You can’t say that Spielberg doesn’t know how to make an arresting intro to his films. In contrast to its predecessor, Temple of Doom opens big with a logistically impossible but rousing song-and-dance number of “Anything Goes” at a Shanghai nightclub in 1935 (we’re entering prequel territory). Here Spielberg introduces our leading lady, Willie Scott (Kate Capshaw). The scene is followed by a smooth, stair-descending entrance of Indiana Jones (Harrison Ford), dressed like he stepped out of a James Bond film. Given the origin of George Lucas’s character, it makes sense; he is an American-bred Bond who relies more on intelligence than luck. Soon, a double-cross situation with gangsters unfolds, followed by an escape through the window with Willie in tow and a meeting with Short Round (Ke Huy Quan), the second sidekick who, unlike many films featuring young performers, doesn’t irritate the older audience members. They’re soon on a flight to India, where the rest of the adventure takes place—perhaps destiny brings them to a downtrodden village to the titular temple of doom, and from there, the ride on the reel rarely slows down.

This plot sounds like exciting material for a new adventure for a beloved character, so what are the complaints and issues that have been lobbied at the film? Let’s first look at the “Willie Scott problem.” We know that Willie Scott is no Marion Ravenwood; however, why should she be? Yes, Willie is shrill, lacks toughness and adaptability, and is often plain annoying. That’s what a pampered nightclub singer would be like, dropped into the remote regions of colonial India. Yes, Spielberg did exaggerate her character traits during certain sequences. However, how would we act if we saw strange dining, insect infestation, and ritual sacrifice carried out by supernatural means? Somehow, I don’t believe that most of the audience would have the calmer demeanor of Jones and Short Round.

This brings us to the next often-raised criticism of the film: the depiction of Indian culture. First, this film is a spiritual sequel to the Cary Grant-helmed Gunga Din of 1939. Just as the villainous Thuggees (the etymology of the commonly used “thug”) of that film don’t represent all Indians, neither do the Thuggees and the evil leadership of the superb villain, Mola Ram (Amrish Puri), represent anthropological studies either. Critics will often protest the banquet scene, mentioning that most Indians have a vegetarian diet, but then they will fail to reason why it’s there as an introduction to the palace’s atmosphere. It’s not there to portray the average Indian as bizarre diners, but it’s to show the audience that something off and nefarious is going down at Pankot Palace, though the influence is then unknown. Let’s not forget that this picture is a throwback to the adventure films of the 1930s. Those films were of a different period, often quickly plotted, and didn’t allow much room for nuance. We’re not watching a documentary with Temple of Doom. Furthermore, the more serious-minded Gandhi came out two years before and won multiple Academy Awards, but you can easily guess which film is being discussed decades later.

What issue is with Temple of Doom? I believe that Spielberg felt that the film was too thematically dark during the production process and not after the release. This is why I believe there are too many humorous elements that are incongruous with the sinister atmosphere and deeds of the villains. While Raiders has incidental comedy, tinged with irony, it feels that Spielberg put in superfluous gags to lighten the mood, and most of these deliberately call back to Raiders. Thus, while Mola Ram is intimidating and perhaps the singular memorable villain of the series, his lackeys often seem to be just fodder for the sequential shenanigans. When Mola Ram is not on screen, opposite Jones, I never feel that our hero is truly in danger. Somehow, Spielberg has turned the menacing, cult-like presence of the Thuggee followers of Gunga Din into a weaker performance, resembling Three Stooges antics. Maybe he was adding another 1930s genre to the earlier mix of adventure, screwball comedy, and musical.

Harrison Ford’s acting is impeccable, even when confronted with silly antagonists. Because he’s accompanied by two companions with differing personalities and he’s brought to his lowest point in the series, he must display a range of emotions through body language and facial expression. Although Ford appears more comfortable portraying a stoic disposition, a sly grin, or righteous indignation in his roles, he is capable of going beyond these expressions to take Indy on this character-changing journey. Compare the scenes of the spike pit booby trap, when he realizes the dire situation of the enslaved children, and when he comes under the influence of the “blood of Kali”—it’s no wonder Ford was later praised for his roles in less fantastic fare, such as Witness and The Mosquito Coast.

Finally, John Williams’s score contributes much to propel the characters through the film’s various set pieces. The memorable scenes of the inflatable raft escape, journey to the temple by elephant, Mola Ram’s Kali ritual, mine cart chase, and the climatic rope bridge confrontation would still be lessened without the music. The “Raiders March” will always be the most identifiable Indiana Jones theme, but pieces like “Short Round’s Theme” and “Slave Children’s Parade” bring a new sense of grandeur and wonder to the adventure.

I remember when Temple of Doom was verboten by my parents. There was a time when I was at Montgomery Ward, and one of the electronics displays showed the film’s ending, followed by the credits rolling a few minutes later. I ran to my parents, excitedly telling them that I had just seen part of the film. Soon after, I watched the film in its entirety at a friend’s house. The mystery and ambivalence around this entry still exist in the world, but time has diminished those sentiments. Spielberg may no longer appreciate the film, but the viewer must acknowledge it when a creator goes in a new direction with a popular property, especially when contemporary family films have become numbingly safe.

The film begins with a common trope of 80s teen dramas: the move to a new city. Daniel LaRusso (Ralph Macchio) and his mother, Lucille, are westbound from New Jersey to the “dream destination” of Los Angeles. Dream destination for Lucille because she has a hot new career; more of a nightmare for Daniel as he’s leaving the familiar Italian American East Coast culture for a world of blonds, beaches, and bullying. (It may be surprising to youths today, but there was a time when California was imagined as a new world, almost separate from the rest of the U.S., instead of an off-putting land that people are escaping from to return to their roots.). By drawing the attention of dream girl Ali (Elizabeth Shue) at the beach, he invites the wrath of her ex-boyfriend Johnny (William Zabka) and his gang of fellow karate students, who are trained by the no-chill Cobra Kai dojo owner Kreese (Martin Kove). Daniel knows some karate, but not enough to make a difference. Fortunately, after multiple instances of violence against him, a friendly maintenance worker, Mr. Nariyoshi Miyagi (Pat Morita), who has gotten to know Daniel and his mother, intervenes, and thus starts a journey where not only does Daniel develop his skills to defend himself, but he grows in qualities that are important even if he loses interest in karate.

