Bats! Bats! Bats! 🦇

 

Bats! Bats! Bats! 🦇

By Kristin Battestella

It's time to put on our serious film criticism caps for some chiroptera pictures that don't take themselves so seriously. 🦇

Bats – Terribly dressed necking teens suffer flapping whooshes, bat shrieks, and strobe splatter in this 1999 mutant bats run amok so bad it's good written by John Logan (Penny Dreadful) starring Sheriff Lou Diamond Phillips (La Bamba) and scientist Dina Meyer (Starship Troopers). Picturesque Mountains, blue skies, desert rocks, technobabble, batology jokes, and Latin names are for the audience as CDC credentials are repeated and multiple plane trips finally get everyone to the scene. Everything before the autopsy analysis, gory cadavers, and jugular bite marks suggesting what's afoot could have been excised because we know bats are the culprit. The escaped subjects, scientific deduction, and government red tape move fast as the mayor worries about the newspaper headlines. Old computer graphics and folding maps demonstrate the spread risk despite the human arrogance, shady officials, and talkative, repetitive dire. It is smart, however, that we don't see some ridiculous monster bats immediately – screeches, swooping, bats breaking in, and the colony eyes lighting up at fresh prey provide innate unease. Most of the comic relief is unnecessary and misplaced when the situation is already preposterous yet chilling. People freak and flail while country music plays, babies lay in cribs beside the open windows, and bats await while the trucker eats his tater tots. The mayor warns people, but “everybody in Texas thinks they know everything about everything,” a surprisingly spot on observation on how people who don't listen and think they know best acerbate the horror. Although this wants to be The Birds and it isn't that clever, trapped deaths, wings enveloping the face, and bats seeming to enjoy pinning their terrified victims are disturbing. Guns aren't going to do anything, and the growling cloud comes on so fast to those unprepared. Distorted bat points of view accent the well done animatronics and lengthy action sequences – the CGI looks better than today's rushed fix it in post effects – but the melodramatic exclaims and stupid behaviors get old fast and the bats retreat for cinematic convenience. Fortifying the school while listening to opera, making lots of coffee, going to the roost itself, military not helping them, military dropping gear, convenient mines – pointless activity and mixed motivations make for a disjointed back and forth almost deliberately designed for flicking the television channels or missing something after commercial breaks. Maniacal, laughable scientists and deliberately released bats aren't shocking as reveals we already know pad the one step forward two steps back to meet ninety minutes. It takes an hour for anyone to consider using a frosty fire extinguisher or air conditioners, dialogue is lifted directly from Aliens, and the military is taken out off screen so our heroes can swim in the guano. Bombing countdowns, keys to the machinery, and bat shootouts add one snag in the plan after another, and it's easy to zone out or forget what the goal is. One wonders why this fly by night product is Rated R, and the science and government serious or self aware humor and horror never finds the right approach. Fortunately, it's all a bemusingly bad romp perfect for a fun midnight roast.

