#3: HARD TARGET (1993)

Don't hunt what you can't kill.

In historic Crescent City, men of little means and no hope are being hunted for sport, arranged by sociopath Emil Fouchon and his second-in-command Pik van Cleef. For the right price, the willing participant will be given a belt-strap filled with ten thousand dollars and ordered to follow only one guideline: run. Should the prey make it to the designated endpoint, he shall not only win the game, but also the cash in his belt—a ticket to a second chance. And all he has to risk is...his life. It's during one of these hunts where a homeless war veteran is felled by a hunter's arrow, and once it's become obvious that he's gone missing, his daughter, Natasha, comes to New Orleans to figure out what's become of him. It's there that she meets a poorly-dressed, mulleted, and nearly indecipherable local named Chance Boudreaux, whom she hires to guide her in traversing the criminal underbelly to find out once and for all what's happened to her father. They soon cross paths with a New Orleans police detective who seems hesitant to get involved, but does so only after learning that the institutions on which the police department depend may not just be corrupt, but in league with the very shadowy group of men she is investigating. It's not long after that the mystery of "the game" slowly starts to unravel, men are kicked across the world, and Chance Boudreaux slaps the head of his snake until it goes limp. Some men are sitting ducks; others are a HARD TARGET.

Hard Target was written by Chuck Pfarrer, also responsible for the loony Navy Seals, the awesome Darkman, and many other films that cause him cold shudders whenever someone whispers their titles even thousands of miles away (virusredplanetbarbwire uggggghhhhhhh), but the big reason behind Hard Target's "success" is a name infamous for high-testosterone, operatic, and completely unhinged action. A man who broke out in a big way on the international independent scene before coming to these American shores to make his domestic debut. So what director has bestowed upon us the most exaggerated western in history? Who has the fascination with doves, eye close-ups, unnecessary flips, trench coats, and post-production slow-motion?

Not who, but Woo. John Woo—the only director esteemed enough to appear twice in this top ten list of action absurdity is the crazyman also responsible for the number nine pick, Face/Off.

Hard Target was John Woo's first American film, and how that came to be has a couple different versions. Rumors abound it was Van Damme's urging that John Woo leave his native China to come and work on his first big American film (and this rumor is further perpetuated by Van Damme's own semi-autobiographical film JCVD). Other versions have it that it was Universal Pictures themselves who were courting the director, and that while Woo was receptive, he was actually pursuing Kurt Russell for the role of Chance Boudreaux (which not only would have been its own form of awesome—he already had the mullet and everything—but would seemingly put Van Damme's involvement in Woo's China-to-Hollywood migration in question). Added to that, Hard Target isn't groundbreaking just because it was the first American film of John Woo's career, but it was actually the first time an Asian filmmaker had directed what was considered a tentpole film for a major American studio. Because of this, during production, Universal execs were very nervous, being that one of their own had entrusted a multi-million dollar production to a director who spoke very little English, so it was requested that Hollywood superstar Sam Raimi, an executive producer on the picture, be on set in the event that he had to "take over" production—something that thankfully never happened.

A direct riff on the nearly 100-year-old short story "The Most Dangerous Game," which by 1993 had seen many interpretations, Hard Target appropriated the famous tale once again, this time as less of a satirical thriller and more as a western—right down to Boudreaux's "boots," his skill with a handgun (upside down though it may be), and his first on-screen appearance that has him sitting at a bar and the camera going in close on his eyes, which is not just a Woo trademark, but a western one. Take that, add the twangy guitar/finger-snaps score by Graeme Revell, the New Orleans storefronts indicative of an old west town, and that genre-defining battle of a few good versus many evil, and the western motif has never felt more at home. That the film is set in New Orleans solely to suit Van Damme's thick accent thankfully not only avoids handicapping Hard Target's western influences, but rather complements it quite well, in that it highlights the incompetence and corruption of the New Orleans police department (it wasn't often, in the western genre, that law enforcement were directly responsible for expunging the evil from their on-the-nose named town) while also heightening the economic disproportion that still exists in the Crescent City today.

Hard Target is immensely silly from beginning to end. A "guy" movie through and through, so much that the character of Natasha Binder (Yancy Butler) is painted to be utterly useless without the presence of a man to help her. She's not on screen for ten minutes before she's crying and getting slapped around by a group of thugs looking to rob and perhaps rape, opening the door for Van Damme to enter, destroy those men's limbs, and hand Natasha back her purse and admonish her for counting out her cash in public. In a "real" film, especially in the modern era where blockbusters like Mad Max: Fury Road are invading theaters with the inexplicably controversial notion that women can be pretty bad-ass, this kind of gross undervaluing of the female lead would be tantamount to misogyny, but in Hard Target, it's all for the best, as, no shit, it's Van Damme's name on the poster. That is why audiences have bought the tickets (this argument comes up again later), so that's what the filmmakers were going to provide. (It doesn't help that Butler appears to be on a heavy dose of lithium during her entire doe-eyed performance, anyway.)