What makes this film interesting is less because of the action and more because of the characters’ personalities and relationships between the characters. The director John G. Avildsen doesn’t direct sports films. You may be saying to yourself, “Hey, didn’t he direct Rocky?” Yes, he did, but Rocky is not a sports film. Yes, the MacGuffin is Rocky’s boxing career and his shot at the Heavyweight title, but the meat of that film is Rocky’s relationship with Adrian, Paulie, Mickey, and himself. We even find out more about Rocky and Apollo outside of the ring during their pre-fight interactions than we do when they’re pummeling each other through the rounds. Similarly, while the fight sequences are competent (I prefer the two action sequences where Daniel is targeted by the bullies to the end tournament; there’s only so much you can do to make points-based, contact-limited martial arts tournaments exciting), the heart is in the dramatic scenes. We see Daniel as a sure, street-smart kid on first arrival to California, but it’s hard to forget his humiliated look following his first takedown by Johnny, when he’s been abandoned by his new friends and is left to be diminished, as he sees it, in the eyes of Ali. Another emotional scene involves Daniel’s trashing of his bike after another beatdown: it’s short, but it conveys all that Daniel hates concerning his situation—he’s a stranger in a strange and privileged land, and there seems to be nothing that he can do about it.

Ralph Macchio is not the only one that gets to give a good performance. In fact, one might say that Pat Morita as Mr. Miyagi often steals the spotlight. Being a film featuring martial arts, Mr. Miyagi could’ve been portrayed as an unworldly, mystic master, especially since such archetypes were predominant up to that point. However, while Mr. Miyagi is wise, he’s also human. His relationship with Daniel is often more like that of a father and son than sensei and student. It’s not through specific karate skills that he teaches Daniel self-discipline but through household chores. Only later does Daniel see how such mundane activities contribute to his martial arts training. Obviously, the centerpiece scene is Mr. Miyagi’s drunken breakdown due to his reflection on a tragic (personally and nationally) event from decades before. A son would usually not want to see his father in such a state, and a father, especially one known for self-discipline, would not want to put on such a display. However, Daniel and Mr. Miyagi have both opened up to each other at this point. Mr. Miyagi is no longer just the firm teacher or provider of quips but is a person of vulnerability just like Daniel.

Even the antagonists have depth that a lesser movie might skip in exploring. Yes, the Cobra Kai are relentless in the tormenting of Daniel. However, we come to see that this aggression is fomented by the teaching of Kreese. (Daniel also doesn’t help himself by his cocky attitude at times). Why might Kreese have been so angry? Did his military experience in Vietnam inform him? (I haven’t watched Cobra Kai, but apparently, it goes more into detail about his past, and my speculation is confirmed). We see levels of compassion in Johnny’s fellow Cobra Kai when Johnny escalates matters, and by the end, he no longer has complete faith in Kreese’s teachings.

No film is perfect, even “perfect films.” I did find it convenient that every activity that Daniel was interested in, Johnny and the Cobra Kai were involved in. Daniel meets up with them during soccer tryouts; he’s already had some karate training while they’re all members of Kreese’s dojo; he rides a regular bike while they roar through the scenes on motorbikes; and Johnny just broke up with Ali, and she is ready to be on the rebound with Daniel at first sight. It’s understandable that there need to be scenes for conflict, but it makes Daniel seem more than fated to walk into trouble no matter where he goes in Reseda. Speaking of Ali, Shue gave a decent performance with the material given. However, there’s not much there. It’s hard to see what she sees in Daniel at first besides his being the opposite of Johnny in almost every way. People were surprised when she didn’t return for the sequel. Given the nature of high school relationships and the love-at-first-sight attraction between the two, I was not.

I’ve not said much about the music and don’t have much to say except that it’s adequate for the film’s aspirational nature; the pan flutes are a nice touch and don’t overwhelm the atmosphere, unlike a lot of Asian-themed movies. Most people remember Joe Esposito’s “You’re the Best,” but I believe that Bananarama’s “Cruel Summer” best epitomized the L.A. culture. Too bad it wasn’t included on the soundtrack album.

Today, moviegoers can watch all types of martial arts styling. It’s often included in typical action and comic book movie fare. What you don’t get is a story where karate is not an end, but a means for self-development. There are a lot more exciting tournament movies that you can watch. Here, the tournament is the dessert, the logical conclusion of a journey that begins when Daniel arrives unwillingly in Reseda. The meat and potatoes is the growth of Daniel under the paternal guidance of unassuming Mr. Miyagi, and this is still relatable years later.

After the ransacking of the settlement, we turn our attention to young Megan (Sydney Penny). One can tell that this story is going to be a spiritual journey. We listen to her prayer, a recitation of Psalm 23 with her current heartfelt concerns interspersed. A visual representation of God answering her prayers, the man only known as Preacher (Clint Eastwood) comes down from the mountain like Moses. Just like the prophet of old, we have an inkling that he’s here to execute the moral law upon the wicked.

Normally, child actors can be a miss, especially when put up against seasoned adult actors. However, the precocious Megan proves to be the standout of the film. She expresses a resolute fierceness against the LaHood gang pushing her around, but also exudes a humble spirituality as shown by her opening prayer and her later continuing faith in Preacher.

There’s a later scene between her and Preacher that could prove to be awkward to the audience. Her admiration for the courage of Preacher grows into infatuation, and Megan seeks to entice the interest of him. As the moral center of the film, Preacher turns her down. Because of her youth, her strong emotional attachment, and the mistaken reading of interactions, she takes his rejection to mean something else. Her mood swings quickly from one of attraction to that of jilted hatred. If not handled properly, this scene could come off as disingenuous and awkward. However, Penny portrays Megan the way a teenager would act in the moment. Beneath the surface you can tell there’s no true hatred. There’s just a confused response due to her not getting what she wants in the moment.

Megan’s mother Sarah (Carrie Snodgrass) puts in a fine performance as the worn-down frontierswoman. However, the other actor that gives the film heart is that of Michael Moriarty, portraying the meek, but stubborn Hull Barret. He’s probably today most recognized as the protagonist of low-budget fare such as Q and The Stuff from Larry Cohen. In these films he plays extroverted eccentrics. Hull is mild-mannered and contemplative in contrast. This does not mean that he lacks courage. Earlier in the film, against LaHood’s commands, he enters the neighboring town for supplies to repair the ransacked settlement. Before he leaves, LaHood’s men assault him. Still, he requires the muscle that Preacher can provide to fight back.

Preacher, however, provides more than physical strength. He gives the community faith. Faith in a better tomorrow. Even LaHood recognizes this as more of an obstacle to his operations than just individual opposition. “A man without spirit is whipped. But a preacher, he could give them faith. Once ounce of faith, they’ll be dug in deeper than tick on a hound.”

