Mark Bomback and Matt Reeves wrote this installment, with Reeves returning to direct. Two years after the human-hating Koba attacked humans — Dawn of the Planet of the Apes — Caesar and his tribe of intelligent apes have been forced to fight against Alpha-Omega, a military faction led by The Colonel (Woody Harrelson), who uses the apes loyal to Koba as his soldiers, calling them donkeys and Caesar’s troops kongs.
After Disney bought Fox this year, it was thought that this would be the last film in this universe. However, Wes Ball (The Maze Runner) is directing another sequel that is supposedly taking place in the same continuity.
This film has way less humans in it — save the Alpha-Omega and army troops that fight one another and the mute Nova, who befriends Maurice. Steve Zahn also shows up as Bad Ape, a chimpanzee who lived in a zoo before the flu outbreak led to the apes moving up the evolutionary ladder.
All the apes want to do is find a place in the desert that will be an oasis for them, so that Caesar can raise his sons Blue Eyes and Cornelius in peace. However, getting there will mean going through hell and confronting the past, where Koba had to die. It will cost him a son, a wife and nearly his own life to find the heaven on Earth that the apes deserve. If the goal was for Caesar to become the Moses of the apes, this movie certainly achieves that.
After all, Maurice, an orangutan, makes the promise to tell Caesar’s story to his son. In the original films, the Lawgiver is responsible for carrying on these traditions, so much so that their statue becomes revered long after Caesar has been forgotten.
In 2227, Earth has become the playground for the apes and humans are only good for labor and sport. There are some rebel freedom fighters who are ready to battle against the apes and now, we begin the sequel to Empire of the Apes.
Seriously, it’s really come to this.
You may look at the poster and wonder, “Who is still using the mosaic filter on Photoshop in 2019?” These guys. That’s who. These guys.
Many of the reviews that I’ve read for this movie wonder why it was ever made. It somehow tops the original for poor editing, horrible font choices, costumes that were made in an elementary art school class, music that made me want to defecate myself and yes, scenes of apes spanking the hottest Hot Topic third key managers to ever work at the Johnstown Galleria.
Of all the horrific things that have happened to me in late 2019, this movie may be the worst of them all. CGI stock shots of buildings. Ben Cooper masks. Strobing lights. Dialogue that makes a Jess Franco movie look like a Woody Allen film. And yes, long scenes of apes laughing at their own jokes. And dirt bikes.
I worry that I’ve made this movie sound way better than it is. Please don’t watch it.
Kevin Sorbo played Hercules on TV and in the movies, he’s been Kull and the star of a series of Walking Tall movies. He’s also a nondenominational Christian who believes that his religious views have hurt his career.
“There’s a negativity towards Christians in Hollywood, and a negativity towards people who believe in God,” said Sorbo. He also considers himself politically independent, saying that he voted for Ronald Reagan and Bill Clinton. He also endorsed Donald Trump for President, claiming that “Jesus would have voted for Trump.”
So anyways. He made this movie.
Atheist Dr. Sol Harkens (Sorbo, who directed this film) debates a Christian leader, but more like destroys him on stage. Then he heads off to a party where he slams booze and strikes out with his own Russian model girlfriend before driving into a wall on the way home.
That’s when he finds himself in Heaven, where he meets his dead son David. He’s dead for about four minutes, which is an eternity in the afterlife or just enough time for David to tell him, “Let there be light.” This is a moment in our house like the secret word on Pee-Wee’s Playhouse. I stand up, scream and throw things any time that someone says the name of the movie within a movie. For Let There Be Light, I exhausted myself. The title is repeated so many times, you’ll start angrily shouting it back at the characters.
That’s when the doctor discovers that he can’t be an atheist any longer. His Christian ex-wife Katy (Sam Sorbo, who co-wrote and co-produced this movie. In addition to playing Serena on Hercules: The Legendary Journeys, she was also in Ed and His Dead Mother and is a Pittsburgh native) slowly starts to accept him, even if his kids are divided. Actually, I say that and this movie has no dramatic tension. They pretty much easily take him back.
The moment Dr. Sol proposes to Katy — literally as she’s telling the kids and asking them if it’s OK — she has a seizure because she has a rare form of brain cancer and is about to die.
Dr. Sol reacts to this news with the knowledge that it’s God’s plan. Yes, the man who railed against people when his son died is now cool that his wife is past the point of treatment. God works in mysterious ways.