Nightwing – Desert silhouettes, sunset vistas, and Anasazi ruins are beautiful but eerie, rocky, and perilous in this 1979 adaptation directed by Arthur Hiller (Love Story). Henry Mancini (Romeo and Juliet) music and Crystal Gale on the radio accent the dusty roads, rustic jeeps, and cowboy hats as unexplained animal deaths acerbate Hopi Reservation friction between Maski police, Pahana councils, and Indian Bureau technicalities. Our deputy can't believe in prophecies to embrace your inner coyote warrior when the trailer clinic doesn't have neonatal necessities and basic medical care to which all Americans are supposed to be entitled. Stereotypical white savior Strother Martin (Slap Shot) is married to a local yet complains how the Meskwaki are ungrateful for his bare minimum services. Arguments keep the horror succinct – blood lose, bite marks, ammonia – as the outcast shaman warns of broken circles and beasts coming to end the world. The tricked out station wagon with backseat microscopes and satellite dishes on the roof encounters stampedes, dead sheep, bubonic plague, and doctors paid off despite the blood on the white burial cloth. Patronizing oil men say there's no time for stoned priests and visions of the deceased when there is money to be made. Souvenirs and superstition versus tissue samples and sulfur research increase gossip about who's Christian or believes in witches and rain dances. Those wanting to prove that they aren't drunk doll making fanatics aren't wrong. Do you prospect on sacred ground because money is the white man's god and that means schools and medicine for your people? Nature is indiscriminate but people will profit on the deceased for the right price. Backstabbing villains reveal their true selfishness, more concerned about oil deals then quarantines or alerting state authorities. Hymn singing white tourists don't want to hear blasphemy that all religion begins as superstition, but those disbelievers of local ways are who we see horribly attacked – before trampling old ladies to save themselves. Some swooping action and bad bats are laughable, but the practical effects look nicer than our poor CGI as the howling winds, screeching, hissing, and screams shatter the bleak desert night. Torches and hazmat suits lead to empty graves and underground chambers amid broken down vehicles, 128F heat, and transistor trackers. Bat specialist David Warner's (Wallander) flourishing, no fear vampire bringers of death soliloquies paint bats as the quintessence of evil in Shakespeare meets Jaws chilling as the freaky little teeth chew their way in when the electric fence falters. For those expecting horror a minute, this will be slow and overlong. Outside of George Clutesi (Prophecy), the cast is also unfortunately not Native American or First Nations. Despite some weak effects and mystical convenience, the well done drama comes full circle thanks to real bat footage, dangerous spelunking, and conflict beyond the horror warning us not to dismiss practices we don't understand. I'm surprised the ahead of its time statements were so ill received then, but it's downright eerie to watch this now in the Covid world – and not because of the bats.

Vampire Bats – Professor Lucy Lawless (Xena: Warrior Princess) leads this 2005 TV movie padded with unnecessary hip college action, dated music, bad dancing, cool lingo, and terrible style. The raves, booze, neon, and bad aughts attitudes should have been excised for opening with mom Lucy struggling with breakfast, no air conditioning, house renovations, and back to school. This domestic stress doesn't need the frenetic camera work thanks to boxes, toys, and pesky sister Brett Butler (Grace Under Fire) babysitting. Night fisherman Craig Ferguson (The Late Late Show) also adds enough winking humor in a stereotypical attack with a lot of looking up, spinning cameras, and screams. Seeing police question students as the teacher intervenes is better than the unnecessary party beginning as our professor inspects the deceased – identifying bite marks, unknown fangs, and the absence of blood. The nettlesome mayor doesn't want to panic the public over bat droppings, but strobe transitions of newspapers with vampire headlines held up to the camera are lame, distracting from debates about putting family first and letting the authorities handle the unexplained. It's shrewd that we don't see bad special effects attacks, however setting up a scary frat scene only to cut away from the potential horror seems pointless. The batty overlays and cartoonish CGI at the cocktail party also don't match the action as people knock over tables and fall amid dizzying, hectic photography. Fortunately, bats under the dock, hanging from the church eaves, or swirling above the moonlit waters and up close shots of the little bloodsuckers are choice atmosphere. Classroom discussion about habitat and environment or bats as parasites not killers should be the only time we see the campus. Waste disposal whispers, rabies, experiments, and students offering to help capture the critters lead to teeth mutations, the need to feed, and rushing to the car once the wings start flapping. Gloves, cages, nets, and chemicals invoke science while the overhead projector and chalkboards create nostalgia. The biology couple, however, doesn't need students tagging along to spy on the local toxic plant, and the story suffers once the husband is reduced in favor of the kids accidentally discovering how the bats react to music. Wouldn't unusual sonar be the first thing scientists test? Though feeling long for ninety minutes, the final fifteen minutes rushes with missing family and luring the bats planning. The close calls are well done, and the entire movie should have had this intensity, but whether toxic waste, corruption, and EPA failures were the mutant cause goes unresolved. This wants to poke fun at horror cliches but is neither humorous nor scary and tries so, so hard to be cool when it doesn't know its audience. Ironically, this yarn is better than it has any business being if you can take it for what it is.