A beautiful example of the positive influence that Preacher has on the settlers is concerning a situation with a massive ore boulder. Though Hull believes there’s gold hidden within, the task of chipping away at it seems too much. It’s Preacher’s initiative of striking away at the ore that prompts Hull to join in. As Preacher stands up to threats from LaHood’s son and an imposing hired henchmen, the rest of the community realizes that they don’t need to be afraid anymore if they stick together. They then assist to hammer away on the ore, revealing what Hull believed was within originally.

It’s interesting to note that though the villains of the film are hateworthy, they’re not portrayed as cartoonish. It would’ve been too easy, especially coming from a Spaghetti Western background, for Eastwood to portray the antagonists as bloodthirsty maniacs, without concern for law or the mores of the day. However, LaHood tries to work his schemes through the protections of the law. He’s careful not to kill the settlers; in the opening scene, the only casualties are livestock and Megan’s pet dog. He’s even willing to buy them off their land, paying a high price for each head. Finally, he utilizes the services of a Marshal named Stockburn and his deputies.

However, Eastwood wants you to realize that though these actions may be legally right, they fail to measure to the standards of higher, moral law. It thus seems fitting that Preacher faces down Stockburn, LaHood, and their men. He’s either a divine revenant or the personification of Death coming to claim those that God has judged.

“Come and See!” These are some of the words from Revelation 6:7,8 pointing out the fourth horsemen of the Apocalypse. These verses are also the basis for the film title. Eastwood wanted to show audiences that the Western was not dead. It could still tell innovative stories. Though the film features elements from both classic and Italian Westerns, it also points forward to the revisionist Westerns that would be popularized in the 90s, including his classic Unforgiven.

The moody theme that lingers while Preacher is on screen. The early winter setting, which gives off the chill of the grave. The emotional highs and lows vividly depicted by even the minor characters. These aspects, among others, make Pale Rider to be Eastwood’s defining movie of the 80s. It gathers past elements of both acted and directed Clint Eastwood films into one narrative. However, it also shows the promise that he had much more to say, whatever the genre.

With a shocking heist and car chase, the film blasts the viewer into the action. This doesn’t let up for the first ten minutes. At first, one may think that Jack Sholder’s The Hidden is just another 80s action flick. But after the cool down from the initial scene, one realizes one has also entered the realm of sci-fi horror.

After helming the slashers Alone in the Dark and A Nightmare on Elm Street 2: Freddy’s Revenge, director Jack Sholder shifted genres. Combining buddy cop action, dry humor, and an intergalactic twist, he gave New Line Cinema a modest box office success that most critics at the time received favorably. What makes The Hidden stand out from the other alien body-horror thrillers of the time is the script’s reflection on what humanity is and should be. It contrasts hedonism with the desire for connection with others, particularly through family.

Sholder could not properly handle the theme without the effort of the actors. After the exciting opening on the Los Angeles streets, we see the realistic camaraderie at LAPD headquarters. With the banter back and forth, one can tell that the officers truly care for each other. The atmosphere may seem stereotypical in the context of a wake of other police procedurals. We start with the sarcastic hysterics of the lieutenant as he deals with the FBI involvement. Yet, Sholder employs humor, which he sprinkles throughout the film, that is not over-the-top unlike the action. This keeps the officers dealing with the mysterious body-hopping threat looking competent rather than buffoonish.

The best interactions are between the two main investigators, Det. Thomas Beck (Michael Nouri) and FBI Special Agent Lloyd Gallagher (Kyle MacLachlan). Nouri portrays a tough officer who wants to do what it takes to stop the ongoing mayhem but hates being out of the loop. Still, despite his somewhat gruff demeanor, the film eventually reveals a tender love for his wife and daughter. MacLachlan is the individual standout performer. He must play Gallagher with a mysterious, alien air who seemingly has dropped out of nowhere into the investigation. Gallagher shows a naïve honesty that is still hiding that he knows more than he’s letting on. This leads to funny snippets of dialogue as police partners.

It also leads to touching scenes such as when Beck invites Gallagher to his home for dinner. We see a sweet awkwardness as he takes sense of his surroundings and tries to engage with the Becks. We also note there must be a tragic backstory for Gallagher as he observes their daughter. It’s no wonder that David Lynch would later select him to portray Dale Cooper in Twin Peaks.

Although the spotlight is on Beck and Gallagher, the pursuit itself would fall flat without a memorable antagonist. This could go quickly awry as the antagonist is an alien parasite controlling human hosts. The actors portraying the human hosts thus must be both individualized but also display a similar nonchalant attitude to the host body and others. They also need to exhibit a wonder at some of the more materialistic and tawdry aspects of humanity. All the possessed characters manifest this to degrees of success. However, the standouts are Jonathan Miller (William Boyett) and Brenda Lee Van Buren (Claudia Christian). Miller steals the show as an unhealthy middle-aged man pursuing whatever he sees. It’s like the id run rampant. Brenda stuns as an exotic dancer turned Terminator-like being. She engages the duo in both another thrilling car chase and following shoot-out.

This brings us to what most will likely view as the crowd-drawing aspect of the feature: the action. As mentioned before, the film immediately starts with a shocking heist and chase. Sholder decides to go from grainy bank security cam footage to a short transition to bright, sunny L.A. streets. He follows this with stunning shots of the fleeing Ferrari as it recklessly terrorizes the city streets. Throughout the film, there is further interesting focus on vehicles, including Gallagher’s equally eye-catching Porsche. This, combined with the ambulatory mayhem the alien forces its hosts to commit, leaves the audience little time to relax.

However, the quiet moments do allow for the audience to catch their breath. It’s during these moments that I believe that Sholder wants to contemplate the underlying theme. That theme is revolves around what it means to lead a fulfilling life as a human. The antagonistic alien parasite shows what happens when selfishness takes control. It not only destroys others, but it damages the host beyond repair. Gallagher, however, shows concerns for Beck and his family though they are new acquaintances. The thought is to choose to see what is more important: human connection or the pursuit of heedless desires.

The only gripe that I have is with parts of the score. There are stretches of beauty, particularly during the interaction of Gallagher with Beck’s family. However, the synth work often feels tinny. This is not a solitary problem with this film. From the late 80s to the early 90s, a lot of synth scores sound hollow compared to earlier in the 80s. Perhaps, it’s due to the shift from analog to digital. However, it can be distracting. Fortunately, the “alien” nature of the plot occasionally complements the dissonance. It would just be better if the keys had a richer tone. The soundtrack, on the other hand, plainly rocks. Special props to The Truth and the title track “Hidden.”

