Showing posts with label paul michael glaser. Show all posts
Showing posts with label paul michael glaser. Show all posts

Thursday, July 5, 2012

Horrible Non-Horror: Kazaam!



"I was a medium-level juvenile delinquent from Newark who always dreamed about doing a movie. Someone said, 'Hey, here's $7 million, come in and do this genie movie.' What am I going to say, no? So I did it."—Shaquille O’Neal

With logic like that, it’s almost hard to be too tough on Kazaam, one of the more infamous critical bombs of the 1990s. Then again, the fact that O’Neal made $7 million off it AND rapped extensively throughout the process eliminates any guilt I might have.

Quick Plot: When a wrecking ball knocks into the window of an abandoned antique lamp shop, the disembodied voice of an NBA all-star is released into a boom box soon to be discovered by Max, an unhappy sixth grader struggling to cope with his mom’s impending marriage to a perfectly nice fireman, the mystery of having never met his deadbeat dad, and daily beatings from Latino bullies. Poor white kids in the ‘90s!


It looks like SOME screenwriter watched a whole lot of live action 1990s Disney kids’ films, eh?

Upon finding the mystical boom box (and yes, this being 1996, one could and should take a chug of Zima every time the words “boom box” are used), Max frees the titular genie Kazaam, who introduces himself via rap.


Well, I think it’s rap. Shaq basically talks in rhyme and music plays underneath him. That’s the same thing, right?

Although Max is guaranteed three wishes, Kazaam’s skills are a little rusty, rendering the kid dubious of his newfound rapper’s delight’s actual powers. What follows is a not-creepy-at-all sequence wherein Kazaam starts following the kid’s every move, be it to find his smarmy music pirating dad or, um, to bed.


But back to the music pirating, since that’s the ultimate plotline Kazaam’s script chooses to follow. Makes sense really: if there’s one thing 6-12 year old audiences want in their mainstream family comedy films, it’s a morality lesson about the illegal side of the recording industry. Will Max’s absentee father learn that videotaping live performances to sell on the black market for an evil mustache twirling, genie hijacking Arab is wrong? Ain’t NO villain worse than a sham recording studio executive!


Sigh. Even The Nucracker In 3D knew that when in doubt, toss in a Nazi.


Directed by Paul Michael Glaser (the man responsible for two of my vastly different guilty pleasures, The Running Man and The Cutting Edge), Kazaam stands today as hilariously ill-planned attempt to create a Rock-like movie star using a cookie cutter kids’ film. It pains me to say this, but Shaquille O’Neal isn’t actually the worst thing about Kazaam. Like a lot of athletes-turned-thespians, the man can’t quite act, but is surprisingly likable when just hanging around.


Just ask Max’s mom, who temporarily forgets her engagement to a hot NYC firefighter to flirt with the 7’ tall self-proclaimed tutor to her tweve-year-old son.

This being Kazaam, however, Shaq doesn’t JUST hang around. He raps. He does the cabbage patch. He delivers lines like “This puts the boom in box!” in a manner that, despite his self-describing introductory song, is neither contagious, outrageous, nor spontaneous.


Although I’m not saying it isn’t funny.

No, the problem with Kazaam—aside from its very existence—is that it’s so clearly written as a product by people who can’t quite really write to begin with. Nevertheless, screenwriters Christian Ford and Roger Soffer grabbed a batch of proven tropes—fatherless kid, teen bullies, magical (literally) Negro, stock Arab villains (aaahhhh the ‘90s), product placement—and mushed them into something of a movie. With an incredibly unlikable brat of a protagonist and a muddled plot (remember: the bad guys in this KIDS’ FILM are music bootleggers) Kazaam is rather wonderfully miscalculated.


Also, a tad, perhaps one might say, racist? Or just weirdly unaware of some of its implications. See, when a black man tells a bratty young white boy that the kid is now his master, something slightly wrong is going on. “I own you!” Max later shouts when Kazaam dares to ignore his whims. Yes, this post is coming from someone who epically ranted against The Blind Side to the occasional ‘you’re overreacting’ comment, but PLEASE don’t tell me I’m not supposed to be reading anything into A WHITE BOY OWNING A BLACK MAN.