Despite it being heavily inspired by the famous concept of one man hunting another for sport, the plot of Hard Target is the most inconsequential thing about it. Upon its initial theatrical release, even the most discerning critics and harshest reviews had no choice but to acknowledge the sheer spectacle of the film and the magnitude of the stunts, dismissive of the overall plot though they may have been. And in all honesty, had Van Damme, Henriksen, and these same gun battles and motorcycle stunts and explosions been surgically removed and implanted into an entirely different plot, it wouldn't have mattered. Nothing is really gained from the "man is the most dangerous game" concept beyond motivations for both our hero and our villain to eventually come head-to-head while taking a hundred lives in the process. That a group of rich men are selling organized murders of the poor eventually becomes nothing more than window dressing: Van Damme letting loose kicks and punches and gunshots and explosions would have sold any film in 1993. This time, it just so happened to be selling Hard Target.

THE GOOD GUY

Chance Boudreaux. Able seaman. Captain beater. Food critic. Deadbeat union member. Amateur detective-for-hire. Lifetime pedestrian. Bayou born-and-bred. Nephew to the oatmeal guy. Unlicensed punching bag. Doctor hater. Substitute masseuse. Snake wrangler.

Hard Target not only returns John Woo to the fold, but also our beloved Muscles from Brussels, who appeared here previously in the number six pick Universal Soldier. Following that 1992 display of macho bravado, Van Damme appeared in Nowhere to Run, offering an atypically understated performance, and provided a cameo as himself in the underrated Last Action Hero before donning the mullet, the trench coat, and the Timberlands of Chance Boudreaux. His take on the lone gunslinger with the mysterious past is as muted as one might expect—and cowboys certainly don't speak with a Belgian accent—but the posturing and bigger-than-life persona is certainly ever in place. Many of these western-hero characters were deeply flawed individuals shooting men through saloon windows not only because they were pretty pissed off and tired of everyone's shit, but because of that "r" word: redemption. Whether drunks, or aging, or guilty of some anonymous past indiscretion, they quite reluctantly embraced the honorary title of "hero." In Hard Target, Chance doesn't embrace that title due to any particular urge to redeem himself and make up for any especially haunting past sin—not only because the film begins and he's already clearly the hero, but because, frankly, the script for Hard Target ain't tryin' that hard. This is evident at the end when Fouchon demands to know why Boudreaux began meddling in his affairs and Boudreaux responds it's because he was bored.

Chance Boudreaux apparently knows everyone in New Orleans, from ornery diner waitresses, to homeless men, to seedy pornography advertisers, to madams at brothels. To the more discerning viewer, it would seem that such infamy would violate the preordained rules of the mysterious gunslinger, especially with the conflict taking place on the streets of his very own home, rather than the streets of a town into which he had just ridden. But where Van Damme may lack as a gunslinger in external construction he makes up for thematically. He's got the mysterious past down, he's kind of a lowlife, and he inserts himself into the inner workings of law enforcement once he realizes that they're kind of infantile without him. Plus he rides a horse during the finale while shooting a bunch of dudes, you idiots.

Up to this point, Van Damme had opened several films that were designed around his impressive fighting style, which pertained to their own sub-genre of the action world, and which were all nearly identical in their plots: man who fights well is drawn hesitantly into a fighting scenario out of sense of revenge or necessity and eventually wins the day. These films—Bloodsport, Kickboxer, Lionheart—are entertaining for what they are, but sometimes audiences want more—more violence, that is. More grue, more death, more destruction. Universal Soldier would be the first film with Van Damme as the star where the fighting styles are dialed down and guns are finally placed into his hands. After the one-two punch of Universal Soldier and then Hard Target, audiences were delighted to be seeing what they were seeing: Van Damme not just high-kicking dudes across Planet Earth, but seeing him whip out a gun and finishing his victims' descent into space.

In the mid-'90s, Van Damme was at the absolute height of his superstardom. In fact, Hard Target would prove to be the beginning of the end of his box office domination. Following on Hard Target's heels would be the first of three collaborations with filmmaker Peter Hyams, beginning with Timecop, the last film with Van Damme as the lead to make significant bank. While his immediate films to come would assure a modicum of silliness (Sudden Death is among the most entertaining of the Die Hard rip-offs), Hard Target would see Van Damme not just appearing in his most ridiculous film, and not at his most ridiculous looking, but would prove to be "the" film—the one in which the action hero idolized by genre fans would achieve the "one-man army" title and lay a record number of bad guys to waste, all while making the goofiest of faces every single solitary time he fired a gun.

THE BAD GUY

Emil Fouchon. Literal man hunter. Hyperbolic drug dealer. Cash slammer. Thompson Center Arms Contender wielder. Existentialist. The most infuriated pianist in existence.

Lance Henriksen is god of the b-movies and the greatest actor that will ever appear within these hallowed Murdered Men halls. The nicest man you have ever met is capable of playing the most sadistic, sociopathic villain this side of World War II. Long and better-known as having portrayed Bishop in Aliens, Ed Harley in several chapters of Pumpkinhead, Frank Black on cult television show Millennium, and "the Father" in personal favorite No Escape, Lance Henriksen can appear in the biggest piece of shit you've ever seen and make you glad you're watching it—that's the power behind his talent. He has been turning in extremely solid but mostly supporting character work ever since his first feature film appearance in Dog Day Afternoon back in the dark ages of 1975. Though his filmography lists a litany of titles that sound as unappealing as they likely are (his self-admitted "alimony movies"), there's one thing that can be guaranteed: no matter how many people in those films melt, or explode, or meet the teeth of aliens/mutant Bigfeet, Henriksen is going to be putting 100% into his performance as whatever good guy/bad guy/voice-over-only character that he's playing. He's as dedicated to his craft as they come, hailing from the old school of method-acting. Motherfucker was so in-tune that he for-realsies allowed himself to be set on fire in the third-act scene of Hard Target, during which the flames flared a bit more than anyone anticipated, forcing him to rip off his fiery coat and hurl it at the nearest wall..all while staying in character to complete the scene. That cool thing you did once and keep telling people about?