Fox News’ Sean Hannity shows up and it’s treated as if he’s a bigger deal than Oprah. If I told you that he was an executive producer on this film, that may explain both points of the sentence above.
That’s when our hero has a masterstroke: he wants everyone in the world to shine their lights to the sky at night at the same time so that God can see us. Yes, even the horrible folks in Isis, who this movie takes multiple opportunities to attack.
The night of the Let There Be Light event, the Harkens sing Christmas carols and Dr. Sol’s wife dies in front of everyone. The end.
I wish that you guys could have heard this movie explained to me by my mother-in-law. I really do love the family I married into, but man, they really love films like this. I was in tears the entire time because I kept saying what the next plot twist was as she told me and I was correct every time. Of course the wife dies!
Sorbo brought along Daniel Roebuck (The Fugitive, U.S. Marshalls), character actor Gary Grubbs, Travis Tritt, Dionne Warwick and one-time mobster and now motivational speaker Michael Franzese as Father Vinnie, who is now a made man in the eyes of the Lord. I yelled every one of his lines back to him in Andrew “Dice” Clay’s voice. Ohh!
This was a Sorbo family affair, with even their two kids, Braeden and Shane, playing the kids of the Harkins, Gus and Conner. It’s a natural follow-up to Sorbo’s work in God’s Not Dead.
Much like Kirk Cameron’s Saving Christmas, making fun of this movie makes me feel like I’m making fun of kids who were only allowed to watch The Waltons and Little House on the Prarie. So, you know, acting like I do pretty much all of the time. The one moment that I enjoyed here was a poster of one of Dr. Harkins’ books, that said that Hercules was more real than Jesus. Cute one, Sorbo family.
David DeCoteau made The Wrong Cruise for Lifetime, which also stars Vivica A. Fox, and that movie uses the exact same establishing shot of a cruise ship as this movie. Welcome to the world of DeCoteau, where stock footage and ADR rules the day.
This is the second combo of Fox and DeCoteau that I’ve watched this holiday season. Obviously, I’ve made an advent calendar for myself filled with feces.
NOTE: The actress and director have worked together way more times than I thought was possible, including The Wrong Roommate. Sadly, I fear my OCD means that I’m going to be watching all of them.
When Pam Stevenson’s (Fox) best friend Becky (Jessica Morris, who has been in DeCoteau’s The Wrong Man, The Wrong Mommy and The Wrong Teacher, as well as A Mermaid for Christmas) takes her on a Christmas cruise — see, the title pays off — the aspiring novelist somehow finds the love of her life onboard.
That said, the ship they board is the Queen Mary, which hasn’t sailed for years, and all of the film’s locations look like banquet rooms at some hotel.
Kristoff St. John — who was on The Young and the Restless with Fox — died this year and this was one of his last films. Thanks to his IMDB page, I learned a fact that I would never have found out otherwise: he was childhood friends with both Soleil Moon Frye and her brother Meeno Peluce. I never realized that these two 80’s stars — Punky Brewster and Jeffrey Jones from Voyagers! — were related.
This movie also has Rib Hillis (he used to be on Extreme Makeover: Home Edition), Cristine Prosperi (Imogen Moreno from Degrassi: The Next Generation), Corin Nemec (the titular Parker Lewis from Parker Lewis Can’t Lose) and Reatha Grey (whose acting career started all the way back in the blacksploitation movie Welcome Home Brother Charles).
This Ion television TV movie lacks the sheer insanity of the director’s other films, so my hopes of talking cats and holiday puppies were dashed. Instead, two older people found love on a holiday island. Then again, if I want to watch more DeCoteau seasonal fare, there’s also Christmas Matchmakers (also with Fox), Carole’s Christmas, My Christmas Grandpa (again, with Fox), A Royal Christmas Ball and Runaway Christmas Bride.
Afflicted with a dermatological disease, young and beautiful Kira (Rebecca Forsythe, who was also the executive producer for this movie and the daughter of actor William Forsythe) learns that she can replace her skin with those of other women. Helped by her lover, she plots a murder and the victim becomes her donor, but when the disease returns, she must continually find new victims.
There are two reasons to be excited about this movie. First, it has Barbara Crampton in it, which is always a welcome site. A genre vet, she elevates any material that she is in.
Second, it was written by Richard Stanley. Yes, the very same Richard Stanley who directed Hardware and The Otherworld, in addition to being caught up in the mess that was 1996’s The Island of Dr. Moreau.
