REVIEW COLLECTION: “Ghostbusters” Series

(Courtesy Logo Design Love) 

WRITER’S NOTE: Except for the first and last ones, the following reviews were originally posted on my Instagram page @be.kerian. 

Ghostbusters (1984) 

Ghostbusters is a classic movie, there’s no denying it. It wasn’t the first time that different genres have been seamlessly combined. But Ghostbusters took that blend of supernatural horror, science-fiction, special effects, and improvisational dialogue, and elevated it to a whole new level. After all, director Ivan Reitman, writers Dan Aykroyd and Harold Ramis, and co-stars Bill Murray and Rick Moranis, had been involved with some of the most popular comedy films and T.V. shows of the era. This marked the first time they’ve all worked together on the same project.

The quirky characters remain iconic, from the carefree Peter Venkman (Murray) to fascination-fanatic Ray Stantz (Aykroyd), Twinkie-loving straight man Egon Spengler (Ramis), new-recruit Winston (Ernie Hudson), motormouth tenant Lewis Tully (Moranis), the beautiful Dana Berrett (Sigourney Weaver), and deadpan receptionist Janine (Annie Potts). And who could forget those brown jumpsuits, complete with the ghost logo and proton packs? And there’s the Ectomobile and catchy theme song. 

Except for Winston (who would join later), these characters start out as university parapsychologists who are fired, and decide to set up their own business: catching and entrapping the paranormal and all things that go bump-in-the-night. And their timing couldn’t be more impeccable, as their business oddly begins to boom, EPA reps get angrily concerned, and residents begin to get possessed by dark forces, including evil minions who are awaiting the coming of a destructive force, which eventually takes the Godzilla-like form of a corporate mascot. 

Yes, Ghostbusters is a comedy. And it’s as scary as it is funny. But when we really consider this film’s handling of spirituality (including the fact that many of these characters are occasionally clueless when it comes to supernatural), not to mention outdated sexual innuendos and scenes of smoking, it’s a reminder that there’s no such thing as, “It’s just a movie.” 

Ghostbusters 2 (1989) 

When it was first released, the makers and stars of Ghostbusters were surprised that their movie was not only popular with their target adult audience (hence that film’s adult humor), but also with kids. This reported demographic shift led to a Saturday morning cartoon (The Real Ghostbusters), as well as a more family-friendly sequel in 1989. 

Set five years later, the ever-popular paranormal exterminators have moved on to other lines of work (and non-smoking habits), from psychic talk shows to occult book stores. But when gallons of pink slime start to surface in the Big Apple around New Year’s Eve, Peter Venkman (Billy Murray), Ray Stantz (Dan Aykroyd), Egon Spengler (Harold Ramis), and Winston Zeddemore (Ernie Hudson) get back in business and eventually face off against an evil ancient Viking. 

Murray has expressed disappointment over this installment, claiming it was more special-effects driven—a fair statement, considering the gallons of pink slime, kooky specters, and ridiculous or loud humor that populate the screen. The story isn’t as strong or memorable either. And then there are scary scenes of child endangerment, which is another story. But Ghostbusters 2 has its moments (“Come on, there’s always room for jello”), including a clever, updated animated logo. And it still knows how to balance laughs and scares effectively. 

Most of all, it’s fun to watch Murray, Aykroyd, Ramis, and Hudson (along with Sigourney Weaver, Annie Potts, and Rick Moranis) once again. Talks of a third movie have circulated over the years since, with most of the main cast—and director Ivan Reitman—expressing interest, but reportedly only moving forward if Murray agreed as well. With Moranis’s retirement ten years later and Ramis’s passing in 2014, Ghostbusters 2 would be the last time they all worked together on the same movie.

Ghostbusters a.k.a. Ghostbusters: Answer the Call (2016) 

After years of being in, quote-on-quote, development limbo—and despite an ingenious homage in the 2009 horror-comedy Zombieland—a new Ghostbusters was finally greenlit, and even endorsed by Ivan Reitman and the original cast (including Bill Murray). The 2016 gender-swap reboot attempt (from Bridesmaids director Paul Feig), however, isn’t what people were expecting. As with most franchises, it’s true that nothing will ever top the original. But this version of Ghostbusters got a lot of heat on social media as soon as the first trailer was released. (At the time, it was the most disliked movie preview on YouTube.) 

The movie itself, admittedly, is not perfect. It has too many special effects, and its improvised banter doesn’t always land. Plus, its trademark secular and scientific views of spirituality and the afterlife (even as a fantasy) make it out of bounds for more discerning viewers. Ditto some crass dialogue, a few questionable song lyrics, and a scene involving the suicide of a disturbed adversary. (For those reasons, I myself can’t endorse this.) It’s sort of ironic that critics seemed to favor this movie more than audiences—the opposite reaction towards Zack Snyder’s Batman v Superman (which is a different story). 

I will say that this Ghostbusters otherwise stands on its own, largely thanks to the camaraderie among its four leading ladies: Kristen Wiig’s physicist Erin Gilbert and Melissa McCarthy’s paranormal researcher Abby Yates have funny bits, but it’s Leslie Jones’ MTA officer Patty Tolan and Kate McKinnon’s quirky engineer Jillian Holtzmann who get the biggest laughs. It was also this movie that arguably certified Chris Hemsworth (as clueless receptionist Kevin)’s comedy chops—and that the MCU vet wasn’t afraid to laugh at himself. Original cast members make clever cameo appearances as well (although Murray’s feels like a missed opportunity). 

