Classic Review: Twelve Angry Men

Summary: An absolutely boiling drama that has stood the test of time, and goes to show that great cinema thrives under limitations.

Review: Great films don’t stand only as examples of what films can or should be; they stand also to condemn every film produced with venal intentions for apathetic audiences.  This is not because a great film would attract audiences if it were released instead, but because far too often lesser material is rewarded while exceptional work is ignored.  What matters, however, is the pictures’ enduring memory.  ‘Twelve Angry Men’, the first film directed by Sidney Lumet, was released in April 1957 to critical acclaim but box office disappointment.  I ask you, what else came out on the thirteenth of that month in that year that is as enduring as this film?  Why would a screenplay this electric with a cast this matchless go without popular response?  I have no clue.  The good news is that popular and critical reaction would soon match up.  The bad news, at least for whatever stood in competition for its box office dollars, is that apparently only ‘Twelve Angry Men’ survived.

Some films demand spectacle, action, sexual chemistry and endless stanzas of visual poetry.  They need these things to exist.  What ‘Twelve Angry Men’ proves is that the most essential dramatic element, stakes that create suspense, can thrive in a visual environment as small as a single room.  The story doesn’t demand more, but it puts other stories that have more but lack legitimate tension to shame.  ‘Twelve Angry Men’ is nothing but dialog, but it has more impact than a dozen car crashes in a brainless, gutless action movie.  With actions as simple as frowns and glances, a war wages in this single room that captivates the viewer, with compelling moral, logical arguments and severe emotional consequences.  Every character is challenged, so that everyone in the audience is challenged.  You will question yourself, your prejudices, and your approach to justice.  The screenplay almost guarantees that.

And perhaps this is why it was not a box office success.  We like to pretend that audiences have grown more or less sophisticated over the years, depending on the arguments we are making at the moment, but in fact people have not changed.  By and large, sophisticated stories are ignored, only for word-of-mouth to redeem them at a later time when it is too late to reward the producers for their financial risk.  While it is true that filmmakers are getting their money back from home video sales, producers still view the box office as the measure of a film’s worth.  This is changing, but the push for 3D and IMAX technologies shows that filmmakers want theatrical vindication of their investment.  So many, arguably most, future classics are small features, like ants carrying many times their own weight.  Truly exceptional movies that also make hundreds of millions in box office are rare.  Most hits are, ironically, forgettable.

But I digress.  The reason for my tangents is that it is difficult to say more about ‘Twelve Angry Men’ than has already been said by much sharper analysts.  What I can say is this: the cast and crew worked with a smaller toolbox than are afforded most projects, and they delivered something truly special.  Its intimacy and emphasis on character gives an immersion that 3D technology can never match.  It is so true to life and so damn engaging that there is nothing left to improve, except perhaps removing the superfluous musical score, which intrudes a couple of times and doesn’t add anything of substance.  This makes for an ironic flaw in contrast to other films and their poor use of musical resources; ‘Twelve Angry Men’ had a limited toolbox, and ended up with just one tool too many!  The harmony between Sidney Lumet’s direction and Reginald Rose’s screenplay makes the real music here.

This movie should be required viewing for up-and-coming filmmakers.  If you’re interested in writing screenplays, I urge you to watch this film and study the most insignificant details.  This is a taut, perfectly calibrated symphony of cinema.  If you can do as well, do so, and don’t compromise.  History will vindicate you.

Classic Review: The Lord of the Rings Trilogy

Summary:  A superb adaptation, the most suitable cinematic echo of Tolkien’s immutable trilogy, and one of the greatest epics ever put to film.

Review: In setting out to review Peter Jackson’s adaptation of Tolkien’s supreme fantasy epic, I’m forced to consider the three films in their entirety (i.e. the extended editions) and as one work, because unlike other famous trilogies such as, say, ‘Star Wars’, the studio didn’t wait to pursue a sequel after a successful first installment — it was a single gamble from the beginning, and divided only by marketing and logistical necessity, as with the source material.

But to tackle such a monumental work, something that is so inseparable from my personal development, a little biographical reflection is necessary.

