emotional and heart-wrenching one, and Macfayden knocks it out of the park. And once again, both Bell and Smith, the glue that have held the entire series together, are nothing short of wonderful. I honestly cannot imagine anyone else in their roles. The character of Amanda is simultaneously strong and weak, forceful and vulnerable, and Smith's powerful performance reflects that. Smith balances Amanda's rage and fragility excellently, something that I feel strengthens the character.

Meanwhile, Bell still manages to be excellent while doing the bulk of his performance lying on his back. I stated above that Jigsaw is a very human villain, and I believe that what Bell brings a lot of that to the surface. He plays Jigsaw as someone who, despite being borderline helpless, is still very much trying to assert his control over his life's work even as chinks in his armor begin to appear.

This, along giving Jigsaw a reserved, almost accepting outlook on being faced with his own mortality, really made a difference on how I look at the character even in the prior two movies. If one looks at Jigsaw's evolution over the course of the series, from evil genius to puppet master to a man in the twilight of his life, you see how even though he may be going about it a way most people wouldn't dream of, Jigsaw is a man who wants to make a difference in the world. But while Jigsaw has evolved, the constant has been Bell's respectable performances. As I said, Bell and Smith are the glue that holds the Saw movies together, and I believe that to be the truth.

Critics have dismissed Saw III as just another mindless gorefest organized to simply gross people out. But did those people watch the same movie I did? While I will readily admit that Saw III is not for the squeamish, there's more to it than gallons of fake gore. It's a story that forgiveness is divine, and that nursing the grudges you have against your fellow man will ultimately come back to burn you.

I'm sure that as long as the series makes money, Lions Gate won't hesitate to annually make a Saw movie until they reach Saw 37: Jigsaw in Space. But if it were to stop with Saw III, I think the story would be wrapped up nicely. Saw III would be a more-than-satisfying ending to a trilogy that's become a horror classic for the twenty-first century. And I think it earns four stars and a strong recommendation to check out the entire Saw series. Go check 'em out.

Final Rating: ****

Slither (2006)

One of my favorite movies of all time is the 1986 horror/comedy film Night of the Creeps. Directed by RoboCop 3 helmsman Fred Dekker and starring Tom Atkins (who you may recognize from such films as Escape From New York and Halloween III: Season of the Witch), Night of the Creeps told the story of alien slugs that come to Earth and turn their unfortunate victims into zombies. I absolutely love Night of the Creeps, primarily because I think it is representative of nearly everything I love in silly B-grade horror movies. It doesn't take itself seriously, and it's obvious that everyone involved with the movie's production are having the time of their lives doing it.

That's why I was so excited when Universal Pictures released Slither five months shy of the twentieth anniversary of Night of the Creeps. A comedic blend of '50s alien invasion movies and the "body horror" concept popularized by movies such as David Cronenberg's Shivers, Slither could very much be construed as a spiritual cousin of Night of the Creeps. And it's pretty entertaining to boot.

Our tale of terror centers around the sleepy little town of Wheelsy, South Carolina. Life moves slowly in Wheelsy, to the point that the opening of deer hunting season is worthy of a wild party at the local tavern, and the only source of entertainment for Wheelsy's bored police force is clocking how fast birds fly. And as we all know, sleepy little towns always end up being the location of boatloads of bad things.

When one of the town's wealthiest citizens, Grant Grant (Michael Rooker), contracts what appears to be a bizarre disease, Wheelsy is soon thereafter beset upon by various unusual occurrences. A number of disappearances are reported, starting with family pets before escalating to livestock and culminating with a young woman named Brenda Gutierrez (Brenda James); all of them are somehow connected to Grant.

The disappearances don't really bother Grant's wife Starla (Elizabeth Banks) until she begins noticing how much her husband has changed. Beyond his worsening physical condition and the bizarre infection spreading across his chest, Grant has been quite unlike himself. He conducts suspicious, secretive business behind the padlocked basement door, his behavior is erratic, and he has developed a voracious appetite for red meat.

It isn't until local sheriff Bill Pardy (Nathan Fillion) and deputy Wally Whale (Don Thompson) inform her that someone resembling Grant was seen entering Brenda's house the night she disappeared that Starla decides to put her foot down. She breaks down the basement door and discovers exactly what Grant's been up to: he's been building a nest and populating it with the dead bodies of all the missing pets from the neighborhood. She tries calling Bill to inform him of her discovery only to be interrupted by Grant, who tries strangling her with a left arm that has now become an elongated tentacle. Bill, Wally, and the entire police force arrive just in time, kicking in the door and scaring Grant away.

Three days pass. Grant has left a string of animal thefts and mutilations on farms across the edge of town, and the police are hot on his trail. Bill and his posse, along with Starla and Wheelsy's foul-mouthed mayor Jack MacReady (Gregg Henry), conduct a stakeout at the next farm they believe he'll hit. But when they find him, he's become a hideously deformed monster. They chase him to an abandoned barn in the middle of the woods, only to discover what exactly happened to Brenda Gutierrez. Turns out Grant chained her up in the barn and turned her into something resembling a human hot air balloon.