New Line Cinema was fortunate to have The Hidden in its roster of films. Being “the house that Freddy built,” there’s little that holds up outside of cult status during the studio’s early years. There’s the Nightmare and Critters series, and even those had some duds. With its thrilling set-pieces, atmospheric L.A. location, and interesting character interaction, this thematic but not pretentious genre-mesh deserves greater visibility.

Cronenberg drops us into the seamy world of television broadcasting which Channel 83 executive Max Renn (James Woods) navigates as he receives a morning brief via video. We instantly see he lives an untidy life, but he’s still committed to looking for the next shocking thing to host on his channel. He’s tired of the soft but still scandalous fare that is scouted for programming. He doesn’t know how much his life, or at least his mind, will change when he’s introduced to Videodrome. This possibly pirate broadcast features material beyond the tasteless, verging to the illegal. However, Max soon learns that once viewed, you become part of Videodrome and Videodrome becomes part of you, perhaps to fatal consequence.

While critics praised the film, the material was likely too weird and extreme for general audiences. Budgeted just under six million dollars, the film failed to recoup its expenses. Still, the resonant themes combined with the compelling acting of the leads and the imaginative visual effects has turned Videodrome into a true cult classic. Often, people assign that identifier to any movie that gets an updated media release. How can a film that focuses on the dead media of VHS say anything to a world of multiple streaming options?

Max Renn is an unsavory character, but Cronenberg doesn’t present him as fully unlikeable. Supposedly he has no limits, but even he’s taken aback by the actions of the mysterious Nicki Brand (Debbie Harry), even as he’s further drawn into seductive visuals of Videodrome. Nicki, introduced to Max on a hosted debate/discussion, reveals herself to be a woman of contradictory layers. Seemingly, she’s the voice of reflection concerning whether society has become overstimulated by the media landscape, but she reveals herself to be a woman of masochistic impulses.

As the attraction of Videodrome draws her in, Max becomes the voice of hesitation. However, it’s too late, as Max learns that Videodrome is more than entertainment, Nicki is both more and less than she seems, and there are greater ideological forces wanting use Videodrome to transform society. Max Renn, as an audience surrogate, is confident in knowing who he is at the start but uncertain of what’s physically tangible and mentally possible by the conclusion.

What most would remember about Videodrome are the odd and often disturbing visual effects. In one bizarre scene, a cold inanimate television set becomes a stirring fleshy object, inviting intimacy with Max. Is it alive, or is it part of Max’s increasingly off sense of reality? Even Max himself becomes an object of mutation as orifices appear without prompting and technology merges with his body. Media prophet Dr. O’Blivion speaks of “The New Flesh.” Max, whether he wants to or not, becomes the latest subject of media/technology/body evolution. At the end you may not understand fully what you’ve seen. The images, being both realistic in composition and fantastic in their presentation, will leave an impression.

Composer Howard Shore’s stylistic choice of music is interesting. He’s known for writing bombastic scores whether working with Cronenberg or with other directors. This time he decided for a more minimalistic approach. Though still utilizing traditional instrumentation, he has overlayed it with synthesizer tones. Rather than dramatic highs and lows, there’s a pulsating droning that occasionally falls away for a plangent flourish of strings. The music serves the film, and there’s nothing incorrect about the placement in the scenes. However, the synthesized orchestra may disconcert the listener. Possibly that was Cronenberg’s and Shore’s intention, but it also likely means for most people that this score won’t be on listening cycle outside the film, unlike other science fiction films and horror films of the 1980s.

Finally, the story development leads to two conclusions that may seem contradictory. First, one can appreciate the various themes that Cronenberg throws to the audience. What are the effects of media on humanity, especially involving extreme content; can one lose touch on reality as one delves further into video world; will increasing immersion in technology mutate us into something beyond what we know is the normal expedience?

However, the second conclusion is tangent to the first. There may have been a surfeit of themes to develop within the film’s running time to the viewer’s satisfaction. By the end, all gives way to Max becoming “The New Flesh” through a series of action sequences. We’re not even sure if he has agency in doing so. Cronenberg’s intentions for Max’s outcome may have influenced his plotting. That still might not be enough for the viewer who feels there’s an unbalanced ratio of questions to answers.

Now that we’ve been in the internet age for decades, Videodrome has the ostensible appearance of quaintness. For many, however, the digital world increasingly has taken the place of reality. This film invites us to reflect on who or what controls what or who as technology, especially as a means of entertainment, becomes ever more intertwined with humanity. Cronenberg presents ideas that he might not fully flesh out. Still, having something to mull over is better than just relying on visual effects to capture your audience’s attention.

We begin mid-conversation between scientist Seth Brundel (Jeff Goldblum) and reporter Veronica Quaife (Geena Davis) at an expo for researchers and inventors. Seth nonchalantly mentions that unlike the others, his invention will transform the world. Though she should exercise caution, Veronica is intrigued and brings back the mysterious and awkward Seth back to his place. Her doubts are soon shorn when he demonstrates his teleportation pods are not a gimmick. It’s a reality, that if publicized, would change the transportation world.

The only hiccup is that device cannot process “the flesh,” metaphorically and literally. Living material is not able to teleport successively. After Veronica helps him understand the flesh through connection, he’s able to solve the conundrum. Soon after though, this connection to another human leads to the sticky business of emotions that Seth has shut off for years. With a flare-up of anger and jealousy, he commits an error of judgement. The results are a genetic abomination and a tragedy for both.

Cronenberg’s most commercially and critically acclaimed film was surprise hit for 1986. Previous science-fiction horror remakes such as John Carpenter’s The Thing had lackluster response from both the audience and critics at the time. One would likely have predicted that the grisly fly transformation effects and dour ending would’ve dampened the box office. Instead, people praised the make-up. They also seemed to relate to the story of losing a loved one to a terminal disease, even with it wrapped in a fantastical package. The world seems to have changed much from 1982.

The relationship between Seth and Veronica is a draw for audiences, especially for those more inclined to dismiss the horror and science fiction genres as juvenile, or even worse, as junk. We don’t know what to feel when we first come across Seth. He’s not conventionally attractive per Hollywood standards, though there’s a spark of charm. He’s boastful, but his awkward nature somehow prevents this from tipping into an ugly arrogance. His behavior with Veronica when she first comes to his place would normally come across as creepy. However, he doesn’t attempt to make a first move romantically. He’s so unaware that he forgets that she came along as a journalist. He just wants to confide something important with another. His interaction with Veronica shows that he’s lived an isolated life, either by choice or social neglect.