In 2021, director Jason Reitman (son of Ivan) commended Feig for “expanding" the franchise, even if it was divisive. But sometimes, those are the best lessons in moviegoing, especially with tentpoles like this.

Ghostbusters: Afterlife (2021) 

Originally scheduled for a 2020 theatrical release (and with help from a clever teaser trailer in 2019), this continuation of the genre-bending supernatural comedies from the 1980s was pushed back by over a year due to the COVID-19 pandemic. But as people were slowly heading back to the theaters, this new take from indie director Jason Reitman was a surprising pass of the baton to a new generation since Bill Murray, Dan Aykroyd, Harold Ramis, and Ernie Hudson first sported jumpsuits and proton packs, and caught various specters around New York City over 35 years before. 

In Ghostbusters: Afterlife, a struggling family (single mom Carrie Coon, teenage son Finn Wolfhard, and brainy daughter McKenna Grace) inherits an old farmhouse with a mysterious connection to one of the original members. Excitement and thrills abound within this nostalgic roller-coaster of a movie. It also works as an engrossing coming-of-age story about family dynamics, not to mention a moving dedication to the late Ramis. 

Paul Rudd is also terrific as a science teacher, while a new ghost named Muncher (who feeds on metal, and is voiced by Josh Gad) steals the show. The surround sound is booming, while the filmmakers strike a great balance of practical and digital effects (the Ectomobile has a gunner’s seat?!). Ghostbusters: Afterlife only falls short in its last act, where it plays more like fan service than an original concept. And it goes with saying the film has dark spiritual elements (more than the original film did, honestly) and some genuine jump scares. 

The more dramatic tone and small town vibe also has as much in common with Stranger Things and Poltergeist as it does with the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man (who appears in miniature, macabre form here). Overall, this was one of the best times I had at the movies (exclusively) in recent years. Am I ready to believe the next theatrical installment will have more originality? We’ll see. 

REVIEW: “Mad Max: Fury Road” (2015)

WRITER'S NOTE: A shorter version of this review was posted on my Instagram page @be.kerian on March 18, 2024. 

It had been thirty years since we last saw a Mad Max movie on the big screen, and seventeen since franchise co-creator George Miller directed a live-action feature. The question was, would audiences today be interested in seeing a new installment/iteration of this post-apocalyptic series that launched the career of original star Mel Gibson? 

Mad Max: Fury Road was said to have been one of the most difficult shoots in Hollywood history. Production was delayed several times due to budget concerns, location scouting, logistics, and safety. Filming lasted for over six months in the country of Namibia, with grueling weather conditions that ranged from scorching hot (during the day) to freezing cold (at night). And lead actors Tom Hardy (taking up the mantle this time as the wandering Max Rockatansky) and Charlize Theron (as the fearless and determined Imperator Furiosa) didn’t get along. To make matters worse, executives at Warner Bros. were skeptical—and dismayed—by early test footage. 

With that in mind, a better question was if this new Mad Max would actually be any good. As recounted in author Kyle Buchanan’s 2022 book, “Blood, Sweat & Chrome” (an in-depth and eye-opening oral history of the making of the film), Miller described the genesis of his years-in-the-making project this way: 

I was in Los Angeles, crossing the street, and this very simple idea popped in my head. What if there was a Mad Max movie that was one long chase, and the MacGuffin was human? Can you tell an entire story on the run, and how much of the backstory can you pick up on the way? The essential task was to see how rich the story could be while it’s on the road.

Miller added, 

In one way, it was surprisingly restricted: When you think about it, most of the key characters are sitting in the same spot all the time, and those vehicles are hurtling through the wasteland in some form of chase or race. Those sorts of restrictions are stylistically interesting as a filmmaker but also, it’s a very seductive world to work in because of the allegories. It’s all there for you.

So, is Fury Road any good? The answer: a phenomenal yes. Essentially a two-hour car chase (as Miller described), Fury Road pulls off the challenging feat of sustaining a narrative that’s in constant movement. (That's why they're called "moving pictures," right?) To describe the experience of watching it is like getting a (pardon the expression) humongous shot of adrenaline in your chest and going full-throttle. 

Originally written on storyboards (the filmmakers also seriously considered shooting in native 3-D), every character, vehicle design, and prop has a specific and unique function and history, not to mention real substance. As they did with The Road Warrior, the crew creatively took scraps and pieces of junk, and made them into works of art. Reportedly, 90 percent of the action and stunts (meticulously and expertly planned out) on screen were done practically, with post-production visual effects that removed safety wires, and added massive sandstorms and other compositing. (The same went for nighttime scenes, shot during the day but changed to a blue haze for the final movie.) And wait until you see the flame-throwing guitar and polecats! (I don’t think we’ve ever seen anything like that in movies before.) 

Yet, for all of its heart-pounding spectacle, the story (written by Miller, Brendan McCarthy, and dramaturgist Nico Lathouris) is rather simple and linear. Hardy's Max (haunted by memories and visions) may be the title character, but he really plays passenger while Theron's Furiosa is in the driver's seat, as she leads a dangerous trek to free a group of women from a violent warlord (the infamous and intimidating Immortan Joe, played by Hugh Keays-Burne) and to a Garden of Eden of sorts.