Tolkien first captured my imagination when I was about 9 years old, as I read his playful ‘The Hobbit’, the witty, straightforward adventure that serves as the prelude to ‘The Lord of the Rings’.  As anticipation built for the upcoming film trilogy, I absorbed the giddy excitement of my friends through osmosis, and plunged into the thick prose of the greater work with gusto.  I came out the other side somewhat changed, in ways I of course can only now appreciate.  Being an imaginative boy, I had always loved fantasy, but Tolkien’s lengendarium was different — it had substance, having in fact less in common with strict fantasy than history.  What Middle-Earth lacked in physical reality in made up for in spiritual truth — both in the religious sense and the broader rational sense.  I would never touch The Shire, but it was nevertheless solid to me.

When ‘The Fellowship of the Ring’ hit theaters, I was simply too young to handle the emotional intensity of it, and so I had to rely on the secondhand experience of my older brother, my parents, and my friends.  To me, it was like hearing from people who had visited Middle-Earth, and could describe it as fresh observers.  I relived the book, again, from the perspective of a witness.

A habit of mine at the time was to stay up way too late and wait for the creative part of my brain, perhaps in want of the dream-state, to be released.  Then I would write, draw, and imagine with the freedom only a child can possess.  As if I needed any more motivation, ‘The Lord of the Rings’ in its two forms, literary and witnessed, inspired a new burst of creativity, as I intuitively sought to capture the emotions of reading the novels, the anticipation of revisiting the world in a new way, hearing about it from friends, and finally seeing it.  To the point, Jackson wasn’t just adapting the story I loved, he was adapting me — into a filmmaker.

My fate was sealed when ‘The Fellowship of the Ring’ was released on DVD.  The experience was everything I wanted, and more.  It was actually not as though the filmmakers had reached into my imagination and created my vision of Middle-Earth — the dissonance, in fact, made it more profound.  The emotional intensity was great, but my absorption into the world was complete, and I believed once again.  A great film is like a stage magic act — you know that somehow the artist has fabricated what you are seeing, but the method escapes your notice, and the thrill of magic, the mystery of it, appears.  The magician is at the top of his form when you most want to be like him.  The best thing a magician or a filmmaker can win is not applause, nor critical adulation, nor an apostle, but an apprentice.

The second most beautiful thing about ‘The Lord of the Rings’ films is that the filmmakers never compromise on the level of graphic detail that is present in the source material.  The plot is highly condensed, and with good reason; Tolkien’s dense, meandering prose is impossible to translate beat-for-beat to cinema.  What works for an invented history does not work for narrative film, even one that stretches 726 minutes.  The story itself survives.  Filmmakers should always understand story in the sense of a retelling, as if you had to explain everything that really mattered in a short amount of time.  Proper film craft stresses  economy and emotion.  When the key emotions are tied up in how real the world feels, it takes a special effort to achieve immersion.  Here Tolkien’s description and the filmmakers’ production design synchronize; the visuals suggest all the depth of history that Jackson never has a chance to share with us.

By far the best quality of the trilogy is the cast.  Their chemistry is fantastic.  Not a single actor is miscast.  It’s clear from the extensive behind-the-scenes material that they grew into a family.  There’s not a relationship, scene, or line that feels wrong.  If life did not so directly compliment the art, these films would not work.  There’s no such thing as a flawless film, only a film you can’t quit.  ‘The Lord of the Rings’ is highly addictive.  Like the original ‘Star Wars’ trilogy, the people give this production, which could have easily collapsed under its own weight, such soul that the story transcends standard cinematic storytelling.  In this way, its emotional detail alone equals the historical detail of the novels.  You couldn’t hope for a better adaptation.

Considering the films as a single experience, it becomes much more difficult to criticize the weaker sections of the narrative, in particular the ending.  In the theater, I did not begrudge Jackson’s decision to follow Tolkien to the Grey Havens.  Later on, as other viewers complained that it was too long and perhaps too sad, I flipped over.  Now I’ve flopped back.  I understand why the long ending is the right one.  After all the darkness and despair, to transform the final section of the film into a potion of joy through a veil of sadness  — well, I think it’s obvious that it’s poetry.  Heck, the ending is kind of short in the proper perspective.