It will never be that cool.

What makes all the films featured in Top Ten Murdered Men so worthy of celebration is admittedly that delectable permeation of irony—that undercurrent of unintended humor that heightens the level of audience enjoyment. To be specific, would Hard Target have benefited from utilizing another performer as the lead (like Kurt Russell) who could not only display the kind of skillful choreography of which Van Damme was capable, but all while offering a solid performance free of the kind of foreign-tongued baggage that's come to define so many of our action stars? Sure, more than one person would argue that a stronger performance makes for a stronger film. But what kind of film needs to be strengthened? Which aspect would be ultimately reinforced? Would it benefit anyone at all if one could go back in time and start plugging stronger aspects into Hard Target, in effect creating a "better" film? Fuck no. Hard Target is a product of both purposeful and accidental sensibilities, a beautiful amalgamation of success and failure—and this more than includes the somewhat stunted performance by our leading split-doer. The legendary status that Hard Target has achieved has everything to do with the "shortcomings" of its own production.

While Henriksen is fully aware of the over-the-top nature of the story and that it's not to be taken seriously, he knows that the best way to contribute is to dial up his performance of Emil Fouchon way past eleven. If Boudreaux's arch nemesis plays the piano, then he's going to play the ever loving fucking shit out of that piano, slamming every key with a near-maniacal look of unbridled fury splayed across his face. If he's going to dismissively throw money at an obese underling, he's going to slam that money across his fat back so hard he may as well be trying to slam it through him. If someone has the audacity to die slowly in front of him of a snake bite, thereby sincerely inconveniencing him, he's going to step on the corpse-to-be's chest and growl, "I'll fuck you, and then I'll eat you" before suggesting that his men "die quieter." And if, near the end, Fouchon realizes that he's losing control over "the game," he's not just going to react in anger—he's going to spin disjointedly, surrounded by flames, bellowing at the wall, screaming indecipherably, grunting like an uncaged animal following years of vicious abuse. Saliva will spatter from his mouth as he screams primal threats into the air surrounding them all, pure ferocity emanating from his every fiber. "There isn't a country in the world I haven't fired a bullet in!" he screams. "You can't kill me! I'm on every battlefield!" Castor Troy was a cartoon villain, as was Andrew Scott and Manny Fraker before him. But Emil Fouchon feels dangerous, and the mythos of his character is deeply unsettling. As he makes it known in the film, Fouchon and co. have traveled throughout not just Louisiana, and not just the United States, but the entire world, setting up games of ritualized murder for the super rich. He's become super rich by selling not just men, but the opportunity to kill those men, to the wealthiest of sociopaths—people so bored with their vast fortunes that it takes controlled-setting murder to feel alive again. And in one particular scene when his client shows hesitation about satisfying their contract—shows immense unease at the mere idea of taking another man's life—Fouchon becomes incensed, ordering him to finish the job before walking away and muttering, "God, why didn't he just go fishing?" This is all because Fouchon feels nothing, no empathy whatsoever toward his fellow man. He's not just disappointed that his client won't take advantage of his delivered prey, but it actually enrages him, as if "the game" were just another everyday activity. His entire being is predicated on selling lives, and the notion that other people aren't as enthusiastic about such a thing doesn't just confound him, but infuriates him.

There's nothing ironically good about Henriksen's performance. Every seemingly silly thing is not a happy accident, nor is it going for one thing but inadvertently achieving something different. Henriksen's performance is by careful, distinctive design. For once, the actor playing the villain is fully in on the joke and embraces it to maximum effect.

In a move similar to that of Steven Seagal's during the post-production on Out for Justice, it was at Van Damme's orders that Henriksen's scenes be reduced in the final cut, as he was likely concerned about being upstaged in the very film where he played the lead role. This longer cut—known as the "John Woo workprint version"—has become long sought-after in the bootleg market and sadly has never materialized anywhere in any legitimate form.

From Wiki:

Van Damme went with his own editor to make his own edit of the film. Van Damme's version excises whole characters to insert more scenes and close-ups of his character Chance. When asked about this edit, Van Damme replied that, "People pay their money to see me, not to see Lance Henriksen."

While Van Damme's presence will always guarantee a certain attraction, Hard Target could have only benefited from further pure and unfiltered Lance Henriksen. Simply put, there's praise, there's hyperbole, and then there's truth: no one in the world could have played the role of Emil Fouchon with the same gravitas, the same bombastic approach, and lastly, the same sincerity.

Pik van Cleef. Number two of Emil Fouchon. Literal ear-lowerer. Scissors stabber. Heffer hater. Feelings considerer. Potential Irishman.