There’s an intriguing premise here. Unlike a vampire, Kira must take the flesh of the living or her skin will age before its time. This is co-writer and director Norbert Keil’s English language debut and he’s done it with plenty of style.
The thing about this film is that while many streaming movies we’re asked to cover are simply digital point and shoot films with no allusions to art, this is an actual piece of cinema. It actually has something to say about aging, vanity and the need to control one’s illness.
Replace is available on DVD and on demand from Uncork’d Entertainment.
DISCLAIMER: We were sent this movie by its PR team.
Editor’s Note: We got hornswoggled on this one. Mill Creek’s Pure Terror 50-pack doesn’t carry this Indonesia horror: it programs the British-made Satan’s Slave (1976). No worries, we reviewedthat Norman J. Warren programmer as part of its inclusion on Mill Creek’s Gorehouse Greats 12-pack.You can read it, here.
Now, let’s check out the Indonesian one — with that pesky plural “S” that hung us up.
It’s time for more cheap n’ scary—yet creative—fun with another Indonesian horror film with its roots nourished in the horror films of the West—with Muslim and Hindi religious beliefs substituted for the usual Christianity-based horror themes. However, while American horror films are mostly blood and gore for the sake of blood and gore, Indonesian horror films carry a deeper religious message regarding the folly of abandoning one’s longstanding traditions and beliefs.
How accurate are the various, bargain-DVD imprints marketing Satan’s Slaves as an Indonesian version of Don Coscarelli’s cult horror hit, Phantasm?
If you go into this expecting an Asian-inspired Angus Scrimm-cum-Leàk crypt keeper guiding an army of dwarfs and flying cutlery guarding a dimensional portal with a Lady in Lavender sidekick, you’ll be disappointed. There are, however, moments of visual déjà vu with the film’s teen protagonist riding a motorcycle through a cemetery and there’s a fortune teller that knows more than she’s telling, and . . . that’s about it.
The more expansive similarities are of the narrative persuasion: Phantasm’s Mike and Satan’s Slaves Tommy are both teenagers dealing with the death of a parent and the resulting fears regarding death and dealing with loss and abandonment issues that leave them tangled in a psychological web.
As with its American antecedent, a teenager, Tommy, and his sister (instead of a “Jody”) deal with the death of their mother; their affluent-materialistic family, unable to cope with the loss, completely abandoned their already lackadaisical religious beliefs. As result, Tommy delves into black magic and searches for solace with Darminah, a fortune teller he recognized attending his mother’s funeral. Once Daraminah works her way into the family’s good graces as the family’s maid, Tommy’s friends and family members suffer violent, Omen-styled deaths and the Salem’s Lot-reminiscent shrouded ghosts and reanimated zombie-vampires appear.
Is this Indonesian horror entry worth the watch? It depends on a horror buff’s opinion. Me? I say pair it up with the shot-for-shot The Exorcist clone, Seytan (1974), and The Evil Dead clone that is Mystics in Bali (1981) for a night of fun.
Did Bach Ke Zara (2008) deliver on its reputation as Indonesian remake of Sam Raimi’s The Evil Dead (1981)? What are your feelings about Mystics in Bali (1981; The Leàk), its Taiwanese remake, The Witch with the Flying Head (1982; Fei tou mo nu), and the Chinese-inversion, The Corpse Master (1986; Jiang shi shao ye)—all which are rooted in the 1967 Russian film, Viy, based on the Nikolai Gogol tale?
While this Mill Creek reissue of Satan’s Slaves—as part of their Pure Terror 50 Movie Pack—is a minor curiosity for U.S audiences, it was a major, influential hit in its homeland and Japan. Sources place the domestic release of the film at 1980, but it seems to be more likely released in 1982; international distribution outside of the Pacific Rim countries didn’t occur until 1987.
The film was such a substantial hit that a remake became a pet project for Indonesia’s most successful horror director, Joke Anwar (Ritual, The Forbidden Door), who cited the film (as B&S Movies’ readers cite Phantasm) as his favorite childhood film. He eventually convinced Rapi Films, who released the original, to let him do it. Released in 2017, Anwar’s remake received thirteen nominations—the most for any picture that year—including Best Picture in The Film Festival Indonesia, and became the highest grossing film of 2017 in Indonesia.
If you’re up for other films influenced by Nikolai Gogol’s classic horror tale, search out the Yugoslavian film, A Holy Place (1990), the Russian horror film, The Witch (2006), and Park Jin-seong’s excellent, Evil Spirit (2008).
