Three surfer friends - Jody Wallis (Fabian), Steamer Lane (Tab Hunter) and Chase Colton (Peter Brown) - fly from Southern California to Hawaii. Their goal: ride the giant waves of Waimea Bay.
To prepare themselves for the day the huge swells arrive, they move into a beachside commune with some other surfers. The trio make a few friends along the way and even an enemy or two, including Eskimo (James Mitchum), the current champion of Waimea Bay.
The three new arrivals also have some luck with the ladies. Jody falls hard for Brie Matthews (Shelley Fabares), a pretty college student from the mainland who is on vacation. Chase, meanwhile, cozies up to free-spirit Augie Poole (Barbara Eden), who has a particular fondness for wrestling and firecrackers. As for Steamer, he goes after Hawaiian native Lily Kilua (Susan Hart), who lives on a nearby ranch with her mother (Catherine McLeod). Lily’s mom has no time for surfers (Lily’s father left the two of them to travel the world and surf, never to return), so Lily convinces Steamer to lie to her mother, claiming he works for a local auto mechanic.
Jody, Steamer and Chase spend the next few weeks surfing, all to prepare themselves for the day the big waves come in on Waimea. But for Jody, being the best means more than good times. Having dropped out of school, he is looking to make some money, which will only happen if he beats Eskimo and is crowned King of Waimea. Needless to say, Eskimo has other plans.
The opening scenes of Ride the Wild Surf set it up to be a “fun in the sun” kind of film, with the arrival of its main characters, all of whom immediately hit the beach and surf. The surfing sequences throughout the movie are exceptional, featuring actual surf footage interspersed with rear-projection studio shots of the stars paddling out and “riding” the waves (rear-projection is never foolproof, and seldom looks realistic, but it’s used better in this movie than I’ve seen in others).
Yet just as good as the surfing are the scenes in which Jody, Chase, and Steamer interact with their new girlfriends. Jody, whose family life has been pretty dismal, feels he has something to prove, and as Waimea’s big waves draw closer, he gets nervous, which makes him lash out at Brie.
Chase has always played it safe, so Augie makes it her mission to help him loosen up. A scene between the two in which Augie attempts to set off a huge firework specially designed for her, and a subsequent scene when a drunk Chase threatens to dive from the top of Waimea falls, are definite high points.
As for Steamer, he falls deeply in love with Lily, who feels the same for him. Steamer even contemplates moving to Hawaii so he can help Lily and her mother run the ranch, but must come clean with Lily’s mom about being a surfer before that can happen.
The surfing scenes are exciting, but it’s the moments with the leads and their girls, as well as the mounting tension of Waimea’s big waves, that keep you watching. I found myself so invested in the drama that, when a surfing scene suddenly popped up, it felt more like a happy bonus than it did the sole reason to watch Ride the Wild Surf (which I assumed might be the case when I started it).
All the actors do a fine job, but Fabian really impressed me, playing Jody as a guy you root for one minute and want to punch in the face the next (especially late, when he begins to lose his temper). As for the Waimea Bay competition that closes out the film, it’s pretty damn intense, and brings one of the best surf movies I’ve ever seen to a very satisfying end.
Rating: 9 out of 10
High praise, indeed. So, when I finally got around to watching the movie, these accolades had me prepared for the horror experience of a lifetime.
And it was not.
I liked Hereditary; it was skillfully made, and featured some excessively creepy moments. Still, it didn’t even make my year-end list of the top 10 horror films.
So, in 2019, I went into Aster’s follow-up movie, Midsommar, with more tempered expectations. I also avoided trailers and reviews, so as not to be swayed one way or the other.
It proved a good strategy: Midsommar absolutely blew me away! So much so that it inspired me to give Hereditary a second chance. I liked Hereditary a lot more on that follow-up viewing, and now acknowledge its standing as one of the great modern horror films.
Midsommar deserves a similar place of honor. It is the movie that showed me just how skillful a filmmaker Ari Aster is, how his methodical, detailed approach generates dread in a way the average viewer does not anticipate, where seemingly random moments move the story forward, and simple conversations reveal deep-rooted traumas.