It helps that the film sets up a scuzzy antagonist, Stathis (John Getz). This former boyfriend of Veronica and somewhat stereotypical corporate type provides the ick factor to keep us on Seth’s side. (It’s a fact in 80s movies that if you’re a professional with a beard, you’re distrustful). Though even he has a side that may prove to be a surprise to the audience, being part of the resolution to the escalating tragedy of Seth’s transformation.

Besides Cronenberg’s direction, Howard Shore’s score elevates the material beyond semi-remembered b-movie schlock. Shore pulls away from the synth soundscapes of the previous Cronenberg film Videodrome. He decides to flood the audience with an operatic-instrumental orchestration from the titles onward. Depending on the scene, the music whips our emotions from wonder of discovery to tension of frayed love to despair of biological terminus. Even though the sudden start and sharp end of the film could make the story seem like a slice-of-life narrative, the music transforms it into a 20th century tragedy. Just as in Classical Greek tragedy, where fate and the gods punish characters for their hubris, Seth is led down a similar path. It’s no wonder that the director later adapted the film into an opera.

There’s not much more that one can say about the make-up effects than already said. They are grotesque and especially in the final stage, out-of-this-world. However, Cronenberg never neglects the human element. What does that mean? We will likely never come across a man genetically spliced to a fly. However, it’s almost definite that we’ll see a friend or family member decay either due to disease or old age. It may not be as alien and dramatic a transformation as we see with Seth, but it’s a transformation from what we once knew, nonetheless.

At every stage of his change into the creature, we still see the once briefly happy and awkward man trying to poke through. Even though we know he no longer can fit with this world, we’re still sad to see the person that was Seth Brundle go. At the end, there’s still a personality within the insect.

The Fly is a cautionary tale, but the lessons are unlike that of the original 50s film. Yes, hubris in scientific endeavors may lead to unexpected, even unwanted results. This film, however, is warning that there must be a balance between technology and the heart (or the flesh). Seth is stunted socially until he meets Veronica. With her touch, he can make the final touch on his discovery. However, a life of withdrawn emotions has not prepared him when feelings break free, and he cares for an actual person. This lack of emotional control is just as harmful as living without emotion. It ends up costing Seth. The paradox is that during the journey to becoming a fly, Seth embraced more fully what it means to be human.

Back in 1982, director Ridley Scott dropped the audience into the then-future world of 2019 Los Angeles. It’s a seedy environment of perpetual darkness, rain, and urban sprawl. In this sci-fi noir, the police bring Rick Deckard (Harrison Ford) back into work after a self-imposed retirement from blade running. A blade runner is a specialized detective whose job is to track down bio-engineered humanoids called replicants. These are not robots, but society does not consider them fully human due to their synthetic creation and lack of emotional maturity. Will Deckard maintain his humanity during this ruthless pursuit, or has his life in this dystopia already stripped him of it? Furthermore, there are deeper puzzles to solve, especially in the 1992 and 2007 cuts.

1982 was a special year for science fiction films. In addition to Blade Runner, the year saw the release of E.T., The Thing, and Star Trek II; The Wrath of Khan, among others. Likely due to the crowded field and possible audience surprise at the film being not a typical heroic Harrison Ford picture, the film was a box office disappointment. It made just near 1.5 times its production budget, and this not including advertising, one can feel Scott’s and the studio’s hurt. Contemporarily, it’s still not a mainstream hit, but it’s developed such a cult following that the studio released a sequel years later. Moreover, Blade Runner’s aesthetic and mood influenced more popular science fiction films since its release than nearly any other property. This is why it’s good to see what makes Blade Runner still a thing.

Even years later, the visuals are still a wonder to observe. The combination of design and in-camera effects put the viewer in a world that is both tangible and strange. For those who have grown up on a diet of CGI, this is all physical and camera trickery. For the cityscape, the team utilized models and matte paintings, but the world is real enough that you can feel you can just drop in and shuffle amongst the crowded representation of the future. Just think of the time needed for the multipass exposures that helped give the film its unique neon-lit against darkness lighting. It gave the audience a different idea of what science fiction could be from the Star Wars and Star Trek properties.

But who are the characters that we’re following in this update of noir cinema? Deckard is the typical film noir detective: burnt-out, possibly alcoholic, and with no future. Really, he’s not much of a hero. Throughout the film, he barely makes it out of his scraps, and when he does, there’s nothing triumphant. It’s not surprising that audience interest fell off the film; word got out that Ford was not playing another Indiana Jones or Han Solo. However, it’s interesting that Ford risked playing a role different from his previous pulp characters. One could say he was reaching back to his brief role as an army officer in Apocalypse Now. Some say the disinterested attitude was due to his dissatisfaction on the movie set. It worked that it matched the listless character he was supposed to portray.

The star of the film is Roy Batty (Rutger Hauer). Despite being artificial, he’s the most sympathetic character, even after some of his brutal actions. Despite being a type of superman, he displays the most human qualities during his quest with his fellow replicants. He often shows this without words; though, his dialogue is memorable as well. The femme fatale Rachel (Sean Young) is probably the weakest of the main characters. Still, her stilted manner and speaking could be considered to be a positive attribute to add to the mystery of who she is revealed to be. Other acting props are for the weirdness of Gaff, the cold detachment of Tyrell, and the playful quirkiness of Pris.

What is most memorable about Blade Runner is the music. The production could’ve gone with traditional orchestration. Vangelis instead composed a melancholy, jazzy synth score. This perfectly sets the mood for the future setting, while paying tribute to the tropes of film noir. In fact, in addition to the synthesizers, the score utilized a saxophonist for the popular “Love Theme.” In addition, you can hear bits of Asian and Middle-Eastern tinges throughout the film. These showcase the multiethnic atmosphere of 2019 Los Angeles.

Does it date the film from being of the eighties? To a certain extent, yes. However, one should distinguish between quality and mediocre synthesizer work. Quality work brings a sense of wonder, charm, or menace depending on the emotional mood of the film. It gives added texture to remind a person that this film is from a never to be repeated era. Vangelis is one of the masters to bring on that nostalgia.

Some have leveled criticisms of dullness, lethargy, and aimless plotting against Blade Runner. Looking at the film from a certain point of view, these thoughts could have some merit. This is not an action film, at least not in the modern sense. It’s a work that emphasizes mood and atmosphere. Often, other films focus on getting the hero from point a to point b. Some will balk at this type of cinema. That’s their right. There’s a reason why the film has been re-released in multiple cuts over the years beyond the Ridley Scott revisions.