Did you know that the vampire bat's species name is Desmodontinae? I like it. 🦇

Dead Man's Gun Season Two

 

Dead Man's Gun Season 2 Falls Apart

by Kristin Battestella

The twenty-two episode 1998-99 Second Season of the Showtime western anthology Dead Man's Gun puts meek farmer Bruce Davison (X-Men) among the bank robbers and shootouts of “Ties That Bind” before chain gangs, deadly prison conditions, and pleas to the governor. Snake bites, bodily clues, rural chases, and set up escape attempts escalate to violence and corruption before revenge and one on one justice. Multiple people possess our titular evil gun, adding to its deadly mystique as some fall prey to its lure while others can resist its bad luck. A boy's school teacher with a fatal diagnosis can't handle his rowdy classroom in “Sheep's Clothing” until our gun in his hand improves his confidence, command, even his ailments. Perhaps more provocative now, this chilling parable on how a weapon creates obsession and threatens the lives in the classroom shows that a gun in the wrong hands is not empowerment to the innocents it harms. It's so easy to pull the trigger once you start, and this Third Episode should have been the season premiere. Irish Catholics and English Protestants likewise bend God's law as they see fit in “Sisters of Mercy.” Our nuns are both angry at blasphemy and the saloon being open on Sunday – not because it is the Lord's day, but it's when they planned to rob the bank next door. They bide their time helping the poor and broken women, pistol whipping the man who beats a working girl. The humor mixed with intrigue, however, is somewhat hollow despite the religious subject matter, and early in the season Dead Man's Gun has several decent, but not quite perfect episodes. Fortunately series producer Henry Winkler's titular “Hangman” calculates weight, scaffold height, and neck snap speed for a quick and easy death as decreed. It would have been intriguing if Dead Man's Gun had a regular character like this traveling in the gun's wake. Mercy is not his to give when an accused minister professes innocence, and the haunting voices and eerie mirrors standout as deeper introspection than “Sisters of Mercy” because the roulette is played serious sans humor. Our gun interferes in giving and taking life amid fear of the noose, perceived miracles, and those once hung who survived and get away with it. Statements about this gun not being for killing versus “all guns are meant for killing” are again provocative to hear now, and this episode would have made a fine series finale.

“The Judgment Of Joe Dean Bonner” premiere would seem to have it all, including a creepy storekeeper who also runs the hotel named “Final Hour” and becomes the judge presenting the eponymous victims and flashbacks. The judge isn't the devil, but says he knows him well. Despite chilling moments and more supernatural aspects than the rest of the season, this contrived trial plays at both justice for the deceased as well as sympathy for their killer. The man versus the devil comeuppance could have been stronger, and it all comes off too modern. Rather than focusing on the evil aspects, Dead Man's Gun often becomes less about the gun and is more often straight western stories. Vintage boxing photographs and bare knuckle fights in “Winner Takes All” lead to shady promoters, rival showman, and the gun as the prize. The period sports had potential, but the training montages and positive orphan inspirations are so wholesome they're on the wrong show. “The Trapper” tries to tackle respectful Native American revenge, but the stereotypical racist white men are cruel and unnecessary. The shape-shifting justice is great – Dead Man's Gun needed more supernatural horror not less – but the gun temptation was there for the taking and this story is all from the wrong perspective. The tribe or location is never stated, and too many episodes are just generic “The” entries playing it safe and the back end of the season suffers most. The murderous but unaware cobbler in “Sleepwalker” could have been fascinating as point of view horror for a psychosis brought out by the gun, however, the silly saucy, jealousy, and motives end up a total snooze. Rather than use the gun, a woman leaves aces calling cards after her elaborate kills in “Four of a Kind” amid precocious little girls, interchangeable thugs and lawman, meek storekeepers, and laughable derivatives. When you put explosives in somebody's walnuts, don't leave the bottle clearly labeled nitroglycerin out for all to see. The new unpopular female doctor in “The Oath” is also overwrought with modern statements complete with snake oil salesmen, Old West anti-vaxxers, and frustrating Dr. Quinn copycats again on the wrong show. An Italian immigrant heading West in “The Vine” also makes for stereotypical characterizations, cliché accents, and sentimental strings laid on thick as Dead Man's Gun inexplicably turns from sinister to sweet and tender. Hopes? Dreams? Religious chorales and miraculous plants? “Bad Boys” offers more nameless sheriffs and hollow standoffs before a trio of kids uses the gun to do good against nasty dads. I was ready to turn this off in first five minutes but ended up watching on 1.5 speed. Quicksand, haberdashers, and the eponymous study of “The Phrenologist” fall flat amid rival suitors, baddies looking for loot, and some kid who grows up to be Thomas Edison. The fancy fast talking performance is obnoxious and laughable for all the wrong reasons.