There’s a non-dubbed and non-subtitled upload of the 1982 original on You Tube. Vudu has the 2017 remake.
About the Author: You can learn more about the writings of R.D Francis on Facebook.He also writes for B&S About Movies.
Day 24 Short Attention Span Theatre: Watch some shorts or anthology things
This 24th day of Scarecrow Video of Seattle’s Psychotronic October Scarecrow Challenge of 31 movies in 31 days is tailor made for the binge-watchable sci-fi films at DUST (make your own anthology film!). Their portal features science fiction shorts from emerging filmmakers obsessed with aliens, robots, space exploration, technology, and the human experience in space.
There are so many great films that rival the imagination and budgets of most bloated Hollywood productions to be enjoyed on DUST. But I chose to review two films that eschew dialog. Films that successfully use subtext over dialog is an art form not easily mastered. And these two films are magna cum laude.
Writer/directors Colin West, of Pink Plastic Flamingos, and Marko Slavanic, of Project Skyborn, understand the pitfalls of including more dialogue than is necessary to convey a story. They understand that films conveying a tale with images and not words make for a more lasting impact.
Think about the perpetual jaw-drop you experienced with 2001: A Space Odyssey (1968). Or being mesmerized by Albert Lamorisse’s The Red Balloon (1956) and Jean-Jacques Annaud’s Quest for Fire (1981) and The Bear (1988). Or the captivation experienced with Kim Ki-duk’s 3 Iron (2004) and Moebius (2013).
Such are these two films.
Pink Plastic Flamingos
In my September 2019 “Post Apoc Month” reviews for the European dystopian dramas Kamikaze ’89 (1982) and Docteur M (1990), we discussed the detriment of technological controls against humanity.
That human-technological dependence on our phones and its related apps—that we use to complete the mundane tasks of ordering food, deciding what food we need to restock the fridge, or cleaning our floors (an iRobot Roomba makes an appearance in the film)—is addressed with Colin West’s sixth film. West, however, goes deeper with his technological statement: it’s also a satire on the drudgery of the domesticated housewife and the human-emotional disconnect.
Pink Plastic Flamingos is comedic tale about a man, his family . . . and his robot. George (Vince Major) hates daily chores. He hates mowing the lawn. Even making sure his daughter, Emma (Dylan Beam), is safe and secure in the car gets on his nerves. He hates any social obligation, even to his own wife, Marilyn (Sara Gorsky).
And how dare she leave a note for him to do the dishes. Then, with the foot bump of a Roomba (that speaks the film’s only “dialog”: a foretelling, “Caution”), George has an “aha” moment to rid him of these bothersome tasks.
So with a lawn mower, a computer, and car parts from his garage out steps a Futurama-by-way-of-Tony-Stark solution to all of his problems. Now he can relax in a lawn chair with a Styro-cooler and lounge at the pool.
And all is well until the robot takes over his life. And he loses is wife and daughter to the more attentive robot.
Technology: Be careful what you wish for.
Project Skyborn
The purpose of film is to suspend your disbelief and engage your mind. Such a film is the sci-fi actioner, Project Skyborn. As with Anton Doiron’s inventive, sci-fi-on-a-budget space pleasure cruise that is Space Trucker Bruce, Project Skyborn is a case of giving a filmmaker an easily eBay-acquired flight suit, a few feet of 25mm flexible electrical conduit, some hose-band clamps, and two Thermos flasks and you get a film that rivals any Matt Damon or Brad Pitt astroromp.
In this Oblivion meets Hunger Games mind bender, Astronaut 42 (William Buchanan, U.S TV’s NCIS “Devil’s Triad”) wakes up in a snowy, wooded landscape—possibly a moon of a distant planet. He’s been airdropped into a virtual reality game zone, equipped with a technologically-advanced rifle and a photograph. And the rifle’s on-display timer is counting down. And he’s just been acquired in a mysterious opponent’s crosshairs. Then an electronic voice advises how much “breathable oxygen” his suit has left. The first shot rings out. . . .
You can visit with Colin West and Marko Slavanic at their respective websites for more information about their films.
DUST is always looking for content. The future awaits at Facebook, Watch Dust, and DUST You Tube for science fiction filmmakers with fully completed, ready to watch films.
And speaking of anthologies: DUST edited an hour long “anthology” with a collection of recent sci-fi shorts from their library: Time is a Place, Telepathy, Atoms of Uncontrollable Silence, Falling Apart, Again, and The Two of Us.