Several months after the tragic loss of her entire family, college student Dani (Florence Pugh) agrees to tag along with her longtime boyfriend Christian (Jack Raynor) and his pals Josh (William Jackson Harper) and Mark (Will Poulter) on a trip to Sweden. They were all invited by exchange student Pelle (Vilhelm Blomgren) to visit the Hegra, a spiritual commune he calls home, during one of its biggest festivals of the year: the nine-day celebration of Midsommar.
Still reeling from the murder/suicide that claimed the lives of her parents and sister, Dani is hoping this trip will bring her closer to Christian, who, in recent months, has been pulling away from her. What Dani will find instead is an awakening of a different sort, where bizarre customs and unusual traditions force her to see her relationship with Christian in a new light, and embrace the possibility of finding the inner peace she desperately seeks, with or without him.
The pre-title sequence of Midsommar is as devastating as they come. Dani, reacting to a cryptic e-mail she received from her sister, as well as the fact she has been unable to reach either her or their parents, results in a nervous call to Christian. Christian, at the time, is at a bar with Josh, Mark, and Pelle. He tries to calm Dani, reassuring her everything will be fine, and that her sister is just looking for attention.
We see this exchange from Dani’s perspective as she sits alone, crying in her apartment. Once the call ends, the scene shifts to the bar, where Mark and Josh are telling Christian it’s time to finally break things off with Dani. They say she is too “clingy”, and has far too much emotional baggage. Christian defends Dani, but only slightly, as if he feels his friends may be right.
Then, the scene shifts back to Dani’s apartment, where we listen in on a call between her and a friend. Dani herself parrots what Christian’s pals were just saying, telling her friend she may be expecting too much from Christian, and might be pushing him away.
It is then that Dani’s call is interrupted with the terrible news: her suicidal sister Terri, by way of tubes connected to the exhaust of a car, flooded the family home with toxic carbon monoxide. The authorities found Terri and their parents, all dead in their beds.
Dani calls Christian, wailing and sobbing. We next see Christian walking, ever-so-slowly, through the snow-covered streets to Dani’s apartment. Her distressed screams are heard outside, and Christian hesitates, in no particular hurry to comfort her.
The actors play it wonderfully, especially Pugh, and in this explosive pre-title sequence, the characters and their relationships are firmly established. Dani is a wounded soul, now more than ever, and Christian (who grows increasingly more selfish as the film progresses) is not prepared to deal with either Dani’s grief or her emotional needs
Months later, at a party, Mark lets it slip that he and Christian will be accompanying Josh and Pelle to Sweden in a few weeks (Josh, whose thesis is on primitive European religious customs, is the reason everyone is going with Pelle to the Hegra). Later, when alone, Dani confronts Christian, asking why he never told her about the trip. Feeling cornered, Christian lies and says he was going to surprise Dani and invite her to come along as well (he wasn’t). Dani agrees to go, and only Pelle is pleased that she will be joining the group.
Once the setting shifts to Sweden, during the time of the midnight sun, Aster continues to explore Dani’s grief and Christian’s selfishness by way of the customs and traditions of this seemingly peaceful Swedish commune, where everyone is looked upon as a member of an extended family.
Of course, not all traditions are peaceful; the visitors witness the violent Attestupa ceremony, an extremely bloody ritual involving a pair of the commune’s elders. This shakes Dani as well as two other outsiders, British students Connie (Ellora Torchia) and Simon (Archie Madekwe), who are so horrified that they demand to be taken to the airport.
The Attestupa forces Dani to once again confront her own heartbreak, and it is too much for her. Yet when she too asks to leave, Christian refuses. Having been unsure up to that point of a topic for his college thesis, Christian decides to copy Josh’s project and study the Hegra commune. Josh is, of course, none too pleased, and accuses Christian of “academic laziness” by duplicating his efforts, while Dani once again must deal with the fact that Christian has no regard for her emotional needs.