Season Two does best mid-season with the long haired and vain Michael York (Romeo and Juliet) as “The Collector.” His unique pieces include the gun and he's seeking a fellow professor of fine taste. The supposed civility and elitism add layers to the bumbling Old West archaeology rivalry as these so-called appreciators of Native American artifacts plunder nonetheless. They shoot buffalo because of their rarity and follow a treasure map to gold, scalps, bullets, and betrayals. Haughty British crook on the lamb Lysette Anthony (Dracula: Dead and Loving It) puts on the fake jolly good and hopes to make a crabby ex-Confederate general her next stool pigeon in “The Mimesers.” Again humor over suspense hurts the sinister household menace– the Southern generic crazy is over the top and the steamy attempts to get the loot would have been better with her alone instead of via a demented husband encouraging his wife. Fortunately, suspicious stock certificates, burying money in the backyard, and the key to the safe around his neck escalate to killer double crosses and for love or money twists. Seeing Michael Dorn (Star Trek) out of his Worf makeup in “The Pinkerton” is only the beginning of this noir styled Dashiell Hammett yarn. The racist, territorial sheriff resents this Pinkerton assigned to a local kidnapping case, but our man has succeeded in all his previous cases and admits a colored man has to be twice as good to get the job. Multifaceted performances and punchlines like “I'm a detective not a magician” accent the ransoms, suspect family, and procedural but in the Old West tone. He's warned to arm himself with our gun, but distrusts it's fine workmanship before ordering coffee at the saloon and talking down angry miners with high brow insults. Friendly barmaids versus femme fatales, motives, and clues are obvious to the wise viewer, but town lynch mobs, bullets, and deduction lead to respect. Our Pinkerton lost his family in a robbery shootout and killed the outlaws responsible, but it didn't bring his family back, and this remains one of Dead Man's Gun's best episodes. It almost feels like a backdoor pilot, and again, having a character like this recur could have given the series another season. In “Seven Deadly Sins,” Daniel Baldwin (Homicide: Life on the Street) is ready to take charge of his late father's bank but is forced to work under his brother. He happily screws customers on collateral, loans, and policy loopholes while drinking gambling, stealing, and blaming shortages on another clerk. He blackmails a farmer's wife for sex and uses our gun to achieve his corrupt goals, indulging in all the gluttonous vices before his fitting comeuppance.

Full moons and wolf howls lead to knives, splatter, and murdered prostitutes in “The Ripper,” which almost feels like a fun Halloween episode in what's supposed to be a horror series. Scotland Yard's Peter Firth (MI-5) is on the trail of Jack the Ripper – an American who has fled home and continued killing. Of course we immediately suspect a culprit, but the killing for satisfaction psychology makes for an entertaining what if before newspaper clippings, telegram evidence, working girl dalliances, and winking twists. A feisty writer coming West wants to write the life story of amoral gunslinger Billy Campbell (The 4400) for “The Regulator“ but his exploits aren't exactly legal and their tête-à-tête is tame today. It's disturbing, however, when he talks about the allure of our gun, what it takes to pull the trigger, and how to cull the herd. Any man will use a weapon if given the chance – it's a fairy tale to think otherwise – and it's eerie to see the tables turn on our likable scoundrel who says the terrible things we do now. Kate Jackson (Dark Shadows) directs the sermons, raunchy rides, and husbands chasing after wandering swindler Patrick Duffy (Dallas) in “The Womanizer.” He knows how to play the guitar as well as women, and the tone is sincere or humorous and cavalier depending on his honesty or triumph – save for an incriminating birthmark, that is. Again, the avenging church assassin in pursuit of his gun would have been a neat repeat character, and eventually the ultimate punishment catches our Lothario: marriage. Chez Emil Haute Cuisine also brings class to the West in “The Good Chef” even if the crowd can't pronounce the French names. The home cooking restaurant next door can't compete with the connoisseur who insists food is to dine not merely ingest, and any uncouth customers asking for ketchup, poor table manners, and quitting staff meet our gun. Although the tasty subject been done better on Tales from the Crypt and the temperamental chef feels too silly and modern, this is one of the better latter episodes culminating in the expected secret recipes. Sadly, the hasty series finale “A Just Reward” is a clip show cop out reusing weak moments from Season One and inexplicably the terrible “Bad Boys” from Year Two. This supposedly ominous Mr. Smith looks like a modern man in a black suit amid padding horseback chases, plodding camera panoramas, and mystical double talk suddenly concerned with the gun's effect on all who touch it when most of this lighthearted season the gun had no mind of its own. Mr. Smith says he's the gun's original owner before a laughable grim reaper transformation. It's camp and hokey like a bad Halloween costume, and the devilish judge from the faulty premiere would have been a better bookend to the series.