‘The Lord of the Rings’ is the ‘Star Wars’ of my generation, because obviously the ill-conceived prequels were not.  All things considered, I’m pretty happy with that.  ‘The Lord of the Rings’ pushed filmmaking craft forward in all the right ways, with a timeless story at its core, and it is undoubtedly a classic, one epic to rule them all.

Cult Classic: Tron

Stars: ★★★★

Summary: An innovative milestone and the father of many philosophical tangents, ‘Tron’ is valuable, aesthetically intriguing science fiction.

 

Review:  Science fiction is at its best when it permits us to review — literally, “see again” — the real world.  It’s not always about illuminating philosophy.  Sometimes it’s about challenging us to believe, just as long as we may, that there is an unseen world that coexists with our own.  It’s not necessarily that this supposed world is supernatural, but by contrast it seems incredible.  For Disney’s bomb-turned-classic ‘Tron’, the tagline sums up this conceit magnanimously: “A world inside the computer, where man has never been — never before now.”  Chalk that up as one of my favorite taglines in cinema history, just as provocative as “You will believe a man can fly”.  Does the movie measure up to it?

To my delight, yes.  It is a successful example of intelligent conceptualization and world-building.  The best word I can use to describe ‘Tron’ is iconic.  It revels in its imagery, visual and conceptual, to the plot’s degradation.  The story is good, but it meanders, if only to allow the audience the privilege of seeing all the CGI that 1982 could muster.  Yes, today, the film looks dated, but this isn’t a bad thing.  It adds a layer of nostalgia to the cake.  What’s great about the primitive CGI, in itself, is that it lets us see the naked architecture.  Lines are all-important in ‘Tron’s aesthetic.  This is, after all, “The Grid”, the combat zone of arcade games of yore.  There’s a distinctive spirit to vintage arcades, and ‘Tron’ may be its definitive cinematic incarnation.

I said the story is good, and not just because it complicates and untangles satisfactorily.  ‘Tron’ is philosophically complex, yet it doesn’t explore every question raised, sparking mental tangents which I’m sure have contributed to the film’s growing popularity.  The world of ‘Tron’ is populated by programs, each of whom has a relationship with its human user, which the programs perceive from afar as gods.  This has sobering implications in real life, with computer technology evolving at an incredible rate, and a growing number of scientists assuring us that true artificial intelligence, nay, artificial life is just around the proverbial corner.  How will we respond to a thinking being that recognizes us as its life-giver?  ‘Tron’ doesn’t answer this question.  Raising it may be enough.  But I digress.  In ‘Tron’, programs are created in the user’s image, literally.  They act as the user’s avatar, yet think of themselves as distinct persons, perhaps unaware of their resemblance to the humans they idolize.  The film’s plot centers on the Master Control Program, or MCP, who rebels against his user and seeks to extend his control beyond his system.  To this end, the MCP cuts off all contact between programs and users, calling the vital relationship an obsolete superstition.  He even goes so far as to pit rebel programs against each other in gladiatorial combat.  Jeff Bridges’ character, user Kevin Flynn, tries to confront the MCP and gets digitized into the computer world for his trouble.  He is now a user incarnated as a program, and indistinguishable from any other except in his power to manipulate data.  He fights to defeat the MCP and restore the programs to their users.  The film is, quite obviously, heedlessly unsubtle in its use of religious concepts.

‘Tron’ is an exciting, bizarre, surreal and innovate piece of celluloid.  It’s a milestone in CGI development and our popular conception of cyberspace.  It may have been, if you’ll pardon the expression, ahead of the game in its first release, but it’s plain to see that ‘Tron’ is not just another pleasant diversion.  It helps us review our world.  That’s why we go to the movies.

Classic Review: Breakfast At Tiffany’s

By contributor Patrick Zabriskie

Stars: ★★★1/2

Summary: A delightful romantic comedy that is deeper than it realizes.

In my own way, I feel as though I’m breaking new ground here. This maybe the first fullfledged chick flick reviewed on the Silver MIrror, albeit it’s quality and popularity have allowed it to transcend the genre somewhat. And this IS the chick flick to see, if you only ever see one.