Perhaps one could think of Kazaam as a ‘90s version of The Toy. Except with rapping. And with the grand comedy skills of Richard Pryor replaced by the wooden enthusiasm of a basketball player. And with Middle Eastern music pirates standing in for Jackie Gleason, piranhas, and the KKK.


Did I mention the rapping?

High Notes
Shaq gets a “NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” moment, and you KNOWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW how much I love those

Low Notes
It’s not my place to criticize a film I’m only watching BECAUSE of its awful reputation, but even the bad movie lover in me can’t find a proper rationalization for why concert bootleggers made sense as Disney villains


Lessons Learned
Building a neutron bomb can be a little dangerous

Romeo once said to Juliet, “grab four of your friends and we’ll have a sextet.” Weird how I don’t remember that scene from 9th grade English class


Nubian goat eyes is the food of kings

Men are like buses. There’s always another (sound advice for a mom to pass onto her child)

In life, there are no second chances. No. Second. Chances. Well, there are if your genie becomes a djinn, but what are the odds?


The Winning Line
“And if you girls are hungry, let’s green egg and ham it”
Rapped, of course. I chose this particular lyric because from henceforth, I shall no longer use the term “Let’s get something to eat.” No no no (or as Matthew McConaughey would say in Magic Mike, “Nahhh nahhh nahhh”). My goal in life is to now see how long I can go constantly saying “Let’s green eggs and ham it” before being beaten senselessly—actually, sensibly—by friends, family, waiters, take-out cashiers, or anyone with hearing on the street


The Winning Possibly Really Inappropriate Sodomy Based Line
In a film rife with slightly discomforting scenes between a preteen and his full-grown friend with no sense of boundaries, it’s kind of a twist that The Winning Possibly Really Inappropriate Sodomy Based Line does NOT come from the mouth of a genie. Instead, there’s this:
“There’s only one place this will fit!” threaten the bullies as they wave a small key in front of Max’s terrified eyes. Um…ew?

Basketball!
Just in case you were worried that Shaquille O’Neal forgot his athletic roots, fear not:


Law & Order: SVU Alert
You KNEW I couldn’t let this one go: Max’s mother is played by Ally Walker, best known to current television audiences as the villainous Agent Stahl on Sons of Anarchy but ALSO special for guest starring in a pretty ridiculous episode of my favorite criminal justice program. In Season 11’s “Conned,” Walker played a psychiatrist who was controversially into electro-shock treatment and positively scandalously into sleeping with her thirteen-year-old patient, who was also the father of her baby. Just another day in SVU


Rent/Bury/Buy
Kazaam is pretty much as bad as you probably think it is, so those (like me) who look forward to such validation will certainly benefit from a rental. The disc is tragically sans special features, but it does have this as its menu:


Which is almost worth owning in itself.

Friday, February 5, 2010

Touch Down, Doll's House Style


Break out the guacamole and beer, it’s Super Bowl Sunday! Watch grown men hug in tight tight pants! Pity well-toned cheerleaders prancing around in hopes of staying warm enough to not catch pneumonia! See millions of dollars spent on talking babies advertising websites that will probably be gone by the time Shutter Island finally premieres!

Or don't. Not a football fan? How unAmerican (literally, as who else in their right mind watches football?). Thankfully, there are alternative activities appropriate for  this February 7th, and I'm not talking about the Animal Planet's Puppy Bowl (although that is damn adorable).

Queue up the television and gear up for a non-football Sunday involving football in genre film!

The Blob 1986


One of my favorite underappreciated horror films of the ‘80s, Chuck Russell’s remake (!!!) is a must for any horror devotee. Original gore, surprising kills, and a genuine spirit of fun makes this 1988 film (with a script co-written by some Stephen King fan named Frank Darabont) rewarding viewing for any day...particularly if you’re not a fan of football.