Cockpit: The Rule of Engagement
Sara Gorsky of Pink Plastic Flamingos will soon star alongside Ronnie Cox (1972’s Deliverance, In the Line of Duty: The F.B.I Murders) in Demon Star, the feature film that grew from the award-winning short, Cockpit: The Rule of Engagement. You can learn more about the films of writer/director Jesse Griffith at Griffith Pictures You Tube.
About the Author:You can read the music and film reviews of R.D Francis on Medium and learn more about his works on Facebook. He also writes for B&S Movies.
Banner Image by R.D Francis. Pink Plastic Flamingos image courtesy of Colin West. Center image courtesy Facebook DUST; manipulated by R.D Francis. Project Skyborn image is not an official poster; manipulation by R.D Francis based from still courtesy of Marko Slavanic; text courtesy of PicFont.
I can remember the first He-Man figure we ever got. My grandparents brought it to us from Montgomery Ward and it felt like it had arrived from another planet. Where He-Man and even Star Wars felt grounded in our reality, The Masters of the Universe seemed the unholy union of technology and sorcery, the kind of place where a caveman could fight alongside a man in green armor and a flying monkey against a humanoid beast, a swamp creature and a living skeleton. As the line grew, the edges of this weirdness were somewhat sanded down — then again, any toy line that contains a character named Two Bad that is constantly fighting itself is still pretty wild — as it became more popular.
This documentary gets into how He-Man and the Masters of the Universe were “designed in the wake of Conan the Barbarian and under the shadow of Star Wars,” eventually becoming a multi billion dollar property that remains popular today.
From the initial development of the toyline to how it used the deregulation of toy advertising to become a multimedia entity, the start of this film tells the tale that many He-Man fans know, but one that newcomers will be interested to learn.
The movie also goes deep into the creation of the cartoons, the spinoffs and the 1987 Masters of the Universe movie, which starred Dolph Lundgren and Frank Langella, who are both quite candid and completely entertaining in their interviews.
While I’m definitely the target audience for this, I think anyone with an interest in 1980’s pop culture or marketing will find plenty to enjoy.
You can watch this on Netflix or grab it on on DVD and digital from High Octane Pictures on September 3.
DISCLAIMER: We were sent this movie by its PR team, but that has no bearing on our review.
Shot in Super35mm in Trentino, Northern Italy, and the UK, director Cesare Pollacci Libardi di K’s aspires to be “cocktail of The Thing and Rabid,” according to the film’s PR materials. Well, you can’t fault the hyperbole, as those are big goals to shoot for. The truth is, there’s a lot of wandering the woods and people yelling one another’s names.
Satellite technicians enter the woods to repair a communication station, but then they encounter the crew of a crashed airplane. However, something inside the lake is taking over everyone’s minds, loosening their inhibitions. However, one of their number is about to bond with the entities and be reborn in a new body.
There’s a fair amount of body horror on display, with one character melting into a giant pile of guts and blood. But there’s also more than a fair amount sheer nonsense. And not in a good way. In a way that makes this film seem like it’s ten times longer than its actual running time.
There is a pretty cool synth soundtrack, though. So it has that going for it. I’ve just seen too many movies lately where people are lost in the woods and screaming one another’s names for twenty minutes in a row, maybe.
Landing Lake premieres on VOD and DVD July 9 from High Octane Pictures.
DISCLAIMER: This movie was sent to us by its PR team, but that no bearing on our review.
Disguised as a slovenly-attired Hollywood Map to the Stars Tour Guide, Mr. Capricorn greets Hollywood’s two newest and soon-to-be rotted, Eve-bitten rock ‘n’ roll apples with a quote from the Holy Bible’s book of John 7:24: “Judge not according to the appearance, but judge righteous judgment.”
Mr. Capricorn’s lesson on the ignorance of relying more on your perceptions than your feelings falls upon the narcissistic heart and deaf ears of the religious-hating Johnny Faust. . . .
Hi. My name is R.D Francis and I am a rock ‘n’ roll film addict.
And when that rock-flick injects a hot-shot of Malcolm McDowell (rocker Reggie Wanker in Get Crazy; more contemporary: Halloween 2007 and Mozart in the Jungle) as the Prince of Darkness and a snort of Bill Duke (Predator; TV’s Black Lightning) as God’s right-hand angel: I do a “Johnny Squares” in a trailer behind the slaughterhouse where they shot Peter Swan’s Hotel Satan.