Audrey Hepburn stars as Holly Golightly, a beautiful New York socialite who always has a man or two waiting at her door. Thanks to a free spirit and a strong sense of independence, though, she remains single amist her courters. Life changes though, when the young writer Paul Varjak (George Peppard) moves into the apartment upstairs from hers. What follows is a surprisingly complicated tale of love, as Holly struggles between other courters, Paul, and eventually her own desire to be “free” and “uncaged”, before, ultimately, the ending you know has to happen happens.

Great pefromances all around. Audrey Hepburn is positively breathtaking as Holly, and is in my opinion the most beautiful woman ever caught on film. George Peppard is equally memorable as Varjak, a strong, sensible, smart, and very compassionate man. Fans of 1980s television might remember Peppard as John “Hannibal” Smith, the cigar chomping leader of ‘The A-Team’. Though I don’t know for sure how Hannibal would have delt with someone like Holly, it would probably involve many more explosions. Mickey Rooney also co-stars as the Asian landlord of the apartment, a charcter who, while funny, shows a considerable degree of racial insensitivity. Its the only real sign that the film is dated.

Earlier I mentioned that the film is deeper than it itself might realize. The idea of freedom is a strong theme of this movie. Holly’s belief that she is free and wild and untamed because she is unattached emotionally to a man is called into question when it prevents her from being with the one she loves. In order to be free she won’t be with Paul, even though she loves him. All of the sudden her freedom has become a cage. It’s a deep concept for a film like this, and to fully elaborate on it, I think, requires a separate entry, which I plan to follow through on.

In short, though, Breakfast at Tiffany’s is a lovely film and a true classic. I recommend seeing it and, fellows, it is still the best chick flick for you and your girlfriend to see.

Buy It From Amazon: Breakfast At Tiffany’s – Paramount Centennial Collection (Mastered in High Definition)

Classic Review: Blade Runner (Final Cut)

Stars:  **** out of Four

Summary:  Brooding, foreboding, brutal, and brilliant.  A culturally significant picture not quite like any other.

I know it's nothing like the film, but my head gets the image of Harrison Ford shooting thousands of robots, as he runs across giant knives, from seeing this poster.

I know it's nothing like the film, but my head gets the image of Harrison Ford shooting thousands of robots, as he runs across giant knives, from seeing this poster.

Review:  Similar to my review of ‘Citizen Kane’, I ask this question: How can I begin to review one of the most influential films of all time?  Many science fiction films, some worth their own salt, have directly taken inspiration from ‘Blade Runner’.  This is, in my opinion and the opinion of many others, Ridley Scott’s magnum opus.  The film’s own inspiration comes from film noir, and of course the dark, hard science fiction of novelist Phillip K. Dick.  It was Dick’s popular work of sci-fi philosophy, ‘Do Androids Dream Of Electric Sheep?’, that formed the basis of the screenplay.  Humanity, in the future, creates extremely close replicas (or, “replicants”, as they are dubbed) of themselves, putting them to work.  Suddenly, slavery is again acceptable, because these androids aren’t really human.  Right?

I mean, right?

If the influential philosopher Descartes is to be believed, if we think, that is how we know we are a thing.  “I think, therefore I am”, it is commonly translated, though that popular phrase is slightly off, but that’s beside the point.  The point is, how does this apply when so-called strong AI becomes frighteningly human-like?  Do we grant our machines equal rights with us, as a kind of offspring of the human race?  We have not yet devised a machine that blurs the lines between us, so all arguments over this question have remained theoretical.  Currently, we still put artificial intelligence against something called the Turing test, which so far has concluded that true strong AI is years, maybe centuries away, if at all possible.  But in the future that Phillip K. Dick and Ridley Scott transport us to, the Turing test has been passed by the replicants.  The Tyrell corporation, responsible for their creation and management, now has a “Voight-Kampff test”, which initially seems effective at identifying them.  But science marches on.