The Blob doesn’t do much with the sport, but one of its best twists revolves around its assumed Big Man On Campus hero, a nice young man in a letter jacket who seems poised to save the cheerleader and annihilate the giant thickened liquid devouring its way through local diners and movie theaters. He’s handsome in that bland kind of high school way but, as his premature fate proves, dude's got nothing on Kevin Dillon’s fabulously mulleted badboy. Consider this soon-to-be-remade-again classic a touchdown for outsiders harnessing death wishes on wedgie making jocks.

The Running Man


True, there’s never a wrong time to pop in this 1987 Arnold Schwarzenegger gem. Between the kickass action, colorful villains (where else have you seen a homicidal opera singer dressed like Lite Brite?) brilliant dialogue (“I’ll be back!” “Only in a rerun.”), and ahead of its time satire, Paul Michael Glaser gives Stephen King--excuse me, Richard Bachman--a worthy adaptation of fun and violent goofiness. 

In 20 years, this is probably the kind of show that would air immediately after the big game, and I for one would be far more thrilled to sit through Jesse Ventura’s Captain Freedom punching a neon spandex-wearing muscle man than a special guest star clogged episode of Friends. And hey, with two politicians playing lead roles, what could be more American. Still not sold on its pigskin pedigree? What if I told you the reigning champion of The Running Man (the game, not the movie) was former Cleveland Browns star Jim Brown? And his character is named Fireball? Because his weapon of choice is a flamethrower? Plus, there's hockey for the Canadians, classical music for the cultured, and Richard Dawson for the elderly fans of Family Feud. Everybody's a winner (except for most of the cast, who die)!

The Faculty


Looking past the somewhat dated CGI, Robert Rodriguez’s hybrid high school sci-fi/horror is arguably one of the best--or at least, freshest--genre films of the 1990s. Take a Dawson’s Creek ready cast of walking teenage archetypes, sprinkle in some killer cameos (Salma Hayek, Jon Stewart, Piper Laurie, to name a few) and inject some Invasion of the Body Snatchers style  and you get a successful mash-up of homage and new horror. 

But what makes this soft R-Rated 1998 flick worth your Super Bowl Sunday? Did you hear the part where I mentioned it’s set in high school? And let me add, a small town. If films and television have taught us anything, it’s that any middle America hamlet is required to devote half its budget and much of its glory to football. The Faculty has a lot of fun with this, cheekily showing the benefit of a close-contact game when you’re trying to take over the world with an easily transmitted alien virus. Shawn Hatosy‘s star quarterback even gets a poignant identity crisis storyline, but it’s ultimately Robert Patrick who makes this a film to replace the first two quarters  you were planning on devoting to the Saints & Colts. Strict sports coaches can be a scary thing--I’ve seen Freddy’s Revenge--but only the T-1000 himself can succeed at being so coldly menacing while wearing a pair of unflattering gym shorts.

Play Zombies Ate My Neighbors


Granted, this one takes a little nostalgic pack-rackism on your part, but if you've saved that dusty Super Nintendo system and more importantly, this superbly fantastic game, you've got an entire Sunday of pure bliss staring at you in 16 bit graphics. 

The story is simple: a small town with an abundance of water pistols, beaches, Egyptian musuems, castles, shopping malls, hedge mazes, and toxic waste dumps has been invaded by a whole lot of classic movie monsters (including, but not limited to mummies, vampires, werewolves, axe-throwing dolls, clones, Tremors, 50' tall babies, spiders, giant ants, Martians, blobs, and of course, the titular undead). Your job? Save as many civilians as you can. As cheerleaders are worth the most points, Zombies Ate My Neighbors is more than fitting for Super Bowl Day, especially since one level is set on a football field where your character must dodge fast gliding quarterbacks to grab the bouncing blond. 

So good luck to the betting men and women out there, go Colts if you're a Colts fan, Saints if you're a Saints fan, and godaddy.com if you're a daddy dot com. Otherwise, happy sort-of genre film football day to all!