Employee Picks: A Wacky Sex Comedy, Deranged Italian Horror, And Psychedelic '70s Sci-Fi
(Welcome to Employee Picks, a series where Jacob Knight uses his day job expertise as a video store manager to recommend unique and often overlooked alternative options to the big movies hitting theaters and home video.)
Hello and welcome back to Employee Picks! In case you missed the rules in the first and second editions of the column: for every big-name motion picture on the horizon, I suggest something from the archives to watch in its place that's either thematically, spiritually, or tangentially related.Yes, I have fully accepted my role in this world: the goofball hipster who wants you to get the hell out of the multiplex and into the realm of pure weirdness (and I won't apologize one bit).
With those general parameters in mind, here are my alternative picks for every big movie dropping on Blu-Ray, DVD or VOD this July.
Your Alternative: The Last American Virgin (1982, d. & w. Boaz Davidson)
Where Blockers sees a group of parents – including John Cena and Leslie Mann – trying to prevent their kids from getting down on prom night, The Last American Virgin (which finds Boaz Davidson remaking his own '78 Israeli coming of age farce Lemon Popsicle) is possibly the ultimate teen sex movie, as a group of dorks work their asses off to get rid of their V-Cards. Scored to one of the greatest soundtracks ever assembled – showcasing The Cars, Blondie, and The Police – it climaxes in one of the most unexpectedly melancholy final shots in the history of cinema. Come for the c**k jokes, stay to get your heart broke.
The Last American Virgin is available on Blu-ray, courtesy of Olive Films.
Your Alternative: The Constant Gardener (2005, d. Fernando Meirelles)
Fernando Meirelles' City of God follow-up is one of the better modern big screen John le Carré adaptations, as Ralph Fiennes' devastated diplomat investigates the murder of his activist wife Tessa (Rachel Weisz), haunted by regret regarding their marriage and rumors of her possibly sleeping around during their final years together. Meirelles spins the story into an overwhelmingly sad adventure that uncovers corporate corruption and climaxes in tear-jerking sacrifice. This is one of the most undervalued films of the aughts, containing what's arguably Fiennes' most moving, human performance. An essential piece of international pulp fiction.
The Constant Gardener is available on Blu-ray, courtesy of Universal Home Entertainment.
Your Alternative: No Escape (1994, d. Martin Campbell)
For those of us who grew up during the '90s, No Escape will be a blast from the past, as it was a late-night cable staple of sci-fi/action schlock cinema. Instead of the high-tech penitentiaries of Escape Plan, Ray Liotta's insurrectionary soldier is imprisoned on Absolom, a primitive island where the convicts – led by Stuart Wilson and Lance Henriksen – have formed two warring tribes, and the rogue warrior is now forced to choose a side...or die trying. It's a no frills cheap thrill that threatens to go off the rails on numerous occasions, but Martin Campbell (Goldeneye) is too sturdy a genre workman to ever let No Escape lose its way.
Your Alternative: Testament (1983, d. Lynne Littman)
Where A Quiet Place transforms one family facing the end of the world into a sci-fi monster movie rollercoaster ride, Testament is more concerned with the realistic effects of living in a universe that's been devastated by nuclear attack. Jane Alexander and William Devane play parents, desperately trying to hold onto any semblance of hope, as radiation sickness begins to whittle the population of human survivors down to zero. Not for the faint of heart, Lynne Littman's final feature narrative (before exiting the arena to helm TV movies and docs) is difficult to watch, mostly because it's so terrifyingly relatable for anyone who's ever lived in an American suburb. This is the end of all things for your friends and neighbors, and there's nothing you can do to prevent it.
Your Alternative: A Boy & His Dog (1975, d. & w. L.Q. Jones)
A truly outlandish and psychedelic landmark in '70s sci-f filmmaking, character actor L.Q. Jones' post-apocalyptic fable about the titular teen (Don Johnson) and his trusty telepathic canine transforms a story from the recently passed literary hero Harlan Ellison into an odyssey full of marauders, misanthropy and underground sex cults, who want to treat a crude, uneducated rapist into their inseminating stud. For those who thought Isle of Dogs' approach to its Japanese storyline was "problematic", wait until they sit down with a movie where the "hero" literally trades food for sex crime victims with man's best friend, who sniffs out fresh women for him to force himself upon. A true product of its times, you could never make a movie like A Boy & His Dog today, because its commitment to cynical commentary is like a hit of bad acid, barely diluted by its genre trappings.