But they shouldn’t discount the impact that the film has. People will never widely love it like many of the blockbusters of the time. Even some more critically and popularly derided fare of the time like The Thing have seemed to rise to more public consciousness than Blade Runner. Still, Blade Runner welcomes at least a first view for the uninitiated. We see bits of the future running before us rather than soaring into space through this type of relatively grounded science fiction.

John Hughes was at his popularity’s apex when he wrote and directed this 1986 teen comedy. Most of his teen-centered work focuses on the angst and anxiety of modern youth life. This film focuses primarily on the free-spirited joy one has before adult responsibilities encroach. That doesn’t mean this is just some vacuous self-centered expression. Through the day’s journey, from suburb to Chicago and back, the characters either affirm or reconfirm their self-actualization.

We’re introduced to the lovable scamp Ferris (Matthew Broderick) as he feigns illness to skip school. He drags along his nervous and slightly neurotic best friend Cameron (Alan Ruck) and entices his devoted girlfriend Sloane (Mia Sara). Fooling Dean Ed Rooney (Jeffrey Jones), they journey to see the best of mid-eighties Chicago. This includes the Sears Tower, The Exchange, the Chicago Cubs, the Art Institute, and a thrilling parade that seems to unites all in downtown Chicago. Will Ferris make it home before his parents return from work, keeping his “playing hooky” secret? You’d have to see the end to find out. However, since the film is generally a romp, you can guess easily how’s it’s going to end.

As mentioned above, some like to be too critical of Ferris. He’s ego-driven. He seems to always get what he wants. It’s like he’s able to scam his way through life. I don’t believe that Hughes was suggesting that his specific actions were worthy of imitation. I also don’t think Ferris was acting in singular selfishness.  The charm of Broderick lets the audience know that Ferris is not malicious. It’s his love of life that leads him past where thought may have halted. His antics allow his friends to enjoy a day off from the humdrum monotony of the classroom. In a way, Ferris is more of a force that causes those around him, Cameron, Sloane, Rooney, and his put-upon sister Jeanie, realize the truth about themselves.

This brings us to the character that the audience most likely identifies with: Cameron. This is because the average person is not likely to disengage from a daily routine without a push. Most of us need an external source to help move us out of our comfort zones. And as with Cameron and his relationship with his father, a person may have legitimate reasons preventing emotional growth. This is why Cameron has a cheering moment when he takes a stand for his own identity against the presence of a father whose emotional absence has harmed the son.

What caught my attention, outside of character development, is the relationship with technology. Even though it’s an eighties film, a decade where tech exploded, one doesn’t think that technology would have a significant role in a non-science fiction picture. Outside of Weird Science, it’s the most prominent in this Hughes’s work. Ferris uses eighties’ staples such as the synthesizer, the phone voice modulator, and the early PC. Through these, he’s able to feign his illness and facilitate the retrieval of his girlfriend. These devices continue to help by “pulling the wool over the eyes” of those that could stop him.

There are two interesting aspects of the technology use. The first is that though Ferris is technically astute, the film doesn’t portray him as a nerd. This is something unheard of in media of the time. The second is that Ferris is controlling the technology, not vice versa. He uses the tech in accord with his motto: “Life moves pretty fast. If you don’t stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it.” Ferris, Cameron, and Sloane enjoy each other’s company and the various sights and experience. Technology is just a means to get them there. How refreshing!

Carefully watch the Art Institute visit, parade celebration, and final scene between Cameron and Ferris. There are themes of the power of art, how music and traditions can unite people across varied backgrounds, and the priority of friends and family over material things. Ferris intermittently breaks the fourth wall to provide commentary. Through this, Hughes invites the viewer to join the physical and emotional journey. I admit that I never stop getting a feeling of melancholy and wonder during the museum visit scene. The Dream Academy’s cover of “Please, Please, Please Let Me Get What I Want” further highlights the emotions and satisfies.

Ferris Bueller’s Day Off represents both the national and the universal at its best. Ferris’s trip across the Chicago area shows snippets of what makes the USA the USA. This is in contrast to the purposely dull classroom scenes. The institutions, traditions, places, and people are not something dead within a textbook. They are living in the present, and something not be overlooked. However, the film has universal appeal as well, as the search for freedom can be a human ideal. Ultimately, these can be serious topics. Hughes is able give his thoughts, as always, with a smile.

Again, it’s another story of attraction against the class divide, with a twist on the Ringwald feature. This time, we focus on a male protagonist of lesser means, Keith (Eric Stoltz), along with good friend Watts (Mary Stuart Masterson), a tomboy in similar outsider status. They have close bonds in status-conscious suburban L.A. However, their friendship comes to a breaking point when Keith gets an opportunity to date Amanda (Lea Thompson), one of the popular girls in high school. Though of a similar background as Keith and Watts, her previous relationship with the wealthy bully Hardy (Craig Sheffer), raised her star.

Will Keith and Amanda truly connect? Will Hardy really let his girl go? What’s truly hiding behind Watts’s opposition to her friend dating Amanda? And in an ancillary plot, what choice will Keith make as his father puts pressure on him to be the first in the family to attend college despite his pull to art?

Deutch doesn’t just cut and paste from his previous effort. Again, he animates most of his characters beyond teen movie stereotypes. This time, the comedy is almost entirely dropped. This is very surprising for a John Hughes work. Still, Some Kind of Wonderful is lively in the interaction between characters. Normally, the main character would be completely at odds with his family. However, despite the normal family bouts, one can sense the closeness and love within the Nelson family. I’m drawn to two scenes. One is where the older sister reveals something to him, and another is where he and his father fiercely butt heads over a college matter. In both scenes, Keith ends up being closer to his family at the end. This wouldn’t come across as realistic if it wasn’t for the acting chops of the characters.

I will however say that there are contrasting lows with some of the other characters. One can overlook the lack of development with the youngest sister and the mother. However, the bully Hardy seems somehow less interesting, despite a greater scene presence, when compared to Steff of Pretty in Pink. Despite his propensity for violence and his aggressive possessiveness of Amanda, Hardy seems less top dog of the school. He appears more as fearful competitor with Keith. Compared with James Spader, Sheffer comes off less ostensibly charming. Even though one finds out the reason why Amanda was initially drawn to Hardy, it still ends up making her less desirable. However detrimental it’s to her character, it does provide a pathway to the conclusion.

