Showing posts with label Chuck Russell. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Chuck Russell. Show all posts

Wednesday, 5 April 2023

Eraser



For some inexplicable reason, director Chuck Russell's Eraser is unusually interested in presenting Arnold Schwarzenegger in ways that are incongruous to the star's, by now long-established, screen image. Unfortunately this disharmony has nothing to do with the kind of character or emotional wavelength Schwarzenegger is being expected to play. John Kruger is not a stretch for the actor, the character an only lightly evolved version of the cyborg bodyguard seen in Terminator 2: Judgment Day. Rather than stand between James Cameron's futuristic Christ and incoming bullets, this T-800 has been assigned (programmed?) to protect Vanessa Williams' Lee Cullen, a senior executive at a weapons manufacturer who has snooped too deeply into her company's extra-legal affairs and caught the attention of a government hit squad. Russell has woven a different kind of friction into Eraser then, one specifically to do with the outrageous physical feats being mapped onto Arnold's forty nine year old body. 

The film's opening action sequence sees Schwarzenegger entering a blown FBI safehouse to rescue a former charge from an army of prowling mobsters. In the melee, a masked Kruger delivers an unusually high roundhouse kick to the shoulder of a snacking assassin before using a refrigerator door to twist the stunned man's skull away from his neck. Spine snapping may be standard for this era of tape cinema but the spin-kick that stuns the heavy comes off as lightly comical, especially given that this too-athletic turning strike follows a gormless close-up of Schwarzenegger's face bursting out of a black balaclava. Doubling isn't anything new for an action star like Schwarzenegger - True Lies from the previous year is riddled with physically smaller men hurtling around in cranium expanding wigs - but Russell's application is the first time where it begins to feel deliberately farcical, as if the director is sending up the limping machismo of his ageing hero. 

A later sequence in which Kruger pirouettes off a docking crane then drops thirty feet onto a group of gangsters isn't just laughable though, it's risible. The feat completely at odds with a persona built around unusually cunning musculature. With Schwarzenegger seemingly being boxed off to the knacker's yard, it falls to James Caan as treacherous US Marshal Robert DeGuerin to generate the film's stranger, but much more memorable, situations. A hostage rescue sequence in which DeGuerin shows his true colours - while Schwarzenegger is busy using an enormous knife to pin creeping stunt players to hardwood doors - has a surprising level of cruelty to it. After executing a bewildered (and obviously conspiratorial) kidnapper, DeGuerin embraces the heavy's sobbing captive. While soothing the shattered woman with baby talk, his hand inches towards the pistol held by the man DeGuerin has just shot. The Marshal seizes the death-gripped side arm then thrusts it up into the lady's chest, blasting a hole through her. 

While the hostage chokes and drowns on her own blood, DeGuerin begins miming his way through a CPR routine; pinching the dying woman's nose, to obstruct her dying gasps, while blowing uselessly on her cheek. His eyes dart to the nearest doorframe, willing it to be filled by some clueless rookie who can then go on to corroborate his version of events. The impressive thing about this sequence, in an otherwise rote action extravaganza, is that Caan is unafraid to be seen as truly vile in these moments. His demeanour is scurrying and venal as he powers through a charade that is both opportunistic and breathtakingly callous. The gurgling hostage is treated as a prop in DeGuerin's collapsing fiction. She is physically manipulated, in her death throes, by a man who has killed her for his own immediate (but hardly far-reaching) benefit. Caan doesn't shy away from the rape subtext in this scene either - the actor doesn't attempt to play this sequence in ways that are clinical or expert, he slobbers all over his victim, twisting and turning her in ways so obviously objectionable that the British film censor hacked the sequence to pieces for the film's UK release. 

Wednesday, 31 October 2018

A Nightmare on Elm Street 3: Dream Warriors



Continuing a series trend for sympathetic depictions of its teenage victims, A Nightmare on Elm Street 3: Dream Warriors takes place in a psychiatric unit for troubled children. Chuck Russell's film, working from a screenplay credited to Russell, Bruce Wagner, Frank Darabont and franchise creator Wes Craven, doesn't attempt to damn these adolescents for the damage they've experienced or visited upon themselves. In that sense Dream Warriors stands apart from the usually prudish morality of a genre that often attempts to massage large-scale evisceration with unlikable, even bullying personalities.

Heather Langenkamp returns as A Nightmare on Elm Street survivor Nancy Thompson, sporting a traumatic shock of white in her hair and working as a therapist for the young patients. Nancy rallies the besieged kids, using Patricia Arquette's Kristen as a psychic anchor in their fight back against vile old Fred Krueger. Not only is Dream Warriors unwilling to condemn its mixed-up cast, it also allows them to push back against the sins of their parents, using weapons derived from the moral panics of suburban America. Disabled hobbyist Will uses his Dungeons & Dragons knowledge to attack Freddy with arcs of Elfen magic while former drug addict Taryn dreams herself as a punked-out street tough, able to fight and navigate the kind of alleyways in which she previously felt addled and helpless.

Monday, 27 October 2014

The Blob (1988)
















Chuck Russell and Frank Darabont hijack Irvin Yeaworth's red scare original, amping up the individualism and transforming it into a strange, outsider movie. As well as having a more politically dubious, terrestrial origin, The Blob systematically kills all the usual male leads until we arrive at the second-banana motorcycle enthusiast and a would-be distressed damsel. The film initially seems to be orbiting a young guy-next-door. Paul Taylor is set up as a Michael J Fox figure, he succeeds by accident in sports and has a friend that gets him into trouble with his prospective girlfriend's father.

Paul appears to be the engine, he has romantic potential and homespun guts. Unfortunately for him The Blob doesn't give a shit about the hero's journey. Next up there's the local Sheriff, initially an antagonistic presence who redeems himself by following logic rather than prejudice. He's killed as an afterthought, his half-digested body showing up as a soupy detail in his love interest's death. The government forces that turn up half-way through end up being completely compromised, leaving local pariah Brian Flagg and cheerleader Meg to take care of business.

Meg and Brian form a back-and-forth, post-Aliens action collective. A couple united through a desire to not be told what to do. While the rest of the town is being rounded up by Hazmat infantrymen - possibly for liquidation - Meg is breaking curfew to find her missing brother. Brian plays rebel by investigating the crash site and turning up a conspiracy. Aside from that, the duo spend the last act rescuing each other. Brian crashes a snow machine into the Blob and ends up rolled and trapped, Meg loots an M16 and lays down suppressing fire.