FANTASY AND THE MACABRE - Glut of Brainless Horrors Geared for the Teen Set by John Stanley

FANTASY AND THE MACABRE - Glut of Brainless Horrors Geared for the Teen Set

THE SAN FRANCISCO CHRONICLE - December 29, 1985

Author: JOHN STANLEY

It was a year typically dominated by science-fiction movies angled toward the youth market, and the summer saw a glut of brainless plots about teen-age inventors that left one wondering if some producers had compromised their art to attain a new level of ineptitude.

Especially awful within this short-lived subgenre were "Weird Science," an incomprehensible misfire from John Hughes in which a pair of nerds creates a sexy woman from the bowels of their computer, and "My Science Project," in which some wimpy teenagers misuse a force-field weapon from a flying saucer to enter other times and dimensions.

Of a slightly better quality, with director Joe Dante at the helm, was "Explorers," in which yet more teenagers invent a device that speeds them into space, where they meet some cutesy aliens who speak our language, all too well.

Evidence that a science-fiction or fantasy movie didn't have to appeal to the lowest common denominator, and didn't have to depict teenagers in any way, was Ron Howard's unusually mature and sensitive "Cocoon," which dealt with a group of senior citizens and their personal joys and dilemmas when they undergo a youth rejuvenation brought about by alien visitors. Its popularity indicated it was time for a re-evaluation of some of the cliches producers enjoy spouting about what makes a movie successful.

Steven Spielberg kept his crown as the leading producer of glossy, high-tech fantasy movies, hitting his popular stride in 1985 with a witty time-travel comedy, "Back to the Future," which was still one of the top grossers into December, and which is continuing to pull in audiences at the Regency III Theater.

SPIELBERG fared less well with "Goonies," a horribly bloated fairy tale-style search for a pirate's treasure that was such a slight, silly idea it couldn't possibly sustain its enormous, over-rich production. Spielberg ended 1985 on a happier note with "Young Sherlock Holmes," one of the best-crafted films of the year, a stylish tribute to the Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's detective for the first half, a rousing Indiana Jones-style adventure for the second.

The sequel to "Alien" won't be here until next year, but for 1985 we were subjected to an Alien-look-alike in "Creature," a well-done low-budget space-horror adventure. Its craftsmanship would have warranted greater respect had the story been more original; instead, it was almost totally derivative of "Alien." "Life Force" was a Tobe Hooper fiasco about vampires from outer space that turned into a special effects sideshow with no other substance to support it; and "C.H.U.D.S." was an offbeat creatures-in- the -sewer tale photographed in slimy New York locations with a serious attempt to inject a socio-relevant plot into the mayhem; its cheapness ultimately pulled it down a manhole.

"Godzilla 1985" was the hardly awaited revival of the Japanese hulker, who had been off the screen for 10 years. Most critics, after seeing a man in a dinosaur suit crash through cardboard sets with the sleaziest special effects bursting around it, hoped the fire-breathing behemoth would stay away another 10.

Another dinosaur, Baby, in "Baby: Secret of the Lost Legend," rampaged through this Disney film that came and went so fast, even it is considered a lost legend. In fact, Disney had a terrible year: "Return to Oz" was a monumental $27 million disaster, depicting the dark side of Dorothy and her friends on the Yellow Brick Road - a misguided concept the public instantly ignored, and " The Black Cauldron," a long-awaited animated feature, emerged a routine sword-and-sorcery tale with the fire under the kettle fizzling out about halfway along.

Capturing a greater sense of excitement through animation was "Starmaster: The Legend of Orin," touted as the first 3-D cartoon feature. While it had its thrill-packed moments, and featured some imaginative secondary characters, it ultimately became a clone of "Star Wars" - George Lucas would surely have grounds for a lawsuit if he felt like pressing it.

Those who had hoped that Australian director George Miller would top his "Road Warrior" with "Mad Max Beyond Thunderdome" were mildly disappointed. While the new sequel to "Mad Max" was wall-to-wall action, enhanced by the presence of Mel Gibson, its sense of breathlessness was gone.

Political science-fiction remained a lukewarm box-office draw for "1984," a British version of George Orwell's novel of a totalitarian future ruled over by Big Brother. While it was distinguished as the last feature of Richard Burton, it was less distinguished as entertainment, being a bleak depiction of a society without love or hope. It was very very depressing.

A political flight-of-fancy of the worst kind, following on the heels of John Milius' "Red Dawn," was "Invasion U.S.A.," a farfetched proposal that the Russians would land a commando force on a Florida shore and then go around killing innocent Americans as a way of showing our government that we are a stupid lot of cattle being led to the slaughter. It was really just an excuse for Chuck Norris to blast several hundred invaders away, and, coming on the heels of "Code of Silence," it w as a terrible comedown for the box-office star.

In the vein of fantasy adventure there was "King Solomon's Mines," with Richard Chamberlain as H.R. Haggard's great white hunter, Quartermain, but this Golan and Globus movie had nothing to do with Haggard and everything to do with cloning Indiana Jones. While it was a breathless assault of nonstop action, and featured half the tribes of Africa as extras, one couldn't help but be offended by the direct swipes from "Raiders of the Lost Ark" right down to the line "Trust me."

In the mold of James Bond was "Remos Williams: The Adventure Begins," the farfetched premise about a New York cop who is turned into a super spy by a clandestine government agency and trained how to dodge bullets by an Oriental guru (Joel Grey in the oddest casting of the year). The action scenes were good, including a Statue of Liberty acrobatic act. The Golden Gate Bridge, on the other hand, was where Agent 007 found himself dangling from in "A View for a Kill," the weakest Bond film i n a long while, with Roger Moore looking too old for the role and delivering his lines in a bored, tired fashion as he pursued a madman bent on destroying the Bay Area with a devastating earthquake device.