The film is so exhilarating and jaw-dropping that we’re more invested in the story, characters, and genuine stakes, rather than the behind-the-scenes drama. (Hardy and Theron reportedly resolved their differences near the end of production and have since apologized, especially after seeing the finished product.) Still, I don't know what's more amazing: the amount of effort and layers put into the making of this film, or that every single person who worked on it survived. It's a unique and incredible story of tenacity, persistence, integrity, and survival against overwhelming odds. Buchanan, perhaps, summed it up best, 

We go to the movies to be transported, and Fury Road takes us to the outer reaches of our imaginations . . . But the epic journey of [getting the film made] proved even more meaningful for the people who made it. What they had all accomplished by the skin of their teeth was a very rare thing indeed. (pp. 324) 

I would argue that Fury Road has more craft and substance than most action movies put together. Many contemporary filmmakers, like Guillermo del Toro and Bong Joon-Ho have declared it as one of the greatest films they’ve ever seen. Executive producer Iain Smith called it “a victory of filmmaking over studio expediency” (read Buchanan's book, pp. 290). Unlike, say, Apocalypse Now (which also had a tremendously difficult production, and a very depressing narrative), Fury Road is a film I could watch again and again, because it’s greater than the sum of its parts. (Which is not to take the otherwise complicated behind-the-scenes stories, nor the film’s violent nature, lightly or passively.) It's also a rare movie of its kind to get the recognition it did at the Academy Awards, maybe the first since The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King the previous decade. (Fury Road won six of its ten nominations, the most awarded to an Australian film to date.) Both were game-changing juggernauts on so many levels. Plus, a black-and-white "chrome" edition of Fury Road (which Miller himself favored more) was released in 2016, with its own unique and dynamic results. 

But it’s not a film for everybody, especially the squeamish. Because it's a two-hour chase, the action sequences are relentless, wild, and gonzo. They're the primary reason for the film's R-rating, with a high body count, a few sad deaths, and one particularly graphic moment. The subject matter is heavy, with references to sex slavery (the Five Wives wear revealing garbs for most of the story), human sacrifice (blood is a visual metaphor for life-stealing--hence, the "blood bags"--but also for life-giving), and suicidal fanatics (although, the pale-bodied Nux, played by Nicholas Hoult, does have a redemptive arc). 

For everyone else, they may find a lot of mythological and theological elements under the hood. There are themes of environmentalism and some biblical parallels (the aforementioned "Green Place" a.k.a. this story's Garden of Eden). Other themes include feminism, standing against those who abuse power (i.e., political, sexual, physical, spiritual), taking back what was stolen, facing the harsh realities of the world (“Out here, everything hurts”), and looking/fighting for hope and redemption—not just for the central characters, but also for a community or more. Just be sure to strap in. 

Oscars 2024: To the Unsung Heroes That Make the Movies

The cast and crew of Oppenheimer accept the award for Best Picture 
(Courtesy NPR) 

The 96th Academy Awards were another year of celebration and dedication. For starters, five previous award-winners each presented and commended each of the twenty acting nominees for the first time since 2010. Starting with Da'Vine Joy Randolph's Supporting Actress win for The Holdovers (a very inspiring way to begin the ceremony), several of this year's nominated films managed to take home at least one Oscar statue. 

Some of these films included Hayao Miyazaki's seven-years-in-the-making anime masterpiece The Boy and the Heron (a surprise victory against the more ambitious Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse), Justine Triet & Arthur Harari's original screenplay for their morally-ambiguous courtroom drama Anatomy of a Fall (that film's dog, Messi, was in the audience!), Jonathan Glazer's haunting Holocaust drama-thriller The Zone of Interest (which won Best International Feature, and for its chilling sound), Cord Jefferson's adapted screenplay for the sharp satire American Fiction, and Wes Anderson's short film adaptation of Roald Dahl's witty and entertaining The Wonderful Story of Henry Sugar. Jefferson even made an eye-opening (and worthwhile) call for other types of stories to be told, particularly low-budget independent features, and not just big-budget spectacles. (No offense, Christopher Nolan.) 

I was disappointed that Lily Gladstone didn't win Best Actress for her captivating, empathetic, and layered performance in Martin Scorsese's historical western-drama Killers of the Flower Moon. That honor went to Emma Stone, for her leading performance in Yorgos Lanthimos's dark fantasy Poor Things (which picked up additional trophies for its makeup, production design, and costumes). In fact, had Gladstone won, Scorcese's three-and-a-half-hour epic saga wouldn't have gone home empty-handed--a feat it now shares with the director's previous flick, The Irishman (also pushing the same runtime). And with last night's runtime. (Well, almost.) But all disappointment aside, Scorsese remains one of our master filmmakers and dedicated advocates for cinema. 

Getting back to the ceremony, Christopher Nolan's three-hour biopic Oppenheimer took home seven of its eleven nominations, including acting wins for Marvel vet Robert Downey Jr.'s supporting turn and DC vet Cillian Murphy's leading role (marking them the second and third people to win acting trophies for a Nolan feature, since Heath Ledger's posthumous win in 2009), Hoyte Van Hoytema's cinematography, Jennifer Lame's film editing, Ludwig Goransson's original score, Nolan's direction, and Best Picture. 

Billie Eilish (one of the best dressed that evening, along with Randolph, Ariana Grande, and Jon Batiste) and Finneas O'Connell gave a beautiful rendition of their Barbie ballad "What Was I Made For?" (which won Best Original Song, and was backed by an incredible orchestra). But it was Ryan Gosling who stole the show with his hilarious and well-choreographed performance of "I'm Just Ken". (It was extra fun watching him share the mic with co-stars Margot Robbie and America Ferrera, and director Greta Gerwig.) 