Someone tell the A.D to call Slash and Guns N’ Roses to the set for my funeral. I danced my last with Mr. Brownstone thanks to the McDowell and the Duke.
I’m no longer hurtin’ for a Drake Bell (Nickelodeon’s Drake and Josh) kidnap-and-van-torch of his dickhead-character Damien Collins, the leader of Damien’s Inferno, who promotes a bogus-impromptu Metallica club date to fuck over the new band of Lilly, his bisexual, ex-bass player girlfriend that he raped (off camera). I’m no longer jonesing for a “Hard-R” lesbian motel-soirée of underage sex, nor do I have the shakes for a scene of naked, coke-fueled brothel-sex. No lesbian giving a racist-sexist redneck a well-deserved garnished-boot groin puncture is required. For I got my McDowell-Duke fix and it’s a very mellow vibe.
Now hold on there, Ragman. Stop back-spinning the Sammy Curr albums and stow the pocket-rocket. You’ll get a zipper injury.
While American Satan coke-dishes some horror elements, it’s not a horror flick. So don’t come-a-rockin’ because the Queen of the Damned and The Crow ain’t knockin’. Imagine Rockstar as a horror flick that’s heavier on the sex, features an extended Jennifer Aniston nipple shot, and goes light on the gore. There are no obligatory demon possessions or cliché demon transformations; there’s no backmask-conjurings; forget about the non-linear Heather Langencamp-cum-Jennifer Rubin dream-within-dream warriors questioning their sanity in this higher road morality tale. Malcolm McDowell’s smarmy-philosophizing Devil doesn’t go “Freddy Krueger” on any wee-rocker’s ass, either.
There’ s no Sal Viviano belting King Kobra and Lizzy Borden tunes as Black Roses crisscrosses the ‘80s countryside in the name of Satan. There’s no Jon Mikl Thor in a Spinal Tap-meets-Ed Wood (thank you, Cliff!) Rock ‘N Roll Nightmare. Terry Chandler—in his requisite Killer Dwarf-patched denim vest—isn’t showing up with his copy of Sacrifyx’s The Dark Book to stop the demon-spew from The Gate (but he’d certainly vest-fly the Pentagram-red-and-black bars of The Relentless’ American Satan-logo).
“Schwing!” thrusts Garth Algar’s hips. “Denise Richards (as Ms. Faust) from my VHS tapes of Wild Things and Starship Troopers starring as a smokin’ hot rocker mom (who has her breast cancer “cured” by the Devil to “finalize his contract” with her rocker son) makes me feel like I watched a female-Bugs Bunny cartoon and climbed the rope in gym class.”
Oh, yeah, baby. This daddy’s rock-drug supplier of the week is Comcast, courtesy of a non-subscription promotional week of Showtime, which gave me my much-needed American Satan fix—and the faux-rock of the Relentless is a major score. Most faux-rocker actor-musician amalgamates—such as Tony Fields lip-synching to Fastway’s Dave King for Sammy Curr in Trick or Treat and Tracey Sebastian channeling Mott’s Nigel Benjamin as Billy “Eye” Harper in Rocktober Blood—dance a Mr. Brownstone along my veins.
While many musicians, such as David Bowie, transitioned successfully from microphone to camera in non-musician-character dramatic pieces, there are those cases of musicians acting as “musicians” where the results muster critical yawns—with Neil Diamond’s turn in The Jazz Singer (a film better than the critical bashes claim) as the worst-case example. Then there’s the Jim Carrey-Axl Rose Frankenstein that is Johnny Squares, leaving us wanting more Brownstone and less “make my day” and “do you feel lucky, punk” edicts. Then Johnny Squares O.D’d and the dirty spoon passed to Tom Cruise—in the ultimate faux-rock transformation—belting his own versions of Guns N’ Roses and Def Leppard tunes, leaving us salivating for an alt-reality Stacy Jaxx-Arsenal world tour.
Another one of my cinematic fascination-addictions is applauding the offspring of the writer-directors behind the celluloid milestones of my duplex-theatre youth who keep the shingle swinging over the front door of the family business.