The best horror movie of the year from a standpoint of blood and gore, and downright nightmarish visuals, was "Re-Animator," an independent production that claimed to be based on H. P. Lovecraft short stories. The only similarity was the use of the name Herbert West for the science student who resurrects the dead with a green serum. What was remarkable about "Re-Animator" was its creation of a macabre night land of the starkest horrors - from its walking dead, its talking severed head (with an undying yen to kiss the heroine) and its final surrealistic moments that are right out of a mortician's worst nightmare.

If any one horror film disappointed it was George Romero's third and final part of his "walking dead" trilogy. "Day of the Dead" was nothing compared to "Night of the Living Dead," no matter how much better its scenes of ghouls munching on human flesh or tearing apart a human body piece by piece. It had none of the suspense or punch or restraint that made the 1968 film a cult favorite.

To everyone's surprise, the 1985 release that overtook "Day of the Dead" was "Return of the Living Dead," a delightful (but still occasionally scary) pastiche of the George Romero genre spoofing punk rock, teenage vapidity and Romero himself. Dan O'Bannon, author of "Alien," wrote and directed this unusually bright effort.

Another surprise delight of the year was "Fright Night," with Roddy MacDowall as an ex-"Creature Features" host who gets involved with a young couple stalking a vampire in modern suburbia. The wild and woolly climax was a visual delight of horrors but without being sickening or repulsive in the vein of "Re-Animator."

There were two Stephen King movies in 1985. First came "Cat's Eye," three original tales written by King that were quite literate and exciting, especially the tale of a demonic troll trying to kill a little girl in her bedroom, and scampering through the toys and litter on her floor.

The second King script was "Silver Bullet," based on his famous novella, which was basically a remake of " The Wolf Man" with the hairy beast closing in on Gary Busey and a crippled nephew. The film was handsomely produced, but ultimately, when the smoke from the silver bullet had cleared, the whole thing seemed too slight to be a Stephen King movie.

Werewolves were also busy in "Teen Wolf," an unusual teenage comedy that didn't have one murder - it was all about how Michael Fox adjusts to finding out he's a werewolf halfway through high school. And lycanthropy was the theme of a beautifully photographed English film, "Company of Wolves," an allegory enwrapped in a fairy tale that ultimately became the stomping grounds for Little Red Riding Hood. It was autumnal and lovely, but too esoteric for American horror audiences.

The slasher genre gave out its last gasps. "Final Terror," in which some park rangers and their girlfriends are terrorized by a crazy old lady during an outing, finally came to San Francisco after a couple of years on the shelf, but even exploiting Rachel Ward and Daryl Hannah in the cast couldn't help.

Paramount milked many millions more out of the masked killer named Jason in "Friday the 13th: A New Beginning," the fifth and worst in the series - but surely not the last. There's too many more millions waiting to be picked up.

Sword-and-sorcery waned in '85 without a new Conan movie, but Arnold Schwarzenegger was nevertheless on hand in "Red Sonja," playing swordsey with beautiful Brigitte Nielsen (Sylvester Stallone's new wife) and stopping a green talisman from blowing up the world. Far superior was "Ladyhawke," a medieval myth about two lovers who are cursed, she becoming a hawk by day, he becoming a wolf by night.

Charles Band cranked out a couple of cheapies this year: "Ghoulies," an unmitigated rip off of "Gremlins" but without the style and the sense of humor, and "Dungeonmaster," a spinoff on role-playing games that jumped around from incident to incident as a wicked wizard tried to put the whammy on a heroic guy and vulnerable, tied-to- the -stake gal.

Harry Ho, manager of the St. Francis, was still booking lesser known exploitation movies - grind-house fodder that would warm the heart of Joe Bob Briggs - in exclusive runs. The best exploitationer of the year was "Hellhole," a women-behind-bars genre flick with a twist: A Frankenstein subplot with mad doctor Marjoe Gortner and lustful lesbian Mary Woronov injecting beautiful women with a serum to achieve "liquid lobotomies." Woronov's intense performance was the strangest of a ny movie lesbian yet.

Ho also brought in " The Mutilator ," a Friday- the -13th clone that featured several chopped-up bodies and one cut exactly in half. He double-billed "Superstition" ( The Exorcist Meets the Shining) and "Seven Doors to Death" (haunted house thriller).

Across the street at the Electric Theater, owner George Lung and projectionist Pat Marsh were still priding themselves on finding obscure, little-known horrors that even Ho would probably turn his nose up at. The best for 1985 was " The Stuff," a brand new Larry Cohen science-fiction horror thriller that New World Pictures had refused to give a general release. The white substance of the title turned out to be a natural packaged dessert (resembling yogurt in texture) that took over the eater and turned him into a zombie if it wasn't crawling up the wall like The Blob.

There were two Italian terrors double-billed ("Autopsy" and "Eyeball" ) that were simply awful, and there was the biggest ripoff of the year, "Zombie Island Massacre," which didn't have a single real zombie in it, and which wasn't even a horror film. Italian gangsters and stuff like that.

There was "Sacrifice," a sequel to "Make Them Die Slowly," a sickening cannibal film that featured the on-camera deaths of several animals that were really sacrificed by the filmmakers, and a revival of two gore classics: "Blood Feast" and "2000 Maniacs."

The Electric's final special of the year was " The Deadly Spawn," a science-fiction horror exploitationer in which a toothsome alien monster comes to Earth aboard a meteor and terrorizes some boring teenagers in their home, with scads of little tadpolelike E.T.'s with big teeth swarming into the woodwork and the food. Watching it, as with so many of the year's gross-outs, was an ugly experience.