There were also some terrific reunions amongst presenters and/or nominees throughout the evening, including Twins and former Batman villains Arnold Schwarzenegger & Danny DeVito (one of the biggest laughs of the night), Beetlejuice alums Michael Keaton & Catherine O'Hara (who will be reprising their respective roles later this year), WWE pros John Cena (who had, perhaps, the most awkward moment of the night) and Dwayne Johnson backstage, and Best Picture presenter Al Pacino with Nolan and co-producer Emma Thomas (for the first time since the 2002 psychological thriller Insomnia). Pacino, however, seemed to rush opening the envelope without acknowledging the other nominees (although, I have seen this twice before, when Tom Hanks presented the award to The Hurt Locker in 2010, or when the late, great British actor Sir Laurence Olivier presented the statue to Amadeus in 1985). 

But more importantly, "Barbenheimer" reps Emily Blunt and Ryan Gosling were just two of the many presenters and/or winners (along with host Jimmy Kimmel) to salute the unsung heroes who make movies happen, from stunt performers to crew members and orchestra players. The same goes for real-life heroes, including teachers and educators (i.e., Billie Eilish's win, Best Documentary Short winner The Last Repair Shop), and those fighting and advocating for various causes around the world. Ukrainian filmmaker Mstyslav Chernov (Best Documentary Feature winner for the harrowing 20 Days in Mariupol), perhaps, said it best: "Cinema forms memories, and memories form history." Cillian Murphy also dedicated his Oscar "to the peacemakers everywhere" around the world. 

Amidst all the praise, glamour, and recognition, we should do the same. 

REVIEW COLLECTION: “Mad Max”—The Original Trilogy

(Courtesy Google Search)

Mad Max (1979) 

Movies about car chases and stunts reached new heights with this sleeper flick about a post-apocalyptic future ruled by road gangs and patrolled by remaining highway officers, including the relentless Max Rockatansky. Mad Max not only marked the directorial debut of former medical doctor (and Australian native) George Miller, but also the debut of its leading man, the American-born Mel Gibson. More accurately, the setting of this fast-paced story is a small town, with truck shops, diners and police stations still intact, and what remains of a contemporary civilization but slowly becoming a wasteland. 

The high points of this film are its car chases and crazy stunts (including an iconic crash through a white camper). Everything is on display: cars, motorcycles, trucks, you name it. Following Steve McQueen in Bullitt and Gene Hackman in The French Connection, Gibson’s Max is a man of few words, but with a lot to say physically, as he goes toe-to-toe with various kinds of psychopathic criminals—ruthless, sadistic, and exploitive. Metaphorical snakes, if you will. Miller has described Mad Max as “a silent picture with sound,” and as “a western in new clothes.” (Read IMDb trivia.) Agreeably, the film is full of kinetic energy and thunderous impact. 

Brian May’s score is equal parts action-fueled, emotional (particularly with Max’s family life), and at times terrifying (like a horror show); one gang scene involves a meat cleaver, and another a target practice on a naked statue. There are other scenes of nudity as well; others reveal bloody after-effects. Then there’s that split-second shot of one character’s bulging eyeballs. 

Max’s character changes over the course of the film, from determined to traumatized to vengeful; from hero to anti-hero. It’s a brilliant three-act structure, no doubt. But a bleak and ambiguous one, at that. In other words, Mad Max is a slow-burn thriller under the hood. 

The Road Warrior (1981) 

One of the rare sequels to improve on its predecessor in just about every way. Thanks to a bigger budget and more creative freedom for director George Miller and his team, The Road Warrior (a.k.a. Mad Max 2) shifts into higher, full-throttle gears of action, adrenaline, mythology, history, and sociology. Furthermore, this is the Mad Max chapter that set the standard for what this cinematic world represents: a post-apocalyptic setting of a desert wasteland, scrappy colonies, and global loss. 

Max continues his existential journey as a steampunk “Lone Ranger” (with a dog as his only companion), in a future where people fight for gasoline, and even dog food is used for meals. The film provides another commendable three-act structure, which involves Max wandering the dusty highways, running into a community of desperate survivors, and ultimately helping those people, if only to get himself out of the situation. Even so, the traumatized, former police officer is asked about what he’s looking for, and what his purpose is. He’s even offered an opportunity to start a new life. 

More significantly, The Road Warrior succeeds as an even more engrossing “silent picture with sound,” as Miller once called the first film. It has strong sound design and editing, not to mention massive and insane set pieces, as well as gripping chase sequences. But it also contains a few jump scares, some brief images of nudity (including one rape scene), and some bloody results. 

The filmmakers came up with more unique (and standout) vehicle designs and crazy costumes, whether for the antagonistic gangs (led by the bulked-up Lord Humungus, whose hockey mask predates horror icon Jason Voorhees), the aerial scrapper that Max keeps running into (veteran character actor Bruce Spence), or the survivors looking for a better world—a promised land, a Garden of Eden. As the saying goes, it’s a long road ahead. 

TRIVIAL FACT: Late cinematographer Andrew Lesnie (a frequent collaborator of Peter Jackson) worked on this film earlier in his career, and is credited as “Documentary Cameraman.”