As Bill tries to calm her down, Brenda begins to violently tremble before she bursts open, pouring out thousands of disgusting slugs. And these icky little buggers aren't to be trifled with, as they're capable of leeching onto all forms of sentient life and turning them into acid-spitting zombies connected to Grant through a hive mind relationship. Bill, Starla, Jack, and another survivor, Kylie Strutemyer (Tania Saulnier), realize that killing Grant will end the alien plague, but to do that, they have to make sure they don't fall victim to either the slugs or the zombies they control.

Slither was less than successful during its theatrical run, pulling in a worldwide gross of right around twelve million dollars. Perhaps that's because horror/comedies are a rather tough sale. A lot of people don't want to laugh while they're being scared, and others don't want to be scared while they're laughing. That's a real shame, because Slither is a damn good movie. It is definitely made with passion, by people who believed in the material and wanted to make the best movie possible. And while the movie is not perfect, I believe that it's definitely heading in the right direction on the path to achieving status as a cult classic.

The movie marks the directorial debut of James Gunn, who has gained some prominence as a screenwriter via a colorful résumé that includes the live-action Scooby-Doo movies, the remake of Dawn of the Dead, and legendary low-budget studio Troma Entertainment's Tromeo and Juliet. He stays true to his Troma roots with Slither, presenting us with a movie that doesn't take itself too seriously and is far better for it. Both Gunn's direction and his screenplay have all the wacky over-the-top hallmarks of the greatest Troma movies. The script has some killer dialogue and a number of moments that are humorous and frightening, and for a first-time director, Gunn proves himself quite capable of crafting a movie worth seeing.

Take, for example, the scene in which Grant attacks Brenda with the tentacles growing from his chest. As we see this violent quasi-rape go down, we are also privy to Wheelsy's big party commemorating the beginning of deer hunting season. Gunn makes Grant's attack that much more disturbing by overlaying these scenes of horror with scenes of humor. There's also a rather subtle subtext going on during the scene too. While we see the attack go down, we hear Mayor MacReady at the party making a humorous speech about mankind's dominance over its prey before beginning a countdown to officially start the hunt. While it may have been a start for humans hunting deer, the way it's edited also sets it up as the alien slugs declaring open season on the human race as well. It's a subtext that isn't really dwelled upon, but really emphasizes Slither's horror nature.

Gunn's direction is assisted by the fantastic score composed by Tyler Bates. It appears as if Bates has slowly been developing a reputation as being the "go to" guy for horror movie soundtracks, with his résumé including movies like The Devil's Rejects, See No Evil, and the aforementioned Dawn of the Dead remake. His music for those movies were fantastic, and Slither is no exception. Bates's work here is wonderful, matching both the humor and the terror scene for scene. The score never becomes overbearing or invasive, and it supports the movie well.

But perhaps the most impressive of all is the cast. Despite spending the majority of the movie buried beneath pounds of latex makeup, Michael Rooker turns in a wonderful performance that is both funny and sympathetic. Elizabeth Banks is great as well, even though it seems like her role wasn't a very demanding one. No knock against her or anything, but I just got the feeling that there wasn't a whole lot asked of Banks.

However, the best parts of the entire cast were the thoroughly amusing performances by Nathan Fillion and Gregg Henry. Fillion's deadpan delivery is absolutely hilarious, as is Henry's performance. Henry is obviously having a lot of fun playing the part of a total sleazebag. I point to his rant about not having any of his favorite soft drink after the first appearance of the slugs. Henry's delivery shows an understanding that the movie is a tongue-in-cheek affair, and that makes both his performance and the character much more entertaining.

Slither is of a dying breed, a horror film wearing an irreverent sense of humor on its sleeve. And as I said above, its failure at the box office is disappointing when you consider just how good it is. Though I will admit that Slither will not satisfy everyone, those that appreciate films of this ilk will enjoy it. James Gunn, the cast, and the crew should be proud of themselves for creating an original film in a genre that in recent years has been overrun with sequels and remakes. And because of both its originality and its quality, I'll give Slither a strong four stars and a recommendation to check it out.

Final Rating: ****

Snakes on a Plane (2006)

All the way back in 1999, a little film titled The Blair Witch Project entered into the public consciousness. It amassed a sizable cult following even before its release via its website, and thanks to the vast word-of-mouth that it garnered, The Blair Witch Project became one of the highest grossing — and most parodied — movies of the year. Seven years later, New Line Cinema attempted to duplicate that success with their high concept movie Snakes on a Plane.