It is a gripping study of a relationship that has gone south, even if neither Christian nor Dani are ready to admit it yet; and how Dani, with the help of Pelle and the others in the Hegra, comes to terms with her current situation while also recognizing the potential for a brighter future.
That’s not to say Midsommar is all about Dani and Christian. It is, without question, a horror film. There are moments when the festival is in full-swing that will chill you to the bone, and the climactic scene proves every bit as shocking as that of 1973’s The Wicker Man.
Aster does a masterful job combining all elements into a satisfying whole, bringing us along slowly, which makes the shocks and surprises all the more unsettling. And like Hereditary, Midsommar benefits from multiple viewings (especially the nearly 3-hour director’s cut, which provides more insight into the characters and their motivations).
A study of grief; a glimpse inside an ancient culture and its traditions; and, ultimately, a horror film that will rock you to your core, Midsommar is destined to become a genre classic.
In fact, I’d say it already is one.
Rating: 9.5 out of 10
This little factoid piqued my curiosity. How would a Muppet movie play when the key member of the human cast refused to treat them like The Muppets?
Well, it worked wonderfully. Not to worry, though; Henson and crew sneak plenty of Muppet family fun into the mix as well, making The Muppet Christmas Carol the best of both worlds.
Do I even need a synopsis for this story?
Well, maybe for this version I do.
It’s Christmas Eve, and, with author Charles Dickens (The Great Gonzo) and his faithful sidekick Rizzo the Rat (playing himself) as our guides, we are introduced to the most miserly landlord in all of England: Ebeneezer Scrooge (Caine). As the whole of London is celebrating Christmas, Scrooge is where he always is: at work, finalizing foreclosures, so that anyone late with the rent will be out on the street come Christmas morning.
A cruel taskmaster to employee Bob Cratchit (Kermit the Frog) and his team of rat assistants, Scrooge finds himself beset on all sides by the one thing he despises the most: Christmas! From his nephew Fred (Steven Mackintosh) inviting him to a party to a pair of good Samaritans (Professor Bunson Honeydew and Beeker) collecting for charity, Scrooge is reminded at every turn that it is the Christmas season.
After reluctantly agreeing to give Bob Cratchit the next day off to spend time with his wife (Miss Piggy) and kids, Scrooge heads home, ready to put the entire holiday behind him.
Alas, fate has other plans for Ebeneezer Scrooge.
Haunted by the ghosts of his dead partners, Jacob and Robert Marley (the always cantankerous Statler and Waldorf), Scrooge is informed he will be visited that night by three spirits, all of whom will expose the skinflint to the true meaning of Christmas.
I went into The Muppet Christmas Carol wondering which of the traditional Muppets would portray the three spirits: Christmas past, present, and future. But mirroring Caine’s insistence to play Scrooge as close to Dickens’ conception as possible, the spirits, though puppets, adhere to the original novel’s descriptions of them, with the Ghost of Christmas Past depicted as an angel-like girl, and Christmas Present as a boisterous, overly friendly man with a short-term memory problem. Keeping these spirits so close to the original work brought some weight to a story that, inherently, has its share of dark moments and intense situations, especially during the Christmas Yet to Be segment (I laughed when Gonzo and Rizzo, who had been taking us through the story to that point, announced that this segment was far too scary for them and checked out, saying we wouldn’t see them again until the finale).
Natrurally, The Muppet Christmas Carol is not all grim and serious. Henson and company pack the film with loads of Muppet goodness, including cameos by Fozzie Bear (as Scrooge’s old boss Fozziwig), Sam the Eagle (as Scrooge’s childhood schoolmaster), and Animal (doing what he does best: playing drums at Fozziwig’s holiday party). Even Miss Piggy, reduced to the minor role of Bob Cratchit’s wife, gets a few moments to shine in the final act.
Gonzo and Rizzo also give us plenty to laugh about as narrators, doing their best to keep up with the action (their funniest moment has them clinging to a rope, flying through the air with Scrooge and the Spirit of Christmas Past).
As with most Muppet movies, there’s music as well, written by the great Paul Williams. Each tune has its charms, though my favorites come right at the beginning: “Scrooge”, which introduced the character; and “One More Sleep Til Christmas”, performed by Kermit’s Bob Cratchit and the rats as they close up shop for the night.