Mad Max Beyond Thunderdome (1985) 

This third chapter in the original Mad Max saga leans more into mythology and world building than in action. TV director George Ogilvie assists franchise co-creator George Miller behind the camera this time around. And as the first and only PG-13 entry in the series, Mad Max Beyond Thunderdome feels like two movies for the price of one. 

In one corner is a society that gets its fuel from pig manure and holds gladiatorial matches to the death in the titular arena. Running this show is the charismatic Auntie Entity (played by Tina Turner, in her screen debut), who uses the elusive road warrior (Mel Gibson takes up the mantel one last time—and with longer hair) to take back control of her community from a supposedly-fierce competitor. (Max is just looking for supplies that were stolen from him.) In the other corner is a tribal society of lost children, waiting and hoping for a lost war pilot a la Lord of the Flies or Peter Pan’s Lost Boys of Neverland. (I wonder if Steven Spielberg was inspired by this movie when he made Hook years later.) 

Definitely a product of its era (in style and tone), Thunderdome is a bit uneven and tamer than its predecessors, but a distinct and dynamic vision from a brilliant filmmaker nonetheless. Instead of mostly automotive action, it’s more about adventure and discovering a larger world. But that doesn’t mean it’s devoid of ambitious set pieces, including the titular match, and the climactic chase sequence (complete with a thunderous score). Plus, it’s incredible hearing Turner’s voice over the soundtrack (including the profound anthem, “We Don’t Need Another Hero”). 

Beyond Thunderdome was reportedly the inspiration for Dr. Dre & Tupac Shakur’s 1995 music video for their rap hit, “California Love”. Two years after this film, Gibson helped launch another successful franchise with Richard Donner’s buddy-cop action flick, Lethal Weapon, opposite Danny Glover. 

REVIEW COLLECTION: Legacy of the “Planet of the Apes” Part 1

(Courtesy Pixels Merch)

Planet of the Apes (1968) 

A trio of American astronauts, on a special mission deep in space, crash land on a strange planet ruled by human-sized primates, while people there are enslaved or used for sport. That’s the premise of the original 1963 novel, La Planète des singes, by French author Pierre Boulle, and the basis for the groundbreaking film adaptation released five years later. 

From a screenplay by Rod Serling and Michael Wilson, and under the direction of Franklin J. Schaffner (not to mention Steadicam cinematography by Leon Shamroy), Planet of the Apes was headlined by screen legend Charlton Heston, as lead astronaut Taylor. Though known for such larger-than-life figures as Moses and Judah Ben-Hur, Taylor is a much more complex role for Heston to flex his acting muscles—and literally, since many of his scenes involve him being shirtless or in dirty rags—as he searches for answers to how this mysterious civilization came to be. 

Planet of the Apes is most famous for its impressive makeup effects by John Chambers and his team. And they’ve managed to convincingly pull off not one but three different species of monkeys, from scientist chimpanzees (including Kim Hunter’s Zira and Roddy McDowell’s Cornelius) to militaristic gorillas and politician orangutans (led by Maurice Evan’s commanding Dr. Zaius). 

But the film has so much more going on underneath all that makeup and world-building. This is a thoroughly-engrossing science-fiction tale with challenging themes of evolution, power, class, religion, enslavement, and destruction. (Reportedly, that first sight of apes on horseback, as well as Heston’s oft-quoted line in their presence, and the shocking twist at the end, were and remain jaw-dropping moments in cinema.) The result is haunting and thought-provoking. 

It’s also worth noting that, while this film (and most of its sequels) received a “G” rating upon release, this is not really a child-friendly movie, due to scenes of nudity, sexuality (including Linda Harrison’s mute Nova), language, and intense action and violence. Not to mention a pervasive sense of chills and thrills. That would be a madhouse for the little ones.

Beneath the Planet of the Apes (1970) 

20th Century Fox followed up the successful Planet of the Apes with this lackluster (and stranger) sequel that centered on a different astronaut, on a rescue mission, who eventually discovers a secret underground society of telepathic people. Beginning exactly where the last film ended, Taylor (Charlton Heston, in a rather small role) suddenly disappears, leaving his mate Nova (Linda Harrison, once again) on a search for help. She soon meets Brent (an engaging James Franciscus, who bears a resemblance to Heston), and they both not only try to survive the present ape society (on its way to war, apparently), but are shocked at the discovery of a secret world deep into the “Forbidden Zone” that (gasp) worships an atomic bomb. 

Maurice Evans (Dr. Zaius) and Kim Hunter (Zira) reprise their respective roles from the first movie. And there are some thought-provoking themes about characters contemplating what they’ve lost or left behind, as well as political or ethical conflicts between intelligence and morality. The same with prejudice, power and control. 

Whereas the first film was Grade A, Beneath the Planet of the Apes is B-level moviemaking, both visually and viscerally. Several obvious green screen effects (from lightning strikes to earthquakes and firestorms) are dated, as is the film’s sexual imagery and revealing garbs (including a scene of implied and forced rape?). As soon as our main characters discover what was once an underground subway station, the movie loses it from there, thanks, in part, to fast editing and a screeching sound design. 

This cult of Doomsday worshippers—and it is clearly a cult, with creepy and radiated skin—confuse peace with malevolence, and thereby mentally force others to kill each other.) That’s messed up. With more of an emphasis on man-made religion and destruction, Beneath has one of the most depressing and nihilistic endings of any film—certainly in this original series. This was reportedly Heston’s idea, as he believed it would not guarantee any more installments. Be careful what you wish for. 