Arnold Vosloo was Mummy.

THE CASUALTIES

The Bad Guys

One motorcyclist shoots a gas can thrown at him (?) and turns into a full-on conflagration. One getaway driver and one motorcyclist receive bullets into their person. One motorcyclist gets his neck broken by an almighty boot. One motorcyclist takes several bullets before getting slammed head-on by another motorcycle. One henchman gets blown up by some exploding moonshine. One henchman gets pulverized by a shotgun...while in a helicopter...which was fired from a horse. One motorcyclist catches a gas can tossed his way before it's shotgunned, blowing him into beautiful smithereens and his motorcycle through a window. Two henchmen are literally shotgunned INTO fire. One henchman gets choked out with the butt of a shotgun before receiving a tremendous spin-kick to the face and is later shot nine times with a handgun. Another motorcyclist receives more of the same. One henchman gets an arrow through the neck. One leather-clad misogynist gets shot pointblank in the chest. One cowboy-clad henchman gets a dose of hot lead. Two more henchmen get double-handgunned. Three henchmen get riddled with bullets, the last of them falling down the stairs. Thee more henchmen, one of whom drops a grenade, get red holes blown in them. One henchman gets whipped in the face with a grenade wrapped in a shirt and killed by the shotgun stolen from his startled hands. van Cleef gets shot so many times even the NRA cringed from the excess and closed their Twitter account.

The Good Guys

One homeless man (a cameo from the film's screenwriter) and father to our damsel in distress is shot with painful looking arrows before drowning in a river. One corrupt doctor (the sheriff from Friday the 13th: Part 5—A New Beginning who says "it's Jason Voorhees!" and gets an ashtray thrown at him) gets shot in the eye through his door's peephole. One Vietnam veteran is hunted through the graveyard, but actually manages to take out the hunter who paid to kill him, before being executed in the street with an automatic weapon (during which a few innocent bystanders may or may not meet their ends.) One very obese games arranger gets the top of his head blown off at pointblank range via shotgun. Detective Mitchell (Candyman's Kasi Lemmons) gets sheared by a shotgun blast before taking several more MP4 shots to the chest.

THE BEST KILL

No contest. Boudreaux standing entirely up on a motorcycle leaking gasoline and heading straight for a Bronco full of bad guys, and then LEAPING over the entire vehicle in time to shoot them from behind and blow them the fuck up, not only takes the cake for best kill, but frankly, should be in every movie in existence.

Runner up goes to Boudreaux shooting Sven-Ole Thorsen far more times than the clip of his upside handgun allows—29 shots, to be exact—before delivering a completely unnecessary roundhouse kick to the face of the man whom, at that point, is quite obviously very dead.

THE DAMAGE

Boudreaux gets manhandled during the first act while doing some investigatory work. He's later punched in the face, cut on the arm, and beaten with a fiery 2x4. He also ends up in front of several explosions, none of which seem to faze him in any way beyond propelling him nearer to the next man he needs to shoot.

And in case you're wondering, Uncle Douvet (Wilford Brimley) gets stabbed with an arrow, but no one really gives a shit about this character, do they?

THE BAD GUY'S COMEUPPANCE

Boudreaux fires a pretty gnarly shotgun into Fouchon's shoulder, sending him flipping backwards across the room before rushing at him, delivering the most bad-ass jump kick of the film, followed by an array of kicks to the chest, punches to the face, and one grenade dropped down his pants. To his credit, Henriksen manages to upstage his own death sentence by at first laughing at what he assumes to be a dud of a grenade before seeing its spark ignite to blow him to confetti, punctuating his life with "oop!"

THE LINE

"Hunting season is over."

THE VERDICT

A parody of Hard Target would look exactly like Hard Target, and that's why it rules as hard as it does. What may not have been ludicrous in 1993 is very ludicrous now, and it only adds to the enjoyment. Van Damme delivers his most satisfying film in the sub-genre of absurd action, Henriksen provides an award-winning performance as the ultimate unhinged villain, and John Woo somehow manages to create spectacle that's even more absurd than that other film he made about the two men who switch faces, live, and spend two hours trying to kill each other with broken glass. Hard Target's original incarnation may have been sullied by the ego of one particular mullet-sporting high-kicker, but there's no denying that the finished product was a full-on bull's-eye.

NO ESCAPE aka ESCAPE FROM ABSOLUM (1994)

If you’ve heard of 1994’s Escape from Absolom at all, it’s likely by its American title, No Escape (not the Owen Wilson film of the same name). Though it opened #1 at the box office during its weekend debut, it would ultimately fail to make back its production budget, relegating it to live in home video obscurity. Director Martin Campbell (Goldeneye, Casino Royale), relatively unknown at that time, helms an adaption of Richard Herley’s obscure 1987 novel The Penal Colony and staffs it mainly with character actors — and Ray Liotta, in a rare heroic leading man role. The likes of Stuart Wilson (Death and the Maiden), Ernie Hudson (Ghostbusters), the immeasurably cool Lance Henriksen (Aliens), a very pre-Entourage Kevin Dillon, and many more “hey, it’s that guy!” folks fill out the diverse cast — none of whom would be considered box office draws.