A Boy & His Dog is available on Blu-ray, courtesy of Shout! Factory.
Your Alternative: Super Fuzz (1980, d. Sergio Corbucci)
A goofy, light-hearted departure from his usual bleak, hardnosed spaghetti Westerns, Sergio Corbucci (The Great Silence) directs this madcap farce (one of many he made during the '70s/'80s), where bumbling Miami police officer Dave Speed (Terence Hill) gains superpowers thanks to a nuclear explosion. Those expecting some sort of superhero adventure will be sorely disappointed, as Corbucci employs a zany comedic sensibility, going lowbrow as humanly possible as Speed almost kills his superior (Ernest Borgnine) for the fourth time amidst a series of belches, farts and practically destroying every single thing that stands in his way. Yet for those of us who enjoy the simple joys of goofball visual gags – such as Borgnine dancing atop a giant bubblegum balloon – there's plenty to adore about Corbucci's cop side-splitter. Like either of the Super Troopers films, Super Fuzz is best enjoyed with a head full of smoke.
Your Alternative: Primal Rage (1988, d. Vittorio Rambaldi)
As elementally stupid and trashy as Italo-horror can get, Primal Rage sees a university student experimenting on baboons at his school, inadvertently creating a killer race of super sapiens, who tear through the campus, looking to maim the living shit out of everyone and everything. Co-written by Italian exploitation lifer Umberto Lenzi (Eaten Alive!), sporting splatter SFX by Carlo Rambaldi (Deep Red), a score by Claudio Simonetti (Demons) and a big lug performance from Bo Svenson (who isn't forced to play a Southern sheriff for once), Primal Rage doesn't quite live up to that insane pedigree. Nevertheless, it's still one hell of a Z-Grade, nonsensical monster movie that climaxes with killer mandrills crashing a New Wave Halloween rave – which actually is just as good as it sounds.
Your Alternative: Brainscan (1994, d. John Flynn)
John Flynn was mostly known for his ultraviolent action movies – such as the Paul Schrader revenge all-timer Rolling Thunder and the Steven Seagal vs. the mob epic Out For Justice – so Brainscan stands as a truly head-scratching anomaly in his filmography. Featuring Edward Furlong as a CD-ROM video game geek who conjures up the nose-ringed metal demon Trickster (Frank Langella), who takes the punk rock keyboard jockey on a real-life assassination tour, it's more of a '90s update on Evilspeak than anything else. But Flynn's background in nasty crime diversions allows him to wallow in the grimy details of each murder scene, as Furlong's increasingly paranoid, isolated rich kid struggles to comprehend what's real and what's not. Using a blueprint co-written by Seven's Andrew Kevin Walker and a scored by P-Funk banger genius George S. Clinton, Brainscan is a weird hodgepodge of influences that marks it as one of the more idiosyncratic pieces of mid-90s horror.
Brainscan is available on Collector's Edition Blu-ray next month, courtesy of Scream Factory.
Your Alternative: Baby Blood (1990, d. Alain Robak)
Having a child is a ton of work, but it's even more taxing when you've been impregnated by an otherworldly parasite that demands you feed it pure plasma. Baby Blood is one of the gnarliest gore porn freak outs ever committed to film, as French filmmaker Alain Robak paints almost every frame with a thick coat of extreme splatter, never sparing the audience a single detail as poor expecting waif Yanka (Emmanuelle Escourrou) must tear and rip flesh before ingesting the fresh crimson she spills. It's a scenario out of every mother's worst nightmare and makes the trials Charlie Theron endures in Tully seem like a total walk in the park by comparison. Don't ever watch this if you want or are currently carrying a baby, because the only word that will be flashing through your head immediately after the credits roll is "terminate".