Escape From the Planet of the Apes (1971) 

Considered by many to be the best of the Apes sequels, Escape From the Planet of the Apes opens with scientist chimpanzees Zira and Cornelius (Kim Hunter and Roddy McDowell, the latter of whom couldn’t be in the previous movie due to scheduling conflicts) as they, along with a fellow doctor, crash land from the future into present day California. What follows is a subversive franchise entry that embraces more comedic aspects while retaining the series’ trademark surprise/shock factor. 

A subplot explains that the three primates found one of the American spaceships (from the previous films), fixed it up, and managed to escape earth just before a nuclear explosion that destroyed the planet. A bit far-fetched, perhaps. But it sets the stage for an exceptional three-act structure in which our sole ape characters are embraced by the general public and bask in various trends and culture of the time (the story actually takes place in 1973), including fashion, television, sports, women’s rights, and museums. But Zira and Cornelius eventually go on the run once dark secrets of a possible future are revealed and those in power label them as threats to human civilization, especially since Zira is expecting a child. 

Escape also counts as something of a reboot in this series, as it deals with time travel and relevant fears of the unknown, including the future. As one character asks, “Given the power to alter the future, have we the right to use it?” The screenplay (written by Paul Dehn) even throws in discussions about the nature of evil and the existence of God, but not passively. And it does all of these things with genuine character development, conflict, and emotional and moral stakes. “We think we have all the time in the world,” argues a political official, “How much time does the world got?” 

But because this is a Planet of the Apes story, it also has tragedy. Not only does one character or more apparently condone suicide in one scene, but the tension and suspense throughout the film’s third act boils to a sad finish. Then again, the chimps did have Ricardo Montalban’s circus manager Armando on their side.

Conquest of the Planet of the Apes (1972) 

The Planet of the Apes series took a daring and controversial turn with a fourth installment in the early-1970s. Roddy McDowell headlined this darker chapter, this time as Caesar, the son of simians Cornelius and Zira. Set in the year 1991 (or rather, a 1970s version of the future, and 20 years after the events of Escape), the human-ape roles have been reversed—primates are enslaved, and fearful or controlling human beings try to keep them in check and prevent a reported apocalypse. 

Caesar’s existence and true identity—no other ape can speak but him—is unknown to everyone else, except for his kind-hearted master and circus friend Armando (Ricardo Montalban, once again). But after a heated public incident nearly blows their cover, the two are forced to split up and blend in with society. As Armando is interrogated, Caesar is horrified by the cruelty his brethren face on a daily basis. But step by step, he spreads the word about a plan to fight back and free his fellow captives. 

This is a story where police officers and other authority figures are the villains (which is hard to watch, given the numerous related headlines our culture has seen in recent years). Moments involving torture and beatings are one thing. But when the central rebellion really gets going, it’s relentlessly violent and polarizing. One of the lone exceptions in this batch of human characters is the governor’s right-hand man, McDonald (played by Hari Rhodes), who reveals unexpected motives that make him a trustworthy and empathetic figure. He even has two of the film’s best moments, evoking humanity in the midst of all the chaos and slaughter. 

Conquest of the Planet of the Apes was the first and only PG-rated sequel in the series. But it should stand as further proof that these films were never really for children. McDowell once compared this sequel to other gritty films of its era, such as Dirty Harry and The French Connection. With scenes involving weapons, gunfire, explosions, property damage, one suicide, and a main character who ultimately becomes the future that humanity feared (very haunting), it’s not hard to see why.

Battle for the Planet of the Apes (1973) 

The final installment in the original series, Battle for the Planet of the Apes proceeds the devastating events of Conquest—twelve years after an atomic explosion ignites a war between simians and mutated human adversaries. In this chapter, Caesar (Roddy McDowell, one last time) leads a community of surviving apes (including his chimpanzee wife Lisa, orangutan confidant Virgil, and militaristic gorilla Aldo) and allied human beings. 

Screen veteran John Huston makes an appearance as the eponymous “Lawgiver,” who recounts the events from the previous two films. In those respects, Escape, Conquest, and Battle form their own trilogy within this franchise, culminating in a battle between not only man and beast, but also ape against ape. Caesar even journeys to a “Forbidden City” to look for answers to his past, and soon comes face to face with (what looks like) a former assistant to the governor from Conquest. 

Other themes include religion, the nature of good and evil, the reality of war, power, control, and what it means to be human. But Battle feels like it retreads familiar territory. It’s a very dialogue-driven piece, and, perhaps, the tamest of all the Apes films by comparison. Still, it does contain scenes of intense violence (predating Mad Max and The Terminator), including one tragic, merciless death (a moment that’s reiterated later on, supposedly going against what the central community stands for). 

The success of this franchise (around the same time as James Bond and Star Trek) soon led to an animated television series, a successful merchandising campaign, an insightful behind-the-scenes documentary in 1998 (one of McDowell’s last on-camera appearances before his death that year), and a hilarious parody on an episode of The Simpsons. Talk about monkey-see-monkey-do. 

REVIEW COLLECTION: Six x Seuss

(Courtesy Reddit)

WRITER’S NOTE: In honor of Dr. Seuss’ birthday this weekend, here is a look back on the six films that were adapted from his original works. Except for the last one, the following reviews were originally posted on my Instagram page @be.kerian. 