No Escape was one of the many unexpected titles I thrived on as a kid; a version recorded off television (likely the now-defunct Prism) enjoyed dozens of revolutions in our trusty VCR. Though it’s fairly violent, the idea of two warring prisoner factions attacking each other’s very rustic fortresses clad in armor and wielding weapons both futuristic as well as primitive and obviously made from forest implements was hugely alluring to a child’s overactive imagination. No Escape, in a sense, actually plays like an adult person of Hook, with the Insiders (good guys) taking on the adult counterpart roles of the Lost Boys who live by their own code and with their own sense of order. Houses are constructed from logs and tree trunk wood, clothes are burlap, weapons and armor are fashioned from bamboo, and the less said about their food, the better. And then, like a grown up and cynical Peter Pan, Ray Liotta’s John Robbins drops unexpectedly into their lives — although, instead of re-learning how to fly, he learns how to kill a bunch of bad dudes alongside other people instead of killing a bunch of bad dudes by his lonesome.

Additionally interesting is the dichotomy of the prison island’s inhabitants, because everyone on the island deserves to be there — everyone has taken lives — but yet the prisoners naturally deflect to either side. If you’re semi-bad but bare some regret for your shiftless life, you become an Insider and you live as an undersupplied and undernourished member of what’s essentially a poor community, but if you’re really bad, you become a member of the Outsiders — the baddest of the bad who are offered a very unfair advantage by the Warden, who drops off supplies from a helicopter (which include the aforementioned futuristic weapons) to ensure the two factions remain constantly at war. Even among prisoners, the Insiders strive to be good, under the paternal guidance of The Father (Henriksen). The film acknowledges that, yes, people can make poor choices, but even when living in the physical manifestation of oblivion where there is no chance of salvation — where there’s nothing to be gained from living in peace; there’s no such thing as time off for good behavior — some still choose to live as good men anyway.

Liotta’s John Robbins is an interesting lead; even when the hardened bad-ass Marine eventually softens, Liotta still plays him as intimidating and slightly cold, unwilling to grow close to any of the men. In particular, Robbins takes Kevin Dillon’s Casey, a young and hapless would-be kidnapper, under his wing (sort of)…yet he still maintains a detectably off-putting presence toward him. He’s that film father who offers tough love from the very start, and only at the end when his ice melts does he reveal himself as someone empathetic and warm; here, however, this film father fails on that second part. Liotta can play warm — 2001’s mediocre drug flick Blow proves this — but in No Escape, where he’s playing the hero for the first time in his career, he seems to have trouble playing someone strong and heroic but also someone who surrenders to the warmth and shared community of the Insiders’ camp. As such, the audience never fully warms up to him, even as he slowly sheds his lone-wolf sensibilities in favor of living in a community — or the closest thing to it he can find.

Much of No Escape can be explored and further analyzed; its futuristic setting (sort of — this movie takes place in or around 2022, which is depressingly right around the corner) is once again a warning on where a failing society can lead: rich vs. poor exaggerated to the nth degree, and the idea of a for-profit prison system are two aspects of the plot that are still in constant conversation today.

GONE ARE THE DAYS (2018)

You don’t see much of the western anymore, especially in the low budget direct-to-video world. A combination of waning audience interest in the genre and the costs of shooting a period film have mostly to do with this. It’s nice when the western is still trotted out from time to time, but it’s even nicer when that western comes courtesy of a filmmaker who is clearly trying to do something more than just the usual shoot’em-up that appeals to the lowest common denominator of the genre. In the same way that very good and very bad horror films can enjoy similarly quiet releases, Gone Are the Days proves that the western can suffer the same obscure fate.

What’s readily apparent right off the bat is that Gone Are the Days is borrowing from the Unforgiven mold, arguably Clint Eastwood’s masterpiece as a director, in that it's another take on an aging cowboy reckoning with the sins of his past, confronting his mortality, and embarking on one last mission. Gone Are the Days at least adds a twist on this simple formula by borrowing from another, and less likely, source: Martin Scorsese’s little seen 1999 drama Bringing Out the Dead, in which Nicolas Cage plays a frazzled paramedic psychologically haunted by the ghost of a girl he wasn’t able to save, and with whom he occasionally interacts. This offers Gone Are the Days a bit of poignancy and meaning beyond your aging cowboy being a cowboy and doing typical cowboy things. At least as far as the western goes, this small Dickensian slice offers Gone Are the Days a sense of its own identity, even if it’s basing its plot on a well worn concept.

From now until the end of time I will tell anyone who listens that Lance Henriksen is the most undervalued actor alive. The man bleeds talent in every role he has ever played, even if the last two decades of his work have been relegated to quiet genre titles no one ever sees (his “alimony movies” as he calls them). To mainstream audiences, he’s belovedly known as Bishop from Aliens and a handful of sequel appearances. To cult audiences, he’s Frank Black from Millennium and Ed Harley from Pumpkinhead. To action audiences, the villain from Van Damme’s Hard Target. This list goes on and on, into every genre there is and with every kind of character played. Regardless of the quality of those films, I’ll guarantee Henriksen’s performance was high-tier in every single one. So as he steps into the William Munny shoes of the aging (and dying) cowboy Taylon, Henriksen not only embodies the character but also pays respect to his entire career. (He played a cowboy three times in 1995 alone: Gunfighter’s Moon, Jim Jarmusch’s Dead Man, and Sam Raimi’s majestically dumb The Quick and the Dead.)  As to be expected, he’s superb here, as he is in everything else.

