Post-moving comfort food. Noted this time: Paul Gleason’s impeccable timing; wondering why Hart Bochner never made it big; still confused by the angles involved when they take out the LAPD’s RV with the rockets.
Sometimes you end up watching a film and have no idea why. This is one of them – absolutely awful. Icing on the cake? I actually bought it. Paid cash moneys and everything. I think I mistook it for a Michael Biehn film, DeadFall, which is on my MyMovies: Must See list (though that only shaves a .8 improvement on TripFall‘s IMDb score).
Here we have John Ritter and Rachel Hunter as husband-and-wife on vacation in California with their kids who become targets for a crew of white trash kidnappers. Led by Eric Roberts. In baby dreads. With a terrible Southern accent. MBunge’s review somewhat nails it.
Fancied some light entertainment, and this action-comedy creature feature fits the bill admirably. Silly subterranean ‘graboids’ threaten a tiny Nevada township, and only redneck day labourers Fred Ward and Kevin Bacon can save us! A perfect pick-me-up, pretty much fat-free.
The French Connection
The wee man picked this classic off the shelf – good taste, that boy has. Noted this viewing: great score (Don Ellis – see also French Connection II and The Seven-Ups); interesting handwriting by Scheider, Hackman or perhaps some lowly props department shmo; some superb on-location shooting in three of the Five Boroughs.