(Courtesy Columbia Pictures) 

The 5,000 Fingers of Dr. T. (1953) 

While several children’s books written by Theodore Geisel a.k.a. Dr. Seuss had been adapted into animated shorts throughout the 20th Century, none of them were made into live-action movies in the author’s lifetime. The lone exception was an original musical conceived and co-written by Geisel in the early-1950s. But it reportedly wasn’t a very good experience. 

The story of The 5,000 Fingers of Dr. T. centers on a boy named Bart Collins (a play on Bartholomew Cubbins, portrayed by Tommy Rettig), bored by piano lessons from his overbearing and strict teacher, who escapes into a surreal and sinister dream world ruled by the maniacal Dr. Terwilliker (Hans Conried, best known as the voice of Captain Hook in Walt Disney’s Peter Pan that same year). 

The film’s set and costume designs are impressive, impeccable, and grand, with clever homages to Seuss’s Hunches in Bunches, very witty lyrics (“What Marvelous Weather”), an extravagant sequence involving non-piano players in green makeup, and the centerpiece involving hundreds of child extras and wacky sounds galore. It may just have the largest and most unique piano ever constructed for a mainstream feature film. 

The story is full of moments that start but don’t seem to quite finish, as if each character is dragging from one thing to the next. While it seems to critique the roles of adults/parents and children, and portrays music playing as a chore or slave drive, 5,000 Fingers isn’t quite sure what kind of story it wants to. Much of this is due to the entire film being reportedly reworked and re-edited. Geisel subsequently refused to have Hollywood make any more live-action versions of his work, a stipulation that his widow, Audrey Geisel, kept after the author’s death in 1991. That is, until the turn of the century. (But that’s another story.) 

TRIVIAL FACT: The 2001 DVD release of 5,000 Fingers includes the 1953 UPA short, Gerald McBoing-Boing’s Symphony, a superb piece of animation that I found livelier by comparison. 

(Courtesy Universal Pictures)

How the Grinch Stole Christmas (2000) 

It was one of the most anticipated movies at the turn of the century. Not to mention one of the biggest Hollywood productions in years, with hundreds of actors in makeup and prosthetics, and sets that brought a beloved author’s iconic illustrations and characters to life. The resulting live-action version of Dr. Seuss’s How the Grinch Stole Christmas, directed by Ron Howard, is highly divisive. 

The positives, for starters, include the incredible art direction, production design, and costumes, as well as Rick Baker’s award-winning makeup for Jim Carrey’s ever-infamous curmudgeon and the many citizens of Who-ville. To be sure, the film works on its own, and it has heart (thanks to James Horner’s wondrous score, and the moving “Where Are You, Christmas?”). And even though his schtick and voice can get old at times, Carrey still delivers some clever improvised bits, fourth-wall gags, and other now-iconic moments (“5 o’clock, solve world hunger. Tell no one”). 

That being said, you can really see the hand of Hollywood all over this production. This 2000 box-office hit extends the narrative with a creepy and sad backstory for the Grinch, the addition of a love interest (and some unnecessary innuendos and subtle adult jokes), making the Whos more consumeristic, and giving Cindy Lou-Who (Taylor Momsen, in her screen debut) a larger role. Plus, the Grinch’s main heist doesn’t really begin until the last act of the film. 

Carrey himself has admitted that he regrets some of the aforementioned gags in this PG-rated family comedy, while Seuss’s widow Audrey Geisel consulted over script rewrites and input at best. She did, on the other hand, approve of Carrey’s casting and the incredible crew work behind-the-scenes. Which is why it’s a shame that the overall tone is edgy. The movie may be funny, imaginative, and heartwarming, but this big-budget spectacle ain’t got nothing on the simple cartoon. 

(Courtesy Universal Pictures/DreamWorks Pictures)

The Cat in the Hat (2003) 

I really wanted to like this movie. And there was every reason to. It was only the second live-action film adaptation of a beloved Dr. Seuss book (consisting of 220 words and 31 colorful illustrations). It starred an iconic comedic actor in the title role (Mike Myers). And its sets were impeccable and whimsical. Plus, I’m a Dr. Seuss fan at heart. Which is why this 2003 flick was so disappointing. 

Picture the most imaginative sets being treated like giant litter boxes. This may look like a Seuss story, which reimagines the classic tale of a brother and sister who, home alone on a rainy day, get visited by a mysterious and mischievous feline. But it feels and acts nothing like it. (The lone exceptions are the charming animated logos during the opening credits, and Victor Brandt’s fitting Seussian narration.) Instead, the filmmakers litter the screen with uncalled-for innuendos, mean-spirited hijinks (one sequence has the Cat cutting his tail with a meat cleaver), shameless product plugs, and lowbrow potty humor. And a disgusting gut. For a book that originally taught children how to have fun while reading, this movie is nothing more than encouraging them to misbehave. 

Myers’ non-stop riffing (an impersonation of Bert Lahr’s Cowardly Lion from The Wizard of Oz) gets old fast. Thing One and Thing Two are just creepy. The main kids, Sally and Conrad (Dakota Fanning and Spencer Breslin, respectively), aren’t even likable. And the supporting cast (including Sean Hayes as a germophobic boss and Alec Baldwin as a snooty neighbor) is lame. Only a few climactic moments work (“You don’t know when enough is enough!”). 