While the artwork presents the likes of Danny Trejo and Tom Berenger, neither of whom are exactly commanding theatrical releases anymore, don’t let that dictate what kind of film you’ll actually be seeing. Without getting into spoiler territory, let’s just say Trejo is used exactly as he should be in this kind of movie, whereas Berenger very comfortably slips into the role of a western lawman doing a fair bit of aging on his own. He doesn’t just play “the villain” because, except for a small role by cult actor Steve Railsback, there really is no villain. Because Gone Are the Days isn’t that kind of film.

The most impressive aspect of Gone Are the Days is its willingness to strive for something more. It’s very philosophical and even haunting in some ways, and it’s also very very old fashioned — from its musical score to its final shot. As a film it’s not a total success, as the plot can become a little wayward at times, but the action is always moving forward, whether that’s noticeable or not. Henriksen, in a rare leading role, sells both Taylon’s weakness and resolve, and Berenger does strong work in his smaller part. While, of course, Gone Are the Days comes nowhere near the heights of Unforgiven, it’s still a fine and admirable film, one fitting for Henriksen’s storied career, and a nice reminder that small surprises like these can still be found in quiet releases. Gone Are the Days isn’t for everyone, but I would recommend that everyone give it a try, anyway. You might just be surprised, too.

PIRANHA 2: THE SPAWNING (1981)

Do you know how many entries there are in the Piranha series? You know, the series about hordes of mutant killer fish chewing people to bloody death?

Five.

FIVE.

And maybe except for the very first, none of them are what I’d consider to be collection-worthy, but, as the genre tends to go, one’s own sensibilities will determine the series’ mileage.

It may not surprise you to hear that the King of the World himself, James Cameron, has a pretty low opinion of his feature debut, Piranha 2: The Spawning (released in some territories as Piranha 2: Flying Killers), but then again, he seems to think Avatar was a pretty good movie, so who knows! The sequel follows the original Piranha, directed by Joe Dante and scripted by John Sayles, which contained a very subtle sense of humor and served primarily as a thinly-veiled parody of JAWS. The only sense of humor associated with Piranha 2 is the laughter coming from the audience watching it. A silly, absurd, and very cheaply made monster movie, Piranha 2 benefits/suffers (depending on what kind of experience you want) from being a co-Italian production, who tend to go for the throat in terms of badness.

Like the original, the titular beasts don’t get much screen time (I’d swear there’s even less piranha in this sequel than its predecessor). It’s to Cameron’s credit that the approach to Piranha 2 is laden with more sincerity than was probably required (or even asked for). After all, the piranha can fly this time, which one would thing would make for, at the very least, a whirlwind of a finale. But it would seem for every pair of plastic wings affixed to a plastic fish, said plastic fish would lose a minute of screen time.

Piranha 2 attempts to mine humor from the amorous elderly and the horniness of teenagers, but beyond that, it’s played mostly straight; normally I much prefer bad horror when it’s being serious, but I’m not sure a fully comedic angle would have worked in the favor of Piranha 2, anyway. It’s good for bursts of violence rendered by flying, carnivorous, warbling, shaking mutant piranha, but beyond that, it’s a struggle to watch.

If any good, non-ironic thing can be said about Piranha 2, it’s the (rare) lead performance from character actor and genre favorite Lance Henriksen (surname misspelled in the credits), whom I’ve spent years praising for being a dependable, talented, and severely underrated actor. Piranha 2 is dumb. It’s one of the most brainless horror movies you might ever see. But Henriksen’s typically serious approach to the character is the lone stabilizing presence the film has that helps to keep it grounded — or, at least, as grounded as a movie about flying, carnivorous, warbling, mutant piranha can be.

REVIEW: IT'S IN THE BLOOD

John Carpenter often tells a story about there being two kinds of evil in the world: The first is the otherworldly evil - the supernatural - that surrounds us; and the second is the evil inside all of us, our bloodthirsty impulses compelled by our reptile brains.

The same can be said about demons.

October (Sean Elliot) has returned to the hometown where he spent his childhood for what appears to be an annual hiking trip with his father, whom he instead refers to as "Russell" (played by the immeasurably and perpetually cool Lance Henriksen). It would seem that October avoided the family tradition of becoming sheriff of their local town and instead opted off to medical school, where his photographic memory made him quite adept at memorizing a numberless amount of medical texts. (Indeed, his own voice seems to haunt him as he attempts to help a dog ensnared in a coyote trap, and it guides him into what he needs to do to save the poor canine.) The relationship between father and son seems to be a shaky and uncomfortable one, and at first we're not really sure why. But as the hiking trip unfolds, so does the story. Through the aid of angered dialogue and hazy flashbacks, we start to put together the story as it's being fed to us. Once emotions are running high on both sides is when the "figures" (the only way I can describe them) begin to come out of hiding. And I say figures, plural, because while some are tall with alien-like slender bodies, others look like deranged mutants - a crab crossed with a hog crossed with I couldn't even say. One even appears to be made of billowing black smoke. So when a nasty fall leaves Russell unable to walk, and with these mysterious figures closing in, father and son must shake off the past that has seemed to put permanent enmity between them and fight for their very survival.