The star character is Watts, and her interactions with Keith lead more logically to the film’s end than Andie’s and Duckie’s relationship does to Hughes’s desired original ending. Watts and Keith do not have a one-sided relationship. It doesn’t seem that Keith is just tolerating her. They both care about each other and their interests. Despite her pride in her independence and outsider status, Watts doesn’t come across as silly. One can understand why Keith would want to stick by her, even if it causes him to lose cool points. Her protectiveness of him, though strong, doesn’t come across as stalkerish.    

The typical new wave soundtrack again highlights the drama of the scenes. Personally, I don’t think it’s as good as Pretty in Pink’s. However, the bands The Jesus and Mary Chain, Charlie Sexton, and Propaganda, who is featured during the opening Watts drumming sequence, stand out. The slightly heavier sounds appear to reflect the more angsty nature of the characters.

Critics generally praised Some Kind of Wonderful on release. People today seem to have neglected it in contrast with other teen films of the era. Perhaps this is due to the dramatic earnestness of the acting combined with the lack of winking at the audience. I think this separates it from the rest of the pack. Moreover, speaking of pack, it’s Brat Pack light, having only Lea Thompson, whom most view as an ancillary member anyways.

Still, one shouldn’t view the Some Kind of Wonderful as Pretty in Pink 2.0. John Hughes is writing great scenes and dialogue for teens and adults for one of the last times before he shuffled off to “kidsville” and the unbridled wackiness of his 90s work. Deutch is at his apex, letting the actors play to their strengths. They didn’t know it at the time, but the golden age of teen dramady was coming to an end. It’s wonderful that this film could be one of the concluding chapters.

The film starts literally across the railroad tracks as we see the environment that protagonist Andie (Molly Ringwald) lives in. Despite the drab, lower-income neighborhood she lives in, she’s a bright spot on the screen. With a wide smile and quirky dress style, one might think at first, she’s a star of her school. However, she’s an outcast along with her long-time friend Duckie (Jon Cryer), who’s the embodiment of spirited eccentricity. He has a crush on Andie, which will come to a head, when Andie realizes that Blane (Andrew McCarthy), one of the wealthy, popular students, has an interest in her. And for the first time, she opens herself up to love with a person who wouldn’t normally pay her attention.

There’s nothing truly out of ordinary for this story. Like Romeo and Juliet, and the stories that preceded and came after, it’s a love-across-the-divide story. Friends from both of their cliques don’t think that they should belong together. Plus, they have to deal with their own insecurities. What differentiates it from some of the other stories about teens is the strong characterization. These people don’t feel like stereotypes but as individuals with their own motivations.

While Ringwald’s definitely the star and gives a more mature performance than in her previous John Hughes work (though those should be praised for their honesty in expressing teen emotions), a spotlight should be shone particularly on the actors who portray her supportive father Jack (Harry Dean Stanton) and her antagonistic, snobbish classmate Steff (James Spader).

Stanton shows a vulnerability as a depressed single father who is still hopeful for the return of the wife that left their family. Still, he rouses himself to offer simple wisdom to his daughter. He is also humble enough to eventually face the facts set before him by Andie after an initial breakdown at the reality of his non-reconciliation with his wife.

As Steff is the antagonist and the most accomplished actor besides Stanton, I find Spader’s performance the most interesting. Yes, he’s a bully, but he’s not as one-dimensional as seen on the surface. Spader is antagonistic more because she continually rejects his interest rather than just because he hates poor girls. The close-ups of their tense stare-downs are some of the top images.  Looking at his interaction with wealthy girlfriend, one can sense that he knows she’s vapid. He shows less respect for her than for Andie though he won’t admit it. The fact is that Andie can see through his materialism and see his lack of character. She still isn’t willing in the end to lump all the “richies” as the same by reaching out to Blane. This drives Steff crazy.

Where there might be some disagreement with popular opinion is on the character of Duckie. Sorry, I’m not part of the Duckie fan club. I don’t entirely fault the performance of Jon Cryer. He was likely following the script and the direction. However, I’ve come to find his behavior as less endearing than obnoxious. It’s obvious that Andie cares for him as friend. It seems though that Duckie is trying to be more pressing than wooing. If they got together in the end, it would seem like he broke her down. Not that she discovered some new charm that turned friendship into romance. It’s my opinion why the original ending should’ve been scuttled and Deutch shouldn’t feel bad about current ending. Though his unhappiness did give us another classic teen movie.

Blane acts bland compared to the other characters, but that’s not too harmful to the acting. He has more personality than Ringwald’s romantic interest in Sixteen Candles. He just serves as the mysterious, nice, but somewhat aloof-looking guy that many teen girls long for. It also doesn’t hurt that he has some bucks.

What most people consider as the true star of Pretty in Pink is the soundtrack. Instead of relying on safe Top 40 hits of 1985, it showcased then-less known new wave, synth-pop, and alternative artists. We get New Order, Echo and the Bunnymen, The Smiths, and The Psychedelic Furs of the title song, among others. The music fits the scene and puts you in the minds and hearts of the teenager of the mid-80s. Though decades from that time, the music is still great. It’ll cause you to want to delve deeper into the 80s music scene beyond the more popularized artists.

Pretty in Pink is a wonderful snapshot of an era and a group of actors that were at their prime across a number of films for a brief window of time. I like the zany aspects of Hughes’s writing. However, it’s nice to view a story stripped back to earnest romantic drama, even if it’s just youthful crushes. Deutch molded the given material into a film that breathes the 80s but can exist without irony outside the decade.

Pretty in Pink (1986) Official Trailer

In the spring of 1989, a film that was supposed to make waves in the creature feature genre only made ripples. Critically lambasted, George P. Cosmatos’s Leviathan didn’t even make its budget back in theatrical revenues. It didn’t help that it was the year of multiple underwater sci-fi films. Audiences and critics looked forward to James Cameron’s The Abyss instead. However, despite its flaws, are there elements that might entice the modern viewer?

In the beginning, we find out that a crew of Tri-Oceanic Corp is at the end of a three-month underwater operation. These crew members are tired, and the majority are eager to return above shore. During what was to be a final job, a crew member salvages a safe from a downed Soviet submarine (funny now as the film is set in 2027, and the Soviet Union would collapse in 1991 in reality). A celebratory occasion turns into a nightmare. The crew learns too late that the submarine was scuttled deliberately for humanity’s sake.

The film features a strong selection of character actors, whose interaction with each other is one of the film’s strong points. Peter Weller (of Robocop fame) stars as Steven Beck, the geologist supervising the mining operation. Richard Crenna is the company physician with a troubled past. Ernie Hudson, Amanda Pays, Daniel Stern, Hector Elizondo, Lisa Eilbacher, and Michael Carmine round out the rest of the crew.