The Muppet Christmas Carol was the first Muppet movie released after the death of founder Jim Henson, who passed away in May of 1990. But with his son Brian at the helm and the usual cast of voice actors (Dave Goetz, Frank Oz, Steve Whitmire) and puppeteers continuing their fine work, The Muppet Christmas Carol proved an absolute delight, a mostly faithful adaptation of Dickens’ time-honored Christmas tale that remains, at all times, a truly Muppet affair.
Rating: 9 out of 10
In fact, even Laurence Olivier, in a smaller role as an English general, steals more scenes than Lancaster.
Set in New Hampshire during the American Revolution, The Devil’s Disciple opens with the planned hanging of an alleged traitor to the British crown. The condemned man’s youngest son, Christie Dudgeon (Neil McCallum), darts into town and interrupts church services to ask Reverend Anthony Anderson (Lancaster) to intervene and save his father. Knowing full well the elder Dudgeon is a loyal British citizen, the Reverend agrees.
Unfortunately, they arrive too late: Christie’s father has already been hanged. What’s more, Major Swindon (Harry Andrews), second-in-command to General Burgoyne (Olivier) of the Royal Army, has ordered that the body remain strung-up in the public square, to serve as a warning for any potential revolutionaries. Reverend Anderson protests, but to no avail.
Later that night, a lone horseman rides into town, cuts down the body, and takes it to Reverend Anderson’s church for a proper burial. The horseman, it turns out, is none other than Richard Dudgeon (Douglas), the estranged eldest son of the deceased. A cynic who openly opposes the British, Richard Dudgeon, previously disowned by his family, is as shocked as anyone to discover that, when his father’s will is read, he stands to inherit the entirety of the family’s fortune!
Rev. Anderson, ignoring the pleas of his wife Judith (Janette Scott), attempts to befriend Richard Dudgeon, if for no other reason than to convince the now-wealthy revolutionary to live a peaceful life. But as the injustices carried out by the English army mount, including an arrest warrant issued for the Reverend himself for burying the elder Dudgeon, this man of peace begins to wonder if it isn’t time to join Richard Dudgeon and the other rebels to rid themselves of British tyranny once and for all.
This desire for justice grows even stronger when Richard Dudgeon is himself mistaken for Reverend Anderson, taken into custody, and condemned to death!
It might all sound very serious, and there are moments throughout The Devil’s Disciple that are, indeed, no laughing matter, beginning with the opening: the hanging of the elder Dudgeon. For most of the film, Lancaster’s Rev. Anderson also remains quite dour, a determined man who lets his faith steer his actions until pushed to his breaking point.
But it’s the humor of George Bernard Shaw that takes center stage whenever Douglas and Olivier are on-screen. Douglas’s Richard Dudgeon doesn’t seem to take anything seriously, and the initial exchange between he and Rev. Anderson is as witty as they come. Douglas is excellent in the part, and while Lancaster is also strong as the well-intentioned Anderson, Kirk outshines his frequent co-star at every turn. Also funny is Laurence Olivier as General Burgoyne, whose irritation at the frequent mistakes made by Major Swindon generate their share of laughs (especially funny is the sequence where Burgoyne and his army are making their way through a forest, only to be stopped every mile or so by a tree across the road, cut down by the rebels).
Lancaster does have his moments, especially towards the end when his character gets involved in a firefight between the British and Colonial armies (a scene that is simultaneously exciting and hilarious). That said, The Devil’s Disciple is, for the most part, the Kirk Douglas / Laurence Olivier show, and these two powerhouses absolutely deliver.
Rating: 9 out of 10
Though difficult to ascertain, original estimates put the dead at about 66,000, with many more severely injured. Due to the long-term effects of radiation poisoning, it was eventually believed as many as 200,000 perished as a result of the blast.
Those are the facts and figures, the information found in most accounts of the bombing. What 1953’s Hiroshima does is go beyond the statistics, covering this horrific event at ground level, from the point of view of those who suffered through it, and those who lost their lives.