Film critic Leonard Martin believes this movie betrayed everything Dr. Seuss stood for, and that the inclusion of his name in the title was and is insulting. It was this flick that prompted Seuss’s widow, Audrey Geisel, to put an end to any future live-action movies based on her late husband’s work. And for good reason. Next, it was back to animation. 

(Courtesy 20th Century Fox)

Horton Hears a Who! (2008) 

This CGI flick from the late-2000s was hardly the first to translate a Dr. Seuss book into an animated feature. (That distinction goes to Bob Clampett’s 1942 take on “Horton Hatches the Egg”.) But “Horton Hears a Who” arguably proved that the medium was the best way to adapt Ted Geisel’s unique characters and literary worlds. 

“Horton” is a visual delight. It’s a brilliant showcase for Blue Sky Animation’s photorealistic techniques (including water and fur), walking a fine line between lifelike and cartoony. The film itself has its moments, and a terrific voice cast (Steve Carell is perfect as the Mayor of Who-ville). As only the third feature-film adaptation of Seuss’s books, it’s the most audience-friendly pick, with clever, seamless Seussian narration by Charles Osgood, and a colorful score by John Powell. 

But it has the hand of Hollywood all over it. In spite of its G-rating and accolades from critics and audiences, its tone is broad and edgy. For one thing, the Sour Kangaroo (voiced by Carol Burnett) comes across as mean and cruel. A few pop culture references feel out of place (REO Speedwagon’s “Can’t Fight This Feeling,” anybody?). And while I’m a lifelong fan of Jim Carrey, I’m not sure if he was the person to voice Horton. I’ve always pictured the delightful pachyderm as a good-natured and humble character. Carrey’s voiceover does those things, but he plays Horton as overly-excited and exaggerated. But that’s just my opinion. 

On the other hand, the way the filmmakers handle the story’s themes of faith, doubt, perseverance against all odds (even in the face of death), and integrity (biblical parallels can be drawn from them as well) are commendable and worthwhile. 

(Courtesy Universal Pictures) 

The Lorax (2012) 

Dr. Seuss books are natural fits for musicals. (Lest we forget, there was, in fact, a stage production in the early-2000s, titled Seussical, which they still need to make into a movie.) The 2012 CGI take on Geisel’s 1971 tale The Lorax (courtesy Illumination) was technically the first official feature-length Seuss musical (previous films had at least one musical segment). The songs by composer John Powell and co-writer Cinco Paul aren’t memorable, but they are intriguing, well-written, and progress the story. (The comically-dark “How Bad Can I Be” is a standout.) 

The movie features the voices of Zac Efron (as protagonist Ted), Taylor Swift (as the girl next door he tries to impress), Betty White (as an optimistic grandmother), and Danny DeVito (as the titular creature). Ed Helms voices the Once-ler, who’s given a face and a more likable personality (a significant liberty from the book) and a hillbilly-esque family. The writers even go so far as making him and the Lorax friends before all the destruction happens. 

The additional of a plastic-filled town called “Thneedville” (based on the material from the ever-popular truffula trees) is amusing, adding to the story’s commentary on commercialism, greed, and the damaging effects on nature and life. But the addition of an antagonistic business tycoon O’Hare (voiced by comedian Rob Riggle) leaves little to be desired, and reduces some of the story’s wit and creativity. (The Once-ler’s scenes as an older man work much better.) 

If I’m being honest, I truly believe Hollywood doesn’t fully understand Dr. Seuss. Sure, they get the look and character designs right. (And The Lorax has bright and gorgeous animation, to be sure.) But they feel and act like generic or lukewarm variations, which explains this movie. At least The Lorax is age-appropriate and mild enough for its target audience of children and families, with some nice messages about owning up to mistakes, and about caring and stewardship. Not bad at all. 

(Courtesy Universal Pictures)

The Grinch (2018) 

Let me be honest: I still think a great adaptation of a Dr. Seuss book is yet to be made. It would be amazing to see a visionary filmmaker that has a lot in common with the author's originality and whimsy. Say, Wes Anderson or Spike Jonze. That being said, I enjoyed the latest version of The Grinch. It's wonderfully animated. It has a terrific voice cast, including Benedict Cumberbatch as the titular "Mean One.” And it continues Illumination's reputation as a first-rate studio that specializes in fun culture and character-driven stories that audiences of any age can appreciate.

Instead of expanding the Grinch's background like they did in the live-action version, this one restrains certain elements that give enough of an idea of why the green miser chooses to "steal Christmas" from the Whos of Who-ville. It also pays homage to the Chuck Jones short with the iconic songs (and in Danny Elfman's magical score), and by portraying the Whos as sweet and not as superficial consumers. Purists may balk at the way the film modernizes the story, or the music by Pharrell Williams (who narrates) and Tyler the Creator. 

But if I've learned anything about books and movies, it's that, while they may take certain liberties, as long as the author's vision and the story's center drive everything, it's alright. For what it's worth, the characters in this version (compared with the other Seuss-related movies) aren't overly exaggerated or pointless (e.g., Cindy Lou Who is portrayed as a little girl with a single mom and two brothers). 

Stephen King once said, "Movies and books are apples and oranges. They're ‘delicious,' but they don't taste the same." The Grinch is more of a holiday treat as opposed to poetic produce. But it’s one of those rare cases where the movie works on its own. Though far from a great movie, The Grinch may currently be the best movie version of a Dr. Seuss book. It's certainly the most endearing.