Change Your Image
TheBryanWay
Reviews
The Lucifer Complex (1978)
The Worst Movie Ever Made
When asked about the worst film ever made, it might be safe to take the easy road of listing cult favorites like 'Plan 9 From Outer Space', 'The Room', or 'Birdemic', but I firmly believe that films giving viewers the perverse pleasure of laughing through them, or indeed the type that invite midnight screenings, cannot truly be considered the worst. If you had fun watching it, how can it possibly be that bad?
'The Lucifer Complex', on the other hand, is the worst film I've ever seen.
It starts off promisingly enough: a man walks alone on the shores of a deserted island, rhapsodizing over the collapse of society and the fall of humanity. He returns to the confines of his man cave, full of futuristic tech that would've looked dated on 'Star Trek', and has a seat to reflect on the folly of his erstwhile descendants. Seemingly off to a great start, right?
Then, he watches film of what life was like at the turn of the century. War. Newsreels. Concert film? Five minutes becomes ten, and the next thing you know your brain is slithering out your nostrils. The story proper finally kicks in as one of these films, featuring a tired and bloated Robert Vaughn as the world's least convincing spy, uncovers an island where existing members of the Nazi party look to revive the Third Reich using clones. Yeah, it's basically an unauthorized rip-off of 'The Boys From Brazil', but even a plot this outlandish can't save the film for the midnight movie crowd.
Cheesy movies can be fun. 'The Lucifer Complex' is only cheesy enough to be depressing. Uninspired camera work, dialogue too stale to be droll, exhausted performances, locations that kind of work, editing that drains the energy from each scene... it's as much fun as waking up to discover that your arm is asleep.
I won't spoil the film more than the description already does, but rest assured, the film within a film ends, leaving our terminally bored, island-locked protagonist to mumble some commentary on mankind that was probably insightful before the transgenerational degradation of bad writers borrowing from good ones reduced it from Arthur C. Clarke to L. Ron Hubbard to Stephanie Meyer; it's so bland it's useless to mock.
On the plus side, it's a fascinating experiment in relativity. If you really want to make 90 minutes feel like forever, watch 'The Lucifer Complex'.
Congo (1995)
This movie is not as bad as its rating suggests
Congo is rarely mentioned in any discussion about film. It seems like a forgotten artifact, abandoned like King Solomon's mines, discovered only by only those who maintain some fundamental interest; what you find is going to depend on how open you keep your mind. Rest assured, those of you who would rather ignore it aren't going to be missing a diamond, but I'd say an arrowhead isn't out of the question.
I'll dispense with the metaphors: Congo is not a bad film. I watched it many times in my youth and just watched it again yesterday, and the biggest complaint I have is that the original song 'Sounds Of Africa' is awful. I won't summarize the plot or analyze the film in explicit detail, but I will say that it is briskly paced, sharply written, and features solid characterizations, or as solid as they can be in an adventure epic. As an example, Tim Curry has been dismissed too often as the comic relief when he is actually central to the plot and turns in a deliciously dense performance, above and beyond the limitations of his character. Considering the slightly campy tone, the special effects are well above what anyone could expect. Just don't come prepared to judge them based on modern standards or Jurassic Park. Personally, I find physical effects more endearing than CGI anyway.
As many reviewers have said, it's a film of a bygone era, a lost world story treated as an adventure epic. Clearly it's not Indiana Jones and the tone tends to waver a bit, but it's never boring, and if it had been adapted from the book directly, it would have been. I can't imagine someone watching the airplane SAM scene without being excited by the action, or watching the group's border crossing struggles without at least sporting a grin.
So, check your ego and check your critical faculties; this is no Citizen Kane and it doesn't pretend to be. Those that harshly criticize it, by my estimation, have a lot to learn about having a good time at the movies.
Jacob's Ladder (1990)
It's a shame Lyne and Rubin didn't team up again...
This is the kind of movie that is sorely missing from today's theatres. While numerous directors and writers (too numerous to count) are trying to take horror films in new, original, and relevant ways, Jacob's Ladder will stand the test of time as a cult film that is truly terrifying and goes the extra mile by containing both criticism of military politics and an incredibly dense emotional subtext, none of which overwhelms the final product.
Current horror films take the concept of gore, jump scares, and soundtrack to the utmost extreme, sacrificing mood, tension, and restraint, which are the biggest assets to a horror film. Jacob's Ladder utilizes every tool in the horror palette that it needs while remaining true to its own ethos. The best scene to fit this example is the party, where one of the characters quite literally dances with a demon. In a more contemporary horror film, we would clearly see this demon, shots might be in slow motion to emphasize the sexuality in it, we would probably get creepy soundtrack music, the character in question would probably get torn apart, and at least part of the demon would likely be CGI.
Instead, the demon is seen in flashes that are quite unclear, which gives the viewer the idea that what they're NOT seeing is more terrifying. The sequence takes place in real time with appropriate dance music in the background without sacrificing the sexuality and the meaning of what is happening; this gives it a more realistic feel to the viewer. All the visual effects are in camera, but never in the same shot as the protagonist, offering a distance that allows for interpretation; is what the protagonist seeing reality, or an illusion?
This one scene (which is by no means a plot spoiler) is indicative of the technical, formal, and metaphorical mastery of this film. The explanations for what is seen in the film are critical without being overbearing and toe the line for believability while leaving space for interpretation. The mood conveyed by the film is consistently dark, darker than most any other film could hope to achieve. It's so dark, in fact, that a large majority of people were practically catatonic leaving the original cut of the film.
This film fires on all cylinders; the directing, writing, acting, music, special effects, production design, message, mood, and tension are always kept exactly where they should be. Simply put, it's a dark masterpiece.
Eraserhead (1977)
Best Possible Example of Film as an Abstract Art
When on the hunt for cult films, this one should not be overlooked. Filmed over the course of five years (1972-1977), this film is the very first full-length masterpiece of artist David Lynch. I say artist because he began not as a director, but an art student. Finding canvas too confining, he moved on celluloid, eventually moving on to AFI to fund his script 'Eraserhead'. According to Lynch, the film was inspired largely by his stay in Philadelphia. To know how he views it, the film must be seen.
The script itself was only 21 pages long, so it was assumed to be roughly a 21 minute movie; most people wouldn't expect that the film would be a living, breathing piece of art.
The elements of the film cannot even be understood by film scholars. Lynch himself has said that in the 25 or more years it has been out that no critic or viewer has given an interpretation that is in line with his own. There appear to be prevalent themes of sexuality and conception, not to mention claustrophobia and physical discomfort in simply living. The film is definitely very affecting on a visceral level in certain scenes where Lynch appears to deconstruct the simplicity of family life and bring to the surface the inherent disgusting nature of feeding. Near the end, simple curiosity gets the best of the main character, played extraordinarily well-reserved by Jack Nance, and his mistake ends up causing his world to fall apart. Overall, the film logic seems to be one of a nightmare, an open-ended metaphor dealing with one man's fear of fatherhood.
Put simply, there is no other film like it. Not even Lynch's later work can compare. This is on the must-see list for any film student, however, it may be annoying and make absolutely no sense to the casual viewer.