Thankfully, the outdoor photography is bright and barren or dusty and muddy as needed. Some interiors are slightly plain or dark, but the period clutter does a lot with little – oil lamps, nib pens, pocket watches, wallpaper, and wash basins. Vintage medical equipment or school house ephemera vary per episode as does the saloon piano and shadow schemes. Up close photography clearly cuts corners, but old fashioned gauze on the lens creates eerie overlays in camera as needed. Holsters, horses, and stagecoaches provide action while hats, spectacles, leather, and dusters provide a somewhat eighties meets 1880s style. Though fitting, the stock western facades on Dead Man's Gun all look the same. The town's not meant to be the same locale – it would be better if it were – but the set savings are clear despite careful shooting of specific buildings per episode. Slow motion shots feel dated and production quality varies from hour to hour. Bonnets, corsets and combinations look the part, but the women's dresses are costume modern and the ladies' hair is often terribly straggly – as if Old West look simply means unwashed. Elder actors make for better rustic than the out of place too nineties younger guests, but the repeating familiar faces become as noticeable as the bad generic, incorrect Southern accents. Unlike Year One with creators Howard and Ed Spielman writing, over half the episodes here have more than two credited writers, often as many as four. Combined with numerous directors, it's easy to see where Dead Man's Gun lost its cohesion, and the dragging forty-four minute episodes should have been a taut half hour instead. Dead Man's Gun DVDs are now also elusive and streaming options come and go, but the series works best as aired when you catch a one off weird western. Today this kind of show would be so violent it wouldn't be entertaining, yet dated filler episodes disappointingly stray from the paranormal gun aspects. Despite provocative stories, name stars, and intriguing characterizations, it's not surprising Dead Man's Gun was canceled once it forgoes its own chilling weapon and devilish premise, leaving the series as an awkward transition between the wholesome western television standard and today's serious bleak. Fortunately, skipping a clunker when marathoning Dead Man's Gun now solves any problems.

New Happenings at InSession Film!

 

If you've been reading our classic film reviews and actor countdowns moonlighting at InSession Film, you may have heard about the new Women InSession film podcast including Yours Truly alongside my fellow female film critics at InSession! 🙋‍♀️

You can listen to the First Three Episodes of Women InSession wherever you hear your favorite podcasts. This opening trilogy is a bit of a Classic Film dive:

Women InSession Episode 1: Our Top 3 Classics with @Zita Short

Women InSession Episode 2: George Stevens and A Place in the Sun with @ZitaShort and @Amy Thomasson

Women InSession Episode 3: Westerns from a Feminine Perspective with @ZitaShort

We have a fun, new announcement! Beginning this week we have a new podcast to add to the InSession Film family, led by @thereforereview @Zita_Short @filmswithamy @athomasson11 @ShadanLarki and @eRockReviews! pic.twitter.com/w8JzcdDObG

— InSession Film (@InSessionFilm) July 20, 2022

Look for our next Women InSession podcast episodes chatting about everything from Titanic and Kate Winslet to Alfred Hitchcock! Don't forget to read some of our Classic Film essays, too:

An Ingrid Bergman Potluck

A Fun Jane Seymour Trio

Larger than Life Elizabeth Taylor and Richard Burton Pictures

Stay up to date on the latest from us at InSession Film on Twitter! 🎬