And oh boy, did Snakes on a Plane take off. Even before the movie was released, its title alone brought the movie all kinds of recognition online, from websites selling T-shirts and other trinkets bearing the movie's name, to dozens of blogs following the production's progress, to homemade parodies and music videos on YouTube. If you were online at any point during 2006, you'd probably heard of Snakes on a Plane. The movie's strong online following even convinced the filmmakers to do a week's worth of reshoots to earn the movie an R-rating and incorporate material from the more popular parodies. The movie had all the makings of a modern cult classic before it was even released, but was it worth it? Let's find out.

After he witnesses powerful mobster Eddie Kim (Byron Lawson) brutally murder a prosecutor, Sean Jones (Nathan Phillips) is convinced by FBI agents Neville Flynn (Samuel L. Jackson) and John Sanders (Mark Houghton) to testify against Kim at his trial in Los Angeles. The three take a red eye flight from Honolulu to Los Angeles, taking over the entire first class section for extra security, much to the chagrin of the various passengers that are bumped down to coach to accommodate them.

But despite all precautions, Kim has managed to get time-released crates loaded with venomous snakes into the plane's cargo hold. And just to make sure that the snakes are going to be extra vicious, the leis given to the passengers during boarding have been secretly sprayed with pheromones to make them more aggressive. The crate opens up 30,000 feet in the air, and those not killed by the snakes are forced to band together to survive and get to their destination safely.

Snakes on a Plane is one of those movies that are absolutely critic-proof. It doesn't really matter what Roger Ebert or Leonard Maltin or any other reviewer thinks about this movie, since the title alone is enough to form one's opinion of it before you plunk down the money to watch it. Just read the title. Come on, read it. "Snakes on a Plane." Just reading that alone, you're either going to believe that this is a laughably ludicrous concept and skip it, or something that you're going to want to watch and have a fun time doing so. The movie is an unabashed attempt at making a mainstream B-movie, and it never once hides the fact that it is what it is. Most movies try to be profound or heartwarming or some other kind of artsy-fartsy crap, but Snakes on a Plane remembers that a movie should be first and foremost entertaining. And I believe it succeeds.

With Final Destination 2 on his résumé, director David R. Ellis is no stranger to this kind of outrageous mayhem. And while I don't believe his work here will win any awards, it's certainly competent and effective on more than one occasion. Ellis, teaming with cinematographer Adam Greenberg, does what he can to make the movie look as exciting as possible in spite of the cramped sets. While the editing perhaps isn't as tight as it could have been, there's great camera angles and movements, and I liked the fun "SnakeVision" point-of-view shots. Ellis thankfully does not overuse the SnakeVision gimmick, but their appearances do flow perfectly with the tone the movie sets. Ellis's direction is enhanced by Trevor Rabin's score, which is never distracting, but suits the movie perfectly.

And then there's the script. Penned by John Heffernan and Sebastian Gutierrez, the script hits pretty much every action movie standard it possibly can while still managing to be extremely entertaining. It is amazing how much Heffernan and Gutierrez's screenplay accomplishes with so little. I mean, that's possibly the shortest plot synopsis I've ever written. If you expected a longer one, you've misunderstood the simplicity of the movie.

Really, the title is all you need to know. There are snakes on a plane. In fact, that synopsis is probably longer than it could have been. It could have been just one sentence. Maybe something like, "Sam Jackson fights snakes on a plane." That sums up the whole thing, doesn't it? With that in mind, it doesn't really matter that the movie is full of clichés and silly dialogue, or that the characters are generic stock characters, because the script takes those potential problems and makes them fun to watch.

Last but not least, there's the cast. None of them take it all that seriously, which makes the movie that much better. And I'm going to come right out and say it: the only member of the cast that matters is Samuel L. Jackson. Really, he's the only one worth talking about. While Nathan Phillips and Julianna Marguiles are acceptable, and Kenan Thompson and Rick Koechner are extremely funny, none of them are as awesome as Jackson. You can look at him and tell he's having the absolute time of his life. He's readily admitted in the past that he only agreed to do the movie because he liked the title, and even threatened to quit if they changed it. But Jackson takes the material and runs with it. Jackson is a total bad-ass here, dropping F-bombs and zapping snakes with a stun gun like he was king of the world. Anyone in need of proof regarding just how awesome Samuel L. Jackson only needs to rent Snakes on a Plane. He is this movie.

This combination of aviophobia and opidiophobia — or as one online reviewer succinctly put it, this blend of Anaconda and Passenger 57 — makes for a movie that has to be one of the most entertaining films of 2006. Snakes on a Plane might not have been the biggest hit it could have been, especially with all the hype. But I do think that the movie's target audience will turn it into a bona fide cult classic with time. With a name like that, it's inevitable. The cast and crew obviously had fun making the movie, and as long as you're not deathly afraid of CGI snakes, I think you'll have fun watching it. Snakes on a Plane gets three and a half stars, leaning towards four. Now it's time to bring on more "animals on transportation" movies.

Final Rating: ***½