The film opens with two men in a darkened room.  One, a Blade Runner; that is, a policeman tasked with hunting down rogue androids.  The other, we don’t know.  The Blade Runner is giving him the Voight-Kampff test, but before a solid conclusion can be made, the replicant — ’cause that’s what he is — shoots him dead and flees.  A short time later, a former Blade Runner, Rick Deckard (Harrison Ford), is called by his old boss and set on the case.  There are four possibly dangerous rogue replicants on the loose, and it’s up to Deckard to hunt them down.  Teamed with Gaff (Edward James Olmos), he travels to meet Tyrell himself, hoping to find that the Voight-Kampff test still works on this latest batch of replicants, of which the rogues are members.  While at the Tyrell corporation, Deckard is surprised to find that they have just perfected — but not released — a type of android that can pass the test.  The first of her kind, Rachael (Sean Young) and Deckard form an uneasy attraction to one another, but Tyrell tells him to avoid revealing her identity as a replicant to anyone — especially her.

Without spoiling the rest of the plot, here’s my summary of the action.  Things are bleak throughout.  Many of the replicants act more human, more alive, than Deckard ever does.  The whole city seems dead, machinist, a necropolis of impostors.  The only people who care to challenge the status quo are — you guessed it — the escaped replicants.  Though their actions are indubitably brutal and hateful against the rest of humanity, it’s because they are escaped slaves without a guide.  Their “father”, Tyrell, is quite wicked.  They find no solace in him.

Now onto the question of Deckard.  If you’ve looked into this film, you’ve probably heard of the common theory that he is himself a replicant.  This is never stated, not even in the Final Cut version that was released on DVD/Bluray.  But it is a quite reasonable assumption.  Gaff, who basically disappears about halfway into the film, would seem to be the actual Blade Runner, the guy in charge of watching over him.  He seems like a guardian angel figure, and doesn’t really take sides.  He seems strangely aware of Deckard’s activities and location at all times, even of his secret romance with Rachael.

The violence of the film is very shocking, especially in the Final Cut.  A man’s skull is crushed with the bare hands of a replicant.  People are shot, stabbed, and otherwise bloodied.  Yet, despite the title and the R-rating for violence, this is not an action movie.  It’s a mystery thriller, a very slow burning, intentionally depressing contemplation.

The cinematography is amazing, and with it, the special effects.  They work in nearly perfect union to create a completely believable, nightmarish, and sometimes beautiful world.  The futuristic technology, remaining without enhancement even in the latest home video release, is seamless.  You will believe a flying car can in fact fly.

Philosophical and unquestionably adult, ‘Blade Runner’ has proven to be an elegant masterpiece.  It’s too bad that most science fiction pictures won’t approach its excellence… but then again, who does?

Classic Review: Alien

By contributor Patrick Zabriskie

Stars:  ★★☆☆

Inside that egg theres a facehugger even a mother couldnt love.

Inside that egg there's a facehugger even a mother couldn't love.

The nineteen seventies was a dark time for many.  The economy was bad, morality was degrading, and the United States had been cursed with a string of sub-par presidents, not to mention several global wars and conflicts.  In this dark and grim decade, therefore, it is no surprise to find a string of pioneering horror films, including ‘Jaws’, ‘The Exorcist’, ‘The Texas Chainsaw Massacre’, ‘The Omen’, and ‘Halloween’.  These films were darker in tone and more serious than previous horror films, and they are largely responsible for helping to modernize and reinvigorate the horror movie genre.  The last entry in this line of horror films is ‘Alien’, in 1979.  Despite praise from many a critic, this cosmic odyssey lacks the elements which make it truly great, and more importantly scary.

After the title assimilates across a panorama of outer space, we are shown the Nostromo, a rather gothic looking mining ship slowly drifting through the cosmos.  Its seven crew members are suddenly and abruptly awakened from long-term hibernation by the ships computer, dubbed MOTHER, and are ordered to investigate a strange S.O.S. signal from a nearby planet.

Upon landing on this strange, dissident sort of world, they discover the ruins of a gigantic and long crashed alien ship with an enormous chamber of eggs inside.  One of the eggs unleashes a strange hand-like creature that attaches itself to a member of the crew, putting him into a coma.  After bringing him back to the ship and unsuccessfully attempting to control or even understand this life form, the “hand” all of the sudden falls off, and all is at peace.  That is, until another creature bursts out of the man via chest in a now iconic movie scene.  The remaining part of the movie chronicles the crew as they attempt to combat and kill “the eighth passenger”.