The very first thing you notice about It's in the Blood is that, for what will probably eventually be sold as a generic creature feature starring the guy who's made dozens of them already, it is strikingly directed by Scooter Downey. Right off the bat you can see that the material is being approached in as serious a manner as possible. After opening with a brief and legitimately creepy scene, we travel back in time to meet our main character. Sean Elliott's October sits quietly on the side of a road reading a text book. And you can see that October isn't your typical kid. Even as he sits and reads, and when a someone comes along to give the hitchhiking kid a ride, you can sense there's not something quite right about him. Not in a menacing or dangerous way, but in a way that makes you feel he's lived a lifetime already.

Additionally, Henriksen's first appearance is handled with equal thought. Because he is the one with recognition, so many times has he or other famous cult actors like him made their first appearance with their backs to the camera, only to turn for the big reveal so the cult audience who loves these actors can gasp and say, "Oh, it's him!" But no, this time around, Henriksen is on screen for what feels like several minutes, in the background, onscreen from the waist down, and out of focus, his voice the only sign of his presence. And it's for no other reason than because we are about to experience the unfolding of a story, which will be peeled back layer by layer. We're only given a little bit to go on at a time, and this begins with our two main leads. We're being eased into this just as they are, because while our two leads are obviously already well acquainted, the mangled history they share will finally come to light between them, just as it will for the audience.

If you've been following this blog for some time, I'm sure my utter man love for Lance Henriksen should probably be well known. He is not one of but the most underrated actor of our time. He brings his A-game to every film he is apart of, regardless of whether or not said film has even a remote chance of succeeding. Unfortunately, his work in A-List material has been relegated to cameos in the ridiculous Jennifer's Body and the very lame When A Stranger Calls remake. It pains me to see him offered so little except low budget horror that most people will never see. And it's even worse after watching him in It's in the Blood because he's so goddamned good. He effortlessly slips into the role as small town father, and his attempts to feel like, or at least come across as, a father feel absolutely genuine. He knows that shit's gone sour between the two and it's the last thing he wants. So if trying to teach his son to drive stick on a desolate road, imploring him to drive faster and faster - if that will help bring the two together, then he's willing to try it. We have seen Henriksen play the bad ass or the maniac for so long that when we see him playing a broken down, flawed character, especially one capable of showing real fear, he becomes even more humanized. We forget that he was ever Bishop, or Jesse Hooker. Russell might be the closest we've ever gotten to Frank Black. (As an aside, I wish Lance Henriksen were my friend. My life would be greatly improved by that, I think.)

It's important you know that It's in the Blood, while creepy, is a nearly brutal film to endure. Pretty paradoxical given that it's also pretty slow-burn and not terribly graphic. But it's brutal, not because of the violence, but because of the strength of the memories our two characters have tried to bury. They come back and they scream and sob in their faces and they demand to be remembered.

Scooter Downey establishes a very frantic aesthetic, as he wants to physically realize the demons residing in October and Russell's heads. He wants the audience to feel just as disoriented and grimy and haunted as our characters do, and for the most part this is achieved. Whether or not he goes a little overboard at times will obviously be decided by the viewer. Much like this year's Exit Humanity, I'm overjoyed to see a concept like this approached with such sincerity and maturity, so I can forgive the abundance of early Oliver Stone-like frenetic editing (and the, perhaps, overwrought scene of... er... impromptu necessary surgery.)

It's pretty amazing that this film is derived from the efforts of a bunch of first-timers. It is Downey's directorial debut, and Elliott's first time as writer and producer. His previous work as an actor consists of very limited screen time in a scant few films, but here he holds the screen quite handily as if he were a seasoned pro. In my experience, most young actors want only to participate in high profile projects where they can either look good doing it, or "prove" they should be taken seriously. But it takes true balls to realize a project, fund it, bring it to realization, and then on top of that, be responsible for 50% of the audience's sympathies. It's a tough order to fill, but one easily satisfied here.

Everyone involved in It's in the Blood deserves accolades, attention, and respect. It proves that Henriksen is still a force to be reckoned with (as if we needed that reminder), and it proves that, once again, all you need to make low budget horror work is brains and heart, not the almighty dollar.

It's in the Blood is now available via iTunes as well as Amazon and other VOD services.

DAY THREE: RECOMMENDED VIEWING – THE CURSE OF FRANK BLACK

 

I am huge fan of "The X Files." Yes, I agree the show stayed on the air for far too long, not to mention The X Files: I Want to Believe should have been a lot better than it was. But I will always and forever remain a fan (and never give up hope on a third/final movie.) I bring this up because once "The X Files" had established itself as a television force to be reckoned with during its mid-‘90s, its creator, Chris Carter, was able to use his new it boy status to create another show for the Fox channel. This show was called "Millennium." It was very unfortunately short lived, lasting only three seasons, and already starting to lose its way midway through season two. But the first season of "Millennium" remains superior to any season of "The X Files," and that’s really saying something.