Financed by the Japan Teachers Union, Hiroshima opens in 1953, as Mr. Kiligawa (Eiji Okada) and his pupils are listening to a radio broadcast about the bombing. Suddenly, one student, Michiko (Isako Machida), cries out for the program to stop. She is bleeding from her nose, and it is determined that Michiko, one of several students who actually experienced the bombing, is suffering from Leukemia, known as the “A-Bomb disease”.
From there, Hiroshima takes us back to that fateful day in August of 1945, as students are heading to school when the flash in the sky arrives. Those who survive, including a middle-school class and a mother frantically searching for her children, try to make sense of it all. The injured wander aimlessly, many burned beyond recognition, with some falling over and dying in the middle of the street. Endo (Yoshi Kato) and his sister are looking for their parents, only to learn their mother is dead and their father dying from radiation poisoning.
Directed by Hideo Sekigawa, Hiroshima plays like a docudrama, with citizens of the actual city, many of whom survived the bombing, serving as extras (mostly during the blast’s immediate aftermath). And while the film does utilize actual footage of the tragedy, including views of the city post-bombing and the injuries sustained by the survivors, such moments are kept to a minimum.
As Hiroshima also reminds us, the terror did not end with the bombing. The effects would be felt for months, even years afterwards. In some of the movie’s more poignant scenes, orphans learn how to beg for food, while a hospital caring for the sick and wounded plants radish seeds, in the hopes it might prove the ground is not poisoned. Perhaps most heartbreaking of all is an early scene in which the students of Mr. Kitagawa’s class are thumbing through a book titled Not For Us: Letters from the Youth of East and West Germany, in which German students, writing letters to their Japanese counterparts, state their belief that Japan was used as the “guinea pig” for the atomic bomb, and not Germany, because of their race and the color of their skin (I have heard that Truman was reluctant to use the bomb on Germany for this very reason).
Yes, Hiroshima is an accurate account of the chaos and confusion, the anger and sorrow, that followed in the wake of the bombing. It is based in part on the book Children of the A-Bomb, a first-hand account of kids who survived the ordeal. But unlike history books, facts were of secondary concern to the filmmakers. Hiroshima is about the emotion, the trauma, and, ultimately, the fear of further wars that swept through Japan. A horrifying glimpse of the aftermath of the atomic bomb and a dramatically charged anti-war film, Hiroshima delivers its message like no history book ever could.
Rating: 9 out of 10
Set in the old west, Sam Whiskey stars Reynolds as the title character, a gambler and womanizer who’s had some scrapes with the law. He is approached by wealthy widow Laura Breckenridge (Angie Dickenson), daughter of a prestigious Midwest businessman, who wants Sam to help her out of a sticky situation.
It seems Laura’s late husband, a crooked politician, stole $250,000 worth of gold bars from the U.S. Mint in Denver, a theft that won’t be discovered until the government’s next inspection. To save her family name, Laura wants Sam to retrieve the gold from a sunken steamboat in the Platte river, then break into the Mint and replace the phony bars her husband left behind with the real deal, all before the authorities realize what’s happened.
Confused by this strange request but intrigued by her promise of a hefty reward, Sam agrees to help the lovely Miss Breckenridge, and recruits blacksmith Jed Hooker (Ossie Davis) as well as old pal O.W. Bandy (Clint Walker) to help pull off this crazy caper.
What the trio doesn’t know is that they are being followed by Fat Henry Hobson (Rick Davis), an accomplice of Breckenridge’s husband who wants the gold for himself.
For Sam Whiskey, director Arnold Laven assembled a solid supporting cast. Ossie Davis’s Jed Hooker is the film’s straight man, a quiet observer of the chaos who, when the chips are down, can be relied on to get the job done. Though primarily known for action / adventure westerns like More Dead Than Alive and Yuma, Clint Walker here proves himself a gifted comedian, getting a few laughs as the strong but subtle O.W. And while Angie Dickenson isn’t given much to do short of providing story exposition and hopping into bed with Sam, the chemistry between she and Reynolds makes their scenes together enjoyable.