For what it’s worth, the plot is an intriguing one.  It’s sort of a 50’s B movie on steroids.  There is also an interesting implied message on workers rights in this movie, as this crew finds its life being compromised by the desires of a company-controlled computer, perhaps a nod to the tough economic years of the seventies.  There is also a kind of sexual undertone that is inferable from this movie, as much of the artwork and even the look of the alien are reminiscent of human sexuality.

However this story carries with it an inordinately large amount of shortcomings.  The most notable and most important flaw lies with the acting.  It is difficult to tell what makes for a bad performance in a movie, whether it be the performance itself or the writing.  It seems that a little bit of both is at fault here in ‘Alien’.  For the first 45 minutes of the movie or so, nothing anybody utters possesses a trace of emotion.  It’s all bland scientific terminology and company policy.  This is only worsened by the actors, who evidently were told to deliver every line in a lifeless manner.  Unfortunately, this is not good for creating horror.  I cannot feel much fear for characters who don’t seem human.  When they did start showing real emotion, a whopping hour into the film, I could have cared less if they lived or died.

There are other problems with plot.  There are inconsistencies or questions left unanswered at the end of the film.  For instance, why show literally thousands and thousands of eggs if only one of them proves to be a threat.  Or why show a bizarre alien skeleton in the old ship?  Just so the characters can spend one minute examining it before proceeding onward and completely forgetting about it?  Or why bother to let the audience know halfway through the movie that MOTHER wants the alien unharmed without telling us why.  It feels unfinished, unpolished.  Sure, some of these questions are answered in the sequel, too bad it took seven years to make.  Lastly, this movie is just too slow going.  An early trailer for the movie indicated a rather frantic pacing for this movie, but that’s really not the case.  It’s close to 45 minutes before the audience actually sees the eggs and about another 30 minutes before the true Alien makes its appearance. Even after that, the creature just makes short cameos interspersed by boring dialogue.

Other aspects of this film are hit and miss.  The set designs are perhaps the most elaborate and well done I’ve ever seen.  They don’t feel like gigantic movie sets, they feel like real places, real confined spaces, which is good for making claustrophobia.  Also, this movie is notable for its heavy use of handheld camera work, which adds, at times to the lost and confined feeling of this movie.  The special effects in general are pretty good for 1979, but they tend to slump in key places.  Take the famous “chest burst” scene.  From a believability standpoint, it’s absolutely brilliant—until the creature runs across a table, fully revealing that it is being pulled across on a metal track.  This sort of flaw is a disaster for this movie, because it so easily undermines credibility, which is not something that this film can afford to lose if it wants to be affective.  Another example is the alien suit.  It was wise for the filmmakers to cast a 7-foot Kenyan in the role of the creature, because it helps to make him appear less human when in full attire.  However, a man in a suit is just that, and at the end of the day it simply is a little too noticeable that this is a stuntman walking around the set.  Again, complete and total belief in this creature is crucial to making this film work, but they didn’t quite get it, and it compromises the whole premise.

Lastly there is Jerry Goldsmith’s score.  It’s interesting in how unnoticeable it is.  There is no real strong theme holding it all together, and it is altogether too sedated to make much impact.  Not only that, but often at what are presumably the scariest points in the movie, the music is simply stopped.  This is a bad idea, because, coupled with the issues with special effects, it doesn’t quite pull of fear as well as it should.  It’s a shame too, because Goldsmith has proven on other occasions how capable of creating a mood he is.

In conclusion, ‘Alien’ simply does not support its own premise well enough.  Its not that it couldn’t have, but it doesn’t.  A few key rewrites would probably have saved it, but as it stands, it is simply an average film.  At times it can scare, but it’s rarely for a better reason than for shock.  However, if there is one good thing that came out of ‘Alien’, it’s the other movies it had an influence on.  For instance, the sequel, 1986’s ‘Aliens’, was a much more balanced and entertaining affair.  Also, Ridley Scott, the director, would go on to refine his bleak-future style with the classic film ‘Blade Runner’, while a group of other filmmakers would create the masterpiece known as ‘The Thing’—a much better update of science-fiction horror—just three years later, borrowing elements from this film.  ‘Alien’ serves as an important lesson to filmmakers: Don’t let a film be overshadowed by its legacy.