For those unaware (and most non-horror devotees seem to be so), "Millennium" was a one-hour drama starring Lance Henriksen as a serial killer profiler working for the mysterious Millennium Group. Billed more psychological thriller than supernatural, the first season was fairly straightforward. It was about a man named Frank Black who used his exceptional abilities of getting inside a killer’s mind (figuratively, not literally) to try and obtain the motives behind his/her crimes and the reasoning behind it. It was a surprisingly dark show for a network that at the time was known basically for screwball comedy, including "The Simpsons" and "Mad TV." While "Millennium" was a slam-dunk with critics, garnering Lance Henriksen three Emmy nominations for his performances in all three seasons, the audience simply wasn’t there. Because of this, behind-the-scenes pressure (assumed pressure, anyway) forced Chris Carter to allow the show to lean more toward the supernatural in hopes of attracting the massive audience who tuned in weekly for "The X Files."  It was this direction change that became the catalyst for "Millennium" sadly losing its way.

Season two of the show is great, but as it unfolds you can see it threatening to come off the rails. Lance Henriksen’s devotion to the role remains unfettered, and season two produced more than its fair share of great episodes.

Including this recommended viewing for Halloween night: Episode 2x6.

“The Curse of Frank Black.”

The episode aired on Halloween night back in the dark ages of 1997, and the episode itself takes place on said night.

Frank, now separated from his wife, Catherine, sits at home carving a jack-o-lantern and waiting for the right time to go pick up his daughter, Jordan, to take her trick-or-treating.  Suddenly his electronics begin to go haywire, and the number “268” routinely pops up seemingly everywhere. Frank recognizes that it’s odd, but leaves to go pick up his daughter…and sees the Devil outside his home.

And his nightmarish, unending Halloween night of terror begins.

Frank spends the episode forced to reacquaint himself with ghosts from his past—ranging from his childhood to even as recently as the events of the previous season (not even a year in the "Millennium" timeline).

In a long flashback sequence, Frank recalls his chance meeting with Mr. Crocell (Dean Winters, best known for his comedic roles on "30 Rock" and as “Mayhem” in the Allstate commercials), a very scarred WWII veteran on whose door young Frank knocks while trick or treating with friends. You see, Mr. Crocell, though young, had obtained the reputation of being “the creepy old guy” who lived in a ramshackle house and almost never showed his face. He was thought to be insane, a killer, or live in a haunted house. And it was because of a Halloween dare that young Frank knocked on his door. Later on in this flashback sequence, Frank, now a teen, watches as Mr. Crocell is removed from his home in a body bag after having taken his own life.

Back in the present, Frank finds himself back in his old neighborhood, where he had once lived happily with his wife and daughter. He enters his old house, now uninhabited, and eavesdrops on a bunch of thrill-seeking teens as one of them talks about “the Curse of Frank Black,” and about the death of Frank’s good friend, Bletcher, who died in that same house at the hands of a reoccurring villain through the show's run.

Frank is nearly dismayed to hear that, in the same way Mr. Crocell had been the one painted as the crazy, old man during his youth, it would now seem, according to these kids, that he was the one who had taken up that mantle. Frank was now the crazy, old man. And he’s not happy about that—he’s not willing to accept his new status as the lonely, mysterious, and perhaps dangerous member of the neighborhood. In the same way he doesn’t want his family tarnished by the dangerous work he involves himself in, he doesn’t want his reputation tarnished by neighborhood gossip. And not in an egotist way, but in a way where he feels they are one in the same. Whether all in his mind, or in a walking nightmare come to life during the power of Halloween night, Mr. Crocell tells Frank that the life Crocell lived is the life Frank is risking living himself if he does not give up his work and focus on his family.

"The Curse of Frank Black" is probably the creepiest "Millennium" episode there is. The setting of Halloween night (including its dark, windy, and foggy weather) helps to make it extra creepy.  It’s the type of night we Halloween enthusiasts wish for every year. When I was a kid and begged for candy, then yeah, I preferred Halloween to be nice, sunny, and warm enough so I didn’t freeze to death. But now, as an adult (kind of), I want my Halloween nights to be windy, leaf-strewn, and creepy. And this episode certainly satisfies that requirement.

Director Ralph Hemecker, mostly a veteran of television shows like "The X Files," "Numbers," and "Blue Bloods," manages to infuse a lot of creepy imagery and ideas into this episode. And he manages to use the image of the Devil, probably one of the most over-used images in horror history, to extreme effect, giving you faraway, split-second, “did I just see that?” shots of the fork-tailed beast from below.

For non-fans of the series, the episode is still a very effective watch. No, you won’t understand all the references and the ins and outs, but for its mood, tone, and imagery alone, it’s a more than worthy Halloween night watch.

Plus, it’s only about 40 minutes without commercials. What have you got to lose?

IT'S IN THE BLOOD

After watching this striking trailer (which I don't do, ever, because trailers ruin everything), this has shot to the top of my most anticipated list. Wasn't sure what to think at first because though I love Lance Henriksen, his need for "alimony movies" seemed to take over the majority of his career for the last decade. This, however, looks fantastic.

SUDDENLY MILLENNIUM

MadTV was never really that funny. But man...they nailed this one.