Panos, the son of George G. Cosmatos (Cobra and Rambo: First Blood II), blew me away with his Nicolas Cage rock ‘n’ roll fever dream, Mandy (2018)—with the Cage laying waste to sinners with a Celtic Frost logo-inspired broadsword. Now Ash, the son of John G. Avildsen (Rocky and The Karate Kid), who incorporated his own film and music production company, Sumerian (Ash? Sumerian? Get me Bruce Campbell!), brings his label’s roster of progressive metal, metalcore, and deathcore to the fore with his rock ‘n’ roll letter: American Satan. (Ash also tosses in a score by Korn’s Jonathan Davis and places the Relentless in context with Deftones, the Pretty Reckless, Slaughter, and Skid Row on the soundtrack; Skid Row’s Sebastian Bach, who can act (Gilmore Girls; my ex-forced me to watch it, ugh) and would be welcomed on-screen—is not in the movie, despite what the IMDB tells you.)
In Todd Farmer’s action-packed morality tale, Drive Angry (2011), John Milton’s epic, philosophical poem, “Paradise Lost,” which pondered man’s use of free will and his place in heaven and hell—and, to a lesser extent, Stephen’s Benét’s moral-fable short story, “The Devil and Daniel Webster”—fueled his screenwriting vision. Taking Farmer’s literary cues, Ash Avildsen constructed his screenplay on the foundations of German literature’s finest moment: Johann Wolfgang von Goethe’s epic poem, Faust. And just as Goethe had his “proclivities,” so do his modern-day, cinematic namesakes.
On screen—holding his own against the McDowell and the Duke in his leading man debut—is Andy Beirsack (of the bands Black Veil Brides and Andy Black) as the aspiring rocker, Johnny Faust. A freshly-minted high-school diploma (contract) in hand, he leaves his Ohio-girlfriend, Gretchen (a Goethe-Faust character) for Los Angeles with fellow school-guitarist, Vic Lakota (Booboo Stewart from Twilight; he shines with his meandering, philosophical acid-tripping edict during a live TV interview), to hook up with drummer Dylan James (Sebastian Gregory of Australian TV’s longest-running daytime drama, Neighbours), and Leo Donovan (Benjamin Paul Bruce of metalcore stars Asking Alexandria), a U.K guitarist who they’ve written songs with through online networking.
Taking a similar approach to the rock comedy Airheads, where the New York alt-metal band D-Generation served as the “sound” of the faux-Lone Rangers, Sumerians Records’ Palaye Royal—a Toronto trio with the Modern Rock hits “Get Higher” and “You’ll Be Fine,” featuring the vocals of Remington Leith—provide the “sound” of the Relentless.
Providing a dose of Jack Blackesque comic relief is Leo Donovan’s “manager,” the portly Ricky Rollins (John “Sam” Bradley from Game of Thrones). We’ve seen rock-flick managers like this before (and in real life) . . . and I always want to bean them with a Gibson SG and give them some backside drum stick action: a live-vicariously dork devoid of any music or business acumen, “in the biz” with the hopes—and a rat’s chance in hell—of getting any sex, drugs or rock ‘n’ roll sloppy seconds . . . or fourths.
When the singular-monikered “Hawk” (professional wrestler Bill Goldberg) appears to Sam’s chagrin as the “new” tour manager and tells him, “You’re the band manager. I’m the road manager. You belong behind the desk,” then explains the services that portly Ricky can’t provide: “When the shit hits the fan, I’m the fan,” you kind of wish Goldberg would just get rid of Sam via a suplex pink slip and be done. Wait . . . What? What the hell? Sam is having a coke-binged, Fifty Shades of Grey ménage in a lesbian brothel’s Eyes Wide Shut-inspired V.I.P room? Cue Eddie Wilson; the rats are having a Rimbaud season in hell with the Cruisers.
Along the way, the Relentless fill out their roster with Lilly Mayflower (Jesse Sullivan; killing it in her feature film debut), a red herring L.A. lesbian-bassist who may or not be in league with the Devil. In a refreshing twist: Lilly—and not the ubiquitous male band member—is the one who creates career-controversy—and endures the hot-mom wrath of Lt. Tasha Yar from Star Trek:TNG (Denise Crosby)—for having underage sex with her teen daughter in a Topeka, Kansas motel room. (Am I spider-sensing The Wizard of Oz with Dorothy and her “band” following the Yellow Brick Road?)
. . . And down at the Daniel Johnson crossroads of Vineland Avenue and Burbank Boulevard, delineated by North Hollywood’s famous 32-foot neon clown at Clown Liquors, the burgeoning clown-rock god meets Mr. Capricorn, aka The Devil (McDowell), and the apple-bearing Gabriel, the Arc Angel (Duke), who both appear as an eclectic variety of “disguised,” philosophical-quoting characters during the band’s Homer-Iliad quest through the underbelly of Los Angeles. And in the land of Hollyweird, the world famous Rainbow Room Bar and Grill on the Sunset Strip serves as Mr. Capricorn’s Faustian Auerbachs Keller. (Now I’m spider-sensing a way-less-psychologically twisty Under the Silver Lake (2018).)