Cult Classic: Flash Gordon

Stars: ★★1/2☆

“Flash!  A-ah!  Savior of the universe!”

Thats just amazing.

That's just amazing.

Review:  So the universe… er, actually, just Earth, is in big trouble.  The devious Emperor Ming of the planet Mong has decided to arbitrarily screw with Earth’s inhabitants, with the ultimate goal of destroying it.  “Pathetic Earthlings!” He gloats, “Who will save you now?”

Well, gee, Mister Ming, that’d be a dimwitted blond football player named Flash (A-ah!).  Be afraid!

So while Ming is screwing with Earth by dumping bizzare phenomena on them, such as hot hail, Flash is getting ready to fly Somewhere Else, with a reporter named Dale (who happens to be a girl).  Ming inexplicably vaporizes the pilots of the jet, and Flash crashlands it in a mad scientist’s greenhouse.  Dr. Zarkov, it so happens, has “figured out” that aliens are causing the disasters, through some contrived explanation involving shifting the moon’s orbit.  So he prepares a rocket he appearantly has lying around so he can blast off and tell the aliens that they are silly for messing with the moon.  Yeah, you tell ’em, Doc.  He wanted his assistant to go with him, but the guy freaked out when Dr. Zarkov pulled a gun and tried to force him into the rocket (like most sane people would).  When the jet crushes the greenhouse, it seems to kill Zarkov’s freaked-out buddy, which nobody acknowledges.  Ever.  So, anyway, Flash and Dale are tricked oh-so-cleverly by Zarkov into the rocket, and they all end up blasting off into deep space. Where, we find out later, you can breath.  Rules do not apply in ‘Flash Gordon’.  Common sense and logic?  What’s that?

So all kinds of ridiculous plot goes down.  Flash beats up Ming’s imperial guards with football (and teamwork!) and even dies and is brought back (by Ming’s daughter!).  Dale is taken to Ming’s harem and prepared to, well, you know.  She escapes and kicks more butt than Flash does in this entire movie (!).  Meanwhile, Ming’s daughter flies Flash to meet Prince Barin on a forest, er, planet (if you can call it that, it’s more like a floating, flat-topped rock.)  Prince Barin, incidentally, is played by Timothy Dalton,  who played James Bond for two movies, which arguably are some of the best of that long-lived series.  It’s completely odd that he’s in this movie, but there he is, swearing and stabbing away.  While we’re on the subject, it seems that everybody in this movie is more awesome than Flash, but inexplicably they all think he’s great.  The soundtrack (by Queen!) doesn’t help, either.  You have this awesome anthem for a character who… does… nothing.  Flash!  A-ah!  He’ll save every one of us!

So some stuff goes down on Barin’s forest world, which further cements how useless Flash is.  He then meets with Prince Vultan (BRIAN BLESSED!) of the Hawkmen, yada-yada-yada.  This movie just drags.  If you can’t tell already, this is a bad movie. As long as you expect nothing more, that isn’t a bad thing.  That’s why it’s a cult movie, especially in Britain.

So after all kinds of ridiculous stuff, Flash accidentally (yes, accidentally) skewers (yes, skewers) Emperor Ming with a spaceship (yes, a spaceship).  He then climbs out and threaten the wounded villain with a sword.  Ming just disappears, leaving Flash wondering what to do next.  A little floating robot shows up, and announces “Long live Flash!  You’ve saved your Earth.  Have a nice day.” and Flash answers, “YEAH!”  How’s that for dialog and plot resolution?  Hitchcock, eat your heart out.

This movie is just nuts.  Incidentally, it was written by Lorenzo Semple Jr., who was responsible for several episodes of the 1960s ‘Batman’ TV series and the subsequent movie, which is itself a camp classic.

“Flash!  A-ah!  You never did anything!”