That said, it’s the guy these talented actors are “supporting” who steals the movie. With Sam Whiskey, we see the beginnings of what would become the trademark Reynolds character, the wise-cracking but amiable rogue whose carefree attitude masks an inner decency which, more often than not, would make its way to the surface before the end credits. From early on, when he tries to steal a bath from Jed, to the final act set inside the Mint (a sequence that also features a handful of suspenseful moments), Reynolds combines the physicality and charm that would, in the coming years, see him canonized as his generation’s Cary Grant.
To watch Reynolds doing comedy nearly a decade before his Hal Needham era proved a treat, and Sam Whiskey is a movie that any fan of Burt’s must check out.
Rating: 8 out of 10
The problem was the story wasn’t worthy of such a herculean effort, and felt more like a soap opera overflowing with love triangles and backstage drama than it did a grand spectacle. The Greatest Show on Earth has its moments, for sure, including a train wreck towards the end that at least approaches its director’s lofty intentions. But ultimately, I was unimpressed, and wonder why such an overblown motion picture won out over High Noon and John Huston’s Moulin Rouge at the Academy Awards as the year’s Best Picture.
Hell, Singin’ in the Rain was a better movie, and it wasn’t even nominated!
Flash forward a dozen years, when another showman with big ideas, Samuel Bronston, tackled another Big Top-themed movie, 1964’s Circus World. With Henry Hathaway in the director’s chair and John Wayne headlining an all-star cast, Circus World had all the makings of a circus epic.
Circus World came up short as well, but not quite as short as The Greatest Show on Earth. Whereas DeMille’s film was pompous and heavy-handed, Circus World is hoaky, but also kind of sweet, and that sweetness would win out in the end.
Circus owner Matt Masters (Wayne) has just wrapped the show’s American tour. Instead of packing up for the season, he decides to take his troupe overseas.
Unfortunately, things don’t go well for Matt or his team. Upon their arrival in Europe, the cruise ship carrying the circus capsizes and sinks. Matt and his crew manage to save all performers and animals, but lose their most important asset: the big top tent!
Matt does his best to salvage the tour, but his real reason for taking the circus overseas was to track down Lili (Rita Hayworth), an old flame and the mother of Matt’s adopted daughter (and fellow circus performer) Toni (Claudia Cardinale). Lili left Matt and Toni behind 14 years earlier after the tragic death of Toni’s father, a trapeze artist who plummeted to his death during a performance. Matt and Lili do eventually reunite, but are reluctant to tell Toni the truth about their own relationship, and what really happened to her dad on that fateful night all those years ago.
Right out of the gate, Circus World had a mawkishness to it, with character introductions and comedic asides that would have been more at home in a kid’s movie. Even the big scene, the sinking of the cruise ship (unlike DeMille’s film, which saved the train wreck for the final act, this tragedy occurs in the first 30 minutes), featured over-the-top sequences that had me rolling my eyes, including a moment when Wayne’s character subdues an angry lion in the ship’s hold, using a whip to force it back into its cage while sporting a western outfit and ten-gallon hat!
But as Circus World pressed on, it began to win me over. The relationship between Matt and Toni had a tenderness to it, as did the romance that blossomed between Toni and fellow performer Steve (John Smith). Even the inevitable return of Toni’s mother, played quite well by Hayworth, was a welcome turn in the story.
Like The Greatest Show on Earth, Circus World never achieves that epic feel it was reaching for; even the circus performances, though well-executed, don’t quite get there. In its quieter moments, I was absolutely tuned in to Circus World, and this connection to the characters and their situations gave the final scenes, when things get “big” again, a gravity that was lacking early on.
As a producer, Samuel Bronston often reached for the stars, telling big stories in grand fashion. He sometimes hit the mark (El-Cid, The Fall of the Roman Empire) and sometimes came up way short (55 Days at Peking). Circus World falls somewhere in the middle, and, though occasionally corny, is just endearing enough to be worth a watch.
Rating: 7 out of 10