References to The Divine Comedy by Dante Alighieri are also morally-afoot as the band’s “Virgil” appears in the form of Akkadian Records’ (cue the Sumarian-Akkadian Empire hero-journey text, the “Epic of Gilgamesh”) owner Elias Collins (the awesome Mark Boone Junior from Sons of Anarchy and Batman Begins), a rock ‘n’ roll philosophizing, not-so-wise man that may not be who he seems to be. . . .
Being a rock star is the intersection of who you are and who you want to be. So, do you want to be a rock star?
How far will you go for that fame and fortune?
Will you surrender your free will and indulge in narcissism—even murder—to achieve it?
Are you ready for the consequences of the resulting fame and fortune?
Religion separates humanity. Music brings them together. Are you ready to join those masses—while tearing them away them from the rest of the world?
Are we real? Are you and I symbolic figments of our inner self?
My mind in is FUBAR crash-mode. I need a Dr. Pepper and Pringles-sleeve reboot.
Produced in part by Hit Parader magazine, the film features plot-appropriate title cards of musician published-insights regarding the “crossroads” of music and religion and the “influences” over their creativity—courtesy of Ozzy Osbourne, David Bowie, and Neil Young, Judas Priest’s Glenn Tipton, AC/DC’s Angus Young, Jimmy Page, and Carlos Santana.
A repetitive consumer-criticism of the film: the music . . . and not with Ash Avildsen’s intelligent scripting or the film’s crisp color palate (the V.I.P brothel scene and concert sequences are exquisite) by cinematographer Andrew Strahorn (of TV’s Lethal Weapon). And that critique isn’t a quality issue: it’s one’s personal taste issue.
Today’s alt-leaning metalcore practiced by the Black Veil Brides, Andy Black, the Crosses, and Palaye Royal (there are Deftones deriders out there as well) isn’t forever one—especially if raised on the sounds of Richie Blackmore’s Rainbow (Rainbow Rising appears on the Rainbow Bar’s wall) or the name-checked Led Zeppelin’s amplified-blues rock (. . . and Van Halen’s “Running with the Devil,” Iron Maiden’s “Number of the Beast,” the Rolling Stones’ “Sympathy for the Devil” and Their Satanic Majesties Request, and the Beatles’ Sgt. Pepper, along with the music of the Gene Simmons-christened new “heavy-metal stars” in the form of rappers Jay-Z and Kayne West).
Comparing the Relentless (soundtrack) to the output of the cool-to-hate grunge-metal hybrids Nickelback and Chevelle or that the film needs less “Marilyn Manson” and more “Metallica,” is harsh. I love pre-Cold Lake Celtic Frost (and pre-CF Hellhammer) and Morbid Angel just as much as the next “Ragman”—and nothing beats the sounds of my beloved ‘80s VHS-era heavy metal horror films—but those über-awesome bands are no longer contemporaneous in today’s youthful, analog-scoffing and digital-drunk epoch. Ash Avildsen didn’t make a retro-metal flick; he’s in the business of making films that make money. The digital celluloid has to rock with the times and not the yesterdays of the aged-out, demographically unwanted rocker.
Another critical misstep—result of the film’s unappreciated and misunderstood framework of Goethe’s Faust—is to rationalize the film as a steamier-version of a Lifetime cable flick crossed with a church-commissioned Alex Kendrick movie (writer-director of the actually commendable Flywheel and Facing the Giants) to “scare straight” Christian kids on the dangers of sex and drugs and that Satan and music go hand-in-hand.
“Perception is not reality. It’s what you feel, not what you see,” says Gabriel, the Arc Angel, disguised as the homeless Reverend Jasper Williams. He tosses Johnny Faust an apple. . . .
Hi, my name is R.D Francis and I am a rock ‘n’ roll film addict. And I feel pretty good about American Satan as my new fix.
Like Reverend Duke said: It’s all about perception.
American Satan and The Relentless merchandise is available at their official site. The film’s success has resulted in an upcoming TV spinoff film and subsequent series. The film is available across all VOD and PPV platforms, as well as DVD and pay cable channels.
About the Author: You can read the music and film reviews of R.D Francis on Medium and learn more about his work on Facebook. He also writes for B&S Movies.
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