Special note goes out to Hudson and Stern. Hudson plays his character Justin Jones as sarcastic, antagonistic, but ultimately caring. However, what happens to him near the end though is so dumb that even Hudson voiced his concerns to the director. For most people used to Stern as his character in the Home Alone films, his role as Sixpack might be a bit of a shock. He plays one of the most one-note, scuzzy characters. It’s surprising that the crew would have tolerated his presence for that period without coming to blows. It’s fitting that his actions lead to the crew’s outcome. Meg Foster also shows up as the Tri-Oceanic CEO who may or may not have the crew’s best interests in mind.

Visually, the film is fine. Unlike The Abyss, the filmmakers utilized dry-for-wet shooting for most of the scenes. Unless you play really close attention, it’s difficult to tell the difference. Furthermore, few of the action scenes occur underwater, with most occurring within the mining facility. Thus, there’s more of a necessity for a believable sound stage, which the production provided.

Obviously, for this type of film, the focus is going to be on the creature effects. In honesty, there are both good and bad elements of the Stan Winston design. The mutations that affect the crew are still praiseworthy years later. Though critics derided the film as an imitation of previous films, the effects are still nightmare-worthy up to a point. That point is when the audience sees the final reveal of the creature. With that as the look, the director and cinematographer probably should’ve left it underwater and in the dark. What was freaky and out-of-this-world looks cheap by the end. This became a rushed production. However, the director and studio knew this, and there should’ve been a decision to not have the climax in daylight.

Praise goes to Jerry Goldsmith for the music. He begins by invoking the mystery of the ocean with a swelling orchestral score featuring whale calls. Of course, as the terror progresses, he utilizes more tension-based pieces. During the chases, I think there’s even a tinge of pulsating synth, though the horns and strings remain prominent. I even give props for the concluding piece, “A Lot Better.” It however sounds more appropriate for a classic western or the end credits of a triumphant sports film. The director and composer likely felt that they needed music to match the visuals of the survivors departing in victory.

Leviathan was and is never going to equal likes of Alien, The Thing, or The Abyss. Yes, it’s derivative and a bit mindless. Not all films however have to be classics. Some are above average flicks to put on for some thrills and showcasing of the talent, whether it’s acting or effects. If you’re not into creature features then I cannot recommend this movie as a must-see. However, if you like B-movies with mostly top-grade production, then you might want to give it a view. Moreover, it’s one of those movies that feels tangible unlike the CGI-reliant features that are dominant now. That buoys this underwater feature up a little.

There’s no rest and relaxation for the terrorized couple featured in the tense 1989 Australian thriller Dead Calm. A time of recovery in grief becomes a fight for life when they come across a man with a dark secret. How will they survive in the middle of the Pacific Ocean isolated from outside help?

Within the first few minutes of director’s Phillip Noyce’s feature, you already empathize with John (Sam Neill and Rae (Nicole Kidman) Ingram. A joyful homecoming for the naval officer turns into a familial tragedy. To recover, John takes his wife on an extended vacation on their yacht. The couple spot a mysterious man (Billy Zane) furiously rowing away from a stranded ship and towards them.  What is he hiding behind those boyish looks? Will their assisting him be their last mistake? What will happen if the dead calm of the ocean begins to stir?

A film of this sort can be hard to pull off. Why? Because the cast is small and the setting is one of isolation, the focus is primarily on the performances of the actors. With a larger cast and multiple locations, you can often overlook a bad performance or two or a mundane plot if the action is varied and there are great visuals. This way you’re not fixated on the weaknesses of the feature.

Fortunately, all three actors perform well, pushing the story along so that you’re wondering what each will do next under the circumstances. Neill portrays John as the resolute and capable husband that he would likely be as a military man. Although he makes an early error in judgement, he does his best to recover and survive with the skills that he would’ve likely learned in the navy. However, Kidman really shines as the hero of Dead Calm. She makes physical and emotional sacrifices to deal with the terror inflicted by Hughie, the mysterious young man brought aboard. It takes an incredible actress to portray the varied emotions that she displays as Rae. It’s an amazing role for her, a then-young woman known for light comedies such as BMX Bandits.

What about Billy Zane? It’s a shame that his career hit an apex in the mid-nineties with The Phantom and Titanic. In this role, he’s able to combine a devilish charm with an unsettling presence. When you first view Hughie in a frantic but tired, terrified state, you can sense that something is not quite right, but the ultimate mystery still hovers. There’s a brief scene where he is staring back into the distance with a haunting look on his face while the music swells. In another context, this could be a triumphant stand of the hero. However, we know this character is a psychopath with a sordid path. Is he regretful of what he did? The viewer has to decide.

The discussion of this scene brings us to one of the highlights of Dead Calm: the music. Graeme Revell, then new to film composition, brings a unique take to the genre. Having a background in the industrial scene of the time, he brings a touch of that to the synthesized-based scoring. The music is often rhythmic with tribal tinges to it. In addition to the track “Sadness” that plays during the previous scene just mentioned, the other highlight is “Finding John” that mixes a calming synth line, pulsating beats, and chant-like breathing. Combined with the dusk-to-night visuals, it leaves an impression.

Most of the filming takes place during daytime. Compared to nighttime action, it can be harder to convey horror during the bright daylight. The visuals of a ship against the ocean and the high sun is beautiful; to most people it would convey a pleasure cruise rather than a fight for life. However, the director and cinematographer are able to a picture of relaxation into an atmosphere of dread. Instead, it’s during the nighttime where we begin to feel a return from despair to triumph.

Even many who have much positive overall to say about the film have one major gripe: the ending scene. A fairly grounded film ends in an over-the-top fashion. This does not mean there is fantastical break from reality, but there’s a spectacular conclusion that became predictable in later thrillers. It should be noted that it was not the original ending, which was more open-ended. I don’t feel that it ruins the film; I do believe there could be more connective tissue to how the movie gets there. It didn’t necessarily have to feel tacked on, but it does. Either the studio should’ve let Noyce know they wanted that ending during principal filming, or let the original ending stand.

People seem to mention Dead Calm as a curiosity rather than as a must film now. Generally, they highlight that it lead to Kidman and Zane becoming bankable lead actors. However, though it’s not a masterpiece, one can recognize it as an accessible film that provides thrills without dumbing down the characters in order to move the story along. Moreover, it has a taut running time so that it doesn’t sink under the weight of outstaying its welcome.