The makers of this comedy-drama set in Northern California’s off-the-grid pot-growing paradise have said they are trying to revive the spirit of the ’70s American film renaissance that gave us the likes of “Five Easy Pieces” and “The Graduate.” “Humboldt County” has an impressive cast and captures some of that era’s fuzzy rebelliousness and humanism, but taken on its own the picture is finally thin stuff.

Peter (Jeremy Strong), a troubled UCLA medical student with a cold fish of a dad (Peter Bogdanovich), beds a wild-child nightclub singer (Fairuza Balk) named Bogart, and is more or less kidnapped by her and driven up north to her family’s marijuana farm.

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Humboldt County - the “Lost Coast” - is where the hippies of the late ’60s made their last stand, and straitlaced Peter is startled by Bogart’s dope-loving kin: Scraggly-haired Jack (Brad Dourif), a former UCLA physics professor; his Earth-mother wife, Rosie (Frances Conroy); and their son Max (Chris Messina), who’s spent too much time dodging Drug Enforcement Administration officers. Also on hand is Max’s free-spirited daughter, Charity (Madison Davenport).

Peter goes through some changes, as the hippies used to say, and Max plots a big score in hopes of buying Charity a more normal life.

“Humboldt County” pokes a bit of deserved fun at the potheads (Dourif and Conroy are right on the money), but also admires the way these eccentric characters are walking the walk. The main problem is Peter: He seems like a one-dimensional sourpuss whose mellowing-out is all too predictable.

– Advisory: Drug content and language.

Imagine, 39 half-hour shows, and on just three DVDs yet! I settled down to watch "Revenge," the very first of 266 episodes shot over seven successful seasons, this one starring Ralph Meeker (

Kiss Me Deadly

) and Vera Miles (

Psycho

,

The Searchers

), and directed by Hitchcock himself. Though I'd seen most of the Hitch-directed episodes, somehow this one had passed me by up to now.

But here I was, at last enjoying a gorgeous black and white transfer, without the annoying time-compression and myriad commercials that had marred cable television airings of the show in the 1980s and '90s. Yep, classic Hitchcock I note. First several minutes unspool almost entirely visually, with a minimum of dialogue. Clever man, that Hitchcock - first episode and within minutes he shows a couple in bed making out, and soon thereafter Vera Miles, still very young, sunbathing in what in 1955 constituted racy swimwear. Shrewd. Probably won its timeslot. Wait. Smoke in their trailer home. Where's Vera? Is she dead?

And then it happened.

My Sony DVD player jams. Can't read the DVD properly. Everything gets cubey. Image freezes. No sweat, I say. I'll just stick this in DVD player #2. Yes, everything fine again. For about 90 seconds. Desperate, I turned to DVD player #3. Universal's DVD really doesn't like that player. Won't even play up to the point where the other two players did. I have to pull the plug out of the wall before I can get the DVD out of the machine.

Three strikes, you're out.

Okay, so here's the deal. I don't expect every DVD ever manufactured to play in every DVD player devised by man. Similarly, I don't expect every one out there plunking down $39.98 SRP for

Alfred Hitchcock Presents

to be expected to have an unending supply of DVD players so that they can work their way through player after player to find one that'll play the discs properly. Note to Universal: most people make do with just one DVD player. A DVD from a major label should play on most machines without any problems.

Unfortunately, this is not an isolated case. It's happened again and again to consumers buying Universal's "Monster Legacy" sets, and other titles where too much movie or too many TV shows are crammed onto double-sided DVD-18s. It happened to me in the middle of

Black Friday

, a film on the label's

Bela Lugosi Collection

, and again on Volume 3 of

The Best of Abbott & Costello

. A thousand minutes plus extras, plus subtitles plus several minutes of ads — these, of course, play just fine — is apparently more information than DVD technology was meant to comfortably handle.

Angry consumers, understandably peeved with this problem time and again, are venting all over the Internet, but to date Universal has been pretty unresponsive to the problem. If they want to respond here I'll happily amend this review.

Ultimately, once bitten, twice shy, so says the old adage. When one episode or movie is spoiled halfway through, it's no fun to skip over several minutes of unplayable footage (if you

can

skip over it; often you can't even do that)*, and then sit there, blood boiling, expecting it to freeze up again at any moment.

What's the point in making these movies and TV shows available if, part of the time, they're not playable? I don't have figures at my disposal, but based on my own, personal experiences and those of friends and of strangers I've read across the Internet, it seems reasonable to estimate that perhaps as many as 50% of these sets freeze up at least once. That's too much. Whatever happened to quality control? Surely Universal was aware of the problem early on, and unquestionably knows about it now. What are they going to do about it?

Alfred Hitchcock Presents

, as I remember it, is a good show. A boxed set with all 39 first season episodes is welcome. But in good conscience, after experiencing major jamming problems on three different players, after a history of similar problems with other Universal DVD-18s, this reviewer cannot advise consumers to "take a chance" on a product that very possibly won't work on their DVD player at home. No, good as

Alfred Hitchcock Presents

is, my advice is to Skip It.

*Episodes on these discs are without chapter stops, so skipping ahead isn't a viable option.

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UPDATE: Angry Consumers Respond

DVD Talk Readers have responded to this review with an unusually high degree of commiseration. Here's what some of them are saying:

"I too have been burned once again. The first time with Universal was

American Dreams

….The second was on

Emergency

….I just got the

Alfred Hitchcock

set today and the second disc was a floater and scratched….It played fine until the fourth episode, "Shopping for Death," and 15 minutes into the show it froze, paused, skipped and locked up. When I got the disc out and put it back in it didn't even get through the universal logo without pixilating this time. Anyway, I am mad!"

"It's bad enough to have to speed through the Hammer Collection, the Legacy discs, the A&C Collections, etc, before it's too late to return them, often enough not enjoying the films at all, for fear of what might happen, unable to watch at one's leisure, but I will not do that with 39 episodes of a great series. I skipped the Lugosi and I'll skip this now — either they can get it right or I'll just let it go. The anxiety is not worth it."

"I had the exact same problem with my set of

Adam-12

DVDs that I got for my birthday. I emailed Universal about it, and cited the fact that Amazon.com readers had the exact same problem on the exact same episode — and Universal sent me an email saying they hadn't heard of any problem and didn't bother to send me a replacement or anything. There's got to be someone in charge that people can complain directly to."

"[Your review] puts my frustration and disappointment with Universal's recent DVD-18 releases into perfect form….I was looking forward to this title,

American Gothic

, and

The Munsters

, but with this track record I'll spend my money elsewhere. What is even more interesting is that, according to others, Netflix has single sided DVD-9s of [other Universal titles]. How come consumers weren't given that choice?…Mad as hell and not taking it anymore."

Stuart Galbraith IV is a Kyoto-based film historian whose work includes


The Emperor and the Wolf - The Lives and Films of Akira Kurosawa and Toshiro Mifune


and Taschen's forthcoming

Cinema Nippon

. Visit Stuart's Cine Blogarama

here

.

The opening goes into maybe too much detail about the sad existence of
Reese (Zooey Deschanel), who’s scrabbling to make it in New York’s fringe
theater scene, using cocaine, sleeping around and living a generally
self-destructive life. On her mother’s death, Reese is offered serious money by
a book agent for the love letters of her estranged dad (Ed Harris), an
alcoholic writer living in retreat in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula.

(Don’t be surprised if you’re reminded of J.D. Salinger; the Harris
character’s name is Dan Holdin, close enough to Holden Caulfield to make the
point hard to miss. Just to add to the fun, actress Deschanel is named after
Salinger’s character Zooey.)

When Reese arrives at Dad’s door to find the letters, she learns not only
that he’s moved into his garage but also that the household is more or less
ruled by a couple of newcomers (to her): Corbit (Will Ferrell), a quirky
ex-Christian rocker who functions as bodyguard and handyman, and Shelly (Amelia
Warner), a young British woman who’s an ex-student of Dan’s and works as
housekeeper (and maybe more). Reese clearly resents her father’s new “family.”

She will, of course, learn a thing or two about her dad, as well as his
caretakers, who turn out to be something other than interlopers.

Harris, the big name in the cast, does a decent job as the genius in
serious decline, but the role lacks complexity. The picture really belongs to
Deschanel, an appealing performer with a deadpan manner that serves her
shell-shocked character pretty well. She has some maturing to do as an actress,
but overall it’s a creditable job. For Ferrell (who worked with Deschanel in
“Elf”) this is an unusually serious role, but he brings a quirky humor to this
very odd duck of a character.

You can carp about this picture — the suffering-artist motif is pretty
heavy-handed and the upbeat ending isn’t quite convincing — but it’s a
pleasingly small-scale offering with some nice rewards for the viewer willing
to overlook its problems.

– Advisory: Profane language and scenes of sexual activity and drug use.

– Walter Addiego

Drama.
Starring Johnny Depp, Samantha Morton and John Malkovich. Directed by Laurence
Dunmore. (R. 115 minutes. At Bay Area theaters.)

Looking like a gloomy Marc Bolan in 17th century ringlets, Johnny Depp
emerges from darkness to open “The Libertine” with a warning: “You will not
like me.” Why not? Because, he boasts, his character is a shameless hedonist
and an unconscionable cad. Coming from Depp’s well-formed lips, this sounds
more like a promise than a threat. Bring on the debauch!

But there is little debauchery to be had in Laurence Dunmore’s adaptation
of “The Libertine.” In fact, hedonism has never looked so bleak. Working from
the play by Stephen Jeffreys, Dunmore presents his subject, John Wilmot, the
second earl of Rochester (Depp), as a garrulous misanthrope for whom pleasure
is a dreary intellectual exercise. Wilmot doesn’t engage in ribaldry — he
mocks it, even while carousing through London’s brothels with his
goblet-swinging, wench-hunting posse of dandies.

To hear Wilmot tell it — and tell and tell it — it’s not easy being
a libertine. He’s bored, so bored, by his own sexuality, and soon we are, too.
A film like “Caligula” at least reveled in campy surplus; here carnality is
signified only by acres of swollen and heaving bosoms punctuated by stilted
dialogue that blends earthy expletives with overripe metaphors. Sadly, the
dialogue is the only stiff thing to be found in “The Libertine”: Wilmot and his
colleagues talk about their exploits at great length, but talking is all they
do. Their lives in ye olde fast lane are stuck in the mud.

Wilmot is briefly roused from his torpor by actress Elizabeth Barry
(Samantha Morton). She’s sassy, dedicated to her art, and uninterested in
anything the earl has to offer, so naturally he falls in love. This final
passion proves both his salvation and his downfall. By the third act, the earl
is spent and wasting away, much to the chagrin of his long-suffering wife
(Rosamund Pike) and his royal patron, King Charles II (John Malkovich, wearing
a formidable prosthetic nose). The rest is history.

To be fair, Dunmore’s preamble cautions us that “The Libertine” will
document the Restoration’s hangover, not its glory days. The problem is that it
succeeds too well. All mud and murky lighting, the England of Charles II really
does look like the aftermath of the world’s longest party and seems about as
pleasant. The point seems to be that too much of a good thing leads to a vast
sense of nothingness and bleak cinematography. Alas, it also results in
transforming a film about a sensualist into a remarkably sexless enterprise.

– Advisory: A landslide of explicit language, some sex and violence and
lots of mud.

– Neva Chonin

Drama.
Starring Max Riemelt, Tom Schilling and Justus Von Dohnanyi. (In German with
English subtitles. Not rated. 110 minutes. At Bay Area theaters.)

To his backers, Friedrich Weimer is the Great White Hope, their best
shot at winning back a league boxing championship. Never mind that in the
compelling drama “Before the Fall,” everyone in Friedrich’s school is white,
the finest specimens of the Aryan race handpicked to attend an exclusive
military academy created by Hitler as a training ground for future leaders.
Friedrich (Max Riemelt) distinguishes himself not only by his right hooks but
also by being the fairest and blondest of them all.

Judging from the number of recent movies on the subject, World War II is
hardly fading from the consciousness of German filmmakers, even if most are far
too young to remember it. Like its singular central character, “Before the
Fall” stands out from the pack. There are no scenes inside concentration camps
– Friedrich’s classmates appear oblivious to their existence — and the
only fighting portrayed is in the ring.

By restricting most of the film to the tight confines of an elite Nazi
school, director Dennis Gansel unveils an insidious indoctrination process that
turns the young and innocent into automatons capable of any atrocity. Gansel
occasionally resorts to sledgehammer filmmaking such as drenching the screen in
red during an ordeal by fire the cadets are subjected to, and their teachers’
extreme cruelty toward them strains credibility.

But Gansel, who based the script in part on reminiscences of his
grandfather, an instructor at one of these academies, hooks you by focusing on
Friedrich’s very human story. It’s a variation on “Golden Boy” with the German
teen using his fists to rise in the world. He’s destined to become a common
laborer like his father when a scout for the military academy sees Friedrich
win an amateur boxing bout.

Riemelt has an expressive face, especially his lively eyes, and he
captures Friedrich’s sense of awe at suddenly being catapulted into such a
rarefied circle. Hardly believing his luck, he’s the first to jump to it at his
instructors’ commands.

Initially, the environment doesn’t seem all that different from any
private school, civilian or military. The older cadets harass the younger ones,
and an enterprising student barters for extra liverwurst in return for a
glimpse of a photo of his sweat-soaked sisters working out.

It becomes harder for Friedrich to see everything through rose-colored
glasses after he becomes friends with Albrecht (Tom Schilling), the son of a
high government official. Albrecht has a highly tuned sense of right and wrong.
Competing in the ring against a student from another of Hitler’s academies,
Friedrich is egged on by his coach to keep hitting the boy when he’s down. In a
critical scene — played with great subtlety by the young actors —
Albrecht confronts his friend and tries to make him understand that just
because a higher-up told him to do it doesn’t make it right. It’s impossible to
miss the larger ramifications of what Albrecht is saying. There’s a
foreshadowing of this when the students are enlisted to hunt down supposedly
escaped prisoners of war carrying weapons, who turn out to be unarmed Jewish
children.

The rest of “Before the Fall” can be viewed as a battle for Friedrich’s
soul. The title seems to be purposely ambiguous, referring to more than just
the downfall of the Third Reich. As a coda to the movie, the production notes
state that students from these academies went on to become well-known
industrialists and political figures who’ve been “reluctant to speak about
their often humiliating childhood experiences.”

– Advisory: This film contains scenes of physical and emotional violence.

– Ruthe Stein

Documentary. Directed by Rupert Murray. With Doug Bruce. (PG-13. 87
minutes. At Bay Area theaters.)

This unsettling documentary about an amnesiac trying to put his life
back together both fascinates and frustrates. While the film raises simple but
deeply puzzling questions about memory and identity, the hit-or-miss search for
answers by the subject and assorted experts, family and friends is finally
unsatisfying.

That may simply reflect the nature of severe amnesia and our present state
of knowledge about it, but the movie leaves the impression that director Rupert
Murray doesn’t seem to know where to go with all of this.

“Unknown White Male” follows the experiences of Doug Bruce, a former New
York stockbroker who, in July 2003, found himself on a subway to Coney Island
but had no idea how he had gotten there or who he was.

While he eventually learned his name and the facts of his pre-amnesia
life, he never regained a real connection to that past or to his old self —
he had to get to know his father, sisters and friends as if he were a stranger.
It’s a frightening situation.

We learn details of his former life. Bruce comes from a well-to-do English
family, which he visits in their comfortable retirement in Spain in his attempt
to find out who he is. In work he had been so successful that he could quit
Wall Street in his early 30s to become a photographer, living in an impressive
Manhattan loft.

Bruce’s attempt to reconnect is a genuine battle — he even has to
reacquaint himself with fundamentals like what it feels like to crush a handful
of snow. Those who knew the pre-amnesia Bruce suggest that he’s also undergone
a personality change, having become both friendlier and more inward.

Director Murray, who had met Bruce years before his memory loss, does a
good job early in the picture of communicating his subject’s disorientation.
But the film runs out of steam, and it isn’t helped by Murray’s fondness for
fancy montages and other tricks. It’s possible that Murray was impeded by his
prior relationship with his subject — perhaps more critical distance would
have helped.

In the end Bruce remains opaque, and the film’s observations and
speculations about his condition aren’t all that incisive.

(Several newspaper and magazine articles have raised questions about the
veracity of this documentary and of Bruce’s amnesia, but the filmmakers say it
is genuine.)

– Advisory: Contains minor drug references and some strong language.

– Walter Addiego

Documentary. Directed by David Barison and Daniel Ross. (Not rated. 189
minutes, with intermission. At the Rafael Film Center in San Rafael.)

If you see just one movie this year about Martin Heidegger, make it
“The Ister.”

Sure, there are some Heideggerian questions raised by the popular “Final
Destination 3″ — Is it possible to know when we will meet our end? Will it
be on a beat-up roller coaster? Why did we pay $10 for this oxymoronically
titled tripe? — but teenage moviegoers may be surprised to learn that “The
Ister” is still a more penetrating inquiry into the controversial German
philosopher’s views.

“The Ister” is like few other films you have seen. Unless, of course, you
have already watched three hours of footage of the Danube River intercut with
talking-head interviews of intellectual heavyweights discussing such concepts
as Dasein. (Forget your Ontology 101? It means, essentially, existence.)

Australian directors David Barison and Daniel Ross call “The Ister,” their
first-ever cinematic undertaking, a “videofilm.” It’s a sort of illustrated
lecture on philosophy, a modest, low-budget project made with little adornment.
But this doesn’t mean that “The Ister” isn’t rewarding viewing. The film is
often a very engaging analysis of Big Ideas that one seldom sees on the big
screen.

What Barison and Ross set out to do is examine talks that Heidegger — a
member of the Nazi Party — delivered in 1942 on a poem about the Danube (the
Ister) by Friedrich Hölderlin. In the documentary, three philosophers and one
filmmaker interpret the meaning of Heidegger’s words (Barison and Ross are
virtually absent from their film) as a camera takes viewers on an 1,800-mile
journey up the Danube, from its mouth in Romania to its source in Germany’s
Black Forest. Most watchable is Bernard Stiegler, a brilliant and amused
Frenchman who must have the distinction of being the only ascot-wearing
philosopher who once served five years in prison for armed robbery.

Along the way, viewers learn about Greek myths and complex notions of time
and place, of memory and forgetting. What begins innocently enough — an
exploration of an ancient Greek and Roman past in Romania — becomes more
disturbing as images of war-ravaged Yugoslavia and what had been the Mauthausen
concentration camp fill the screen. In a very real sense, the film’s tour is a
trip into the heart of darkness.

But “The Ister” is far from perfect. The concepts expressed in it
certainly need time to be fully explained, yet some editing wouldn’t have hurt.
Like the editing, the camera work is clumsy, and shots of the river are often
deadened by a lack of ambient sound. And as compelling as the interviewees can
be, it’s unfortunate that they were mostly filmed while sitting — yawn —
at a desk. A film about profound ideas deserved more imagination.

– John McMurtrie

Walter Addiego, Neva Chonin, Ruthe Stein, John McMurtrie

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The Plot:
For the second series of The f Word some things have changed, while others have remained the same. Opening up The f Word restaurant in London, Ramsay invites 50 special customers to come and taste his current wares. Each time, he creates a unique three course meal - starter, main dish, and pudding - and then gauges the reaction and response to his latest inspirations. The twist this time around? Aside from claiming that each entree is something that anyone can and could cook at home, Ramsay’s diners are asked if they would be willing to “pay” for each dish. The final number of paid tickets is used to determine which of the four amateur “brigades” will return to help the chef prepare his grand finale meal. During the course of each episode, the chef also steps inside his own kitchen and gives us step-by-step instruction on how to make the recipes. Even in the commercial setting of the show, he walks us through his delicious designs.

In addition, the overall series has a collection of unique themes. The first time around, Ramsay focused on a campaign to get women “back” in the kitchen. This time, he wants to bring Sunday lunch back to British families. There’s also a more personal aspect to the show, as Ramsay tries to raise his four young children to appreciate the food they eat. This series, they are raising their own hogs for a succulent summer feast.

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Finally, in between all the celebrity chat and special reports from presenter Janice Street-Porter, Ramsay treats his customers to a competition. Famous faces step into the kitchen and match signature recipes with the master. After each one is complete, they are judged by a panel of specially chosen eaters. The winner earns f Word bragging rights. In case you’re curious about the kinds of foods offered during the eight installments within this three DVD set, here’s the individual dishes presented:

Episode 1 - Salad of Red Mullet, Saddle of Lamb, Summer Pudding

Episode 3 - Scrambled Eggs with Wild Mushrooms, Steamed Black Bream, Gratin Savion

Episode 4 - Summer Soup, Rabbit Fricassees, Rhubarb Soufflé

Episode 5 - Asian Calamari with Bok Choy, Bacon Wrapped Stuffed Chicken Leg, Crepes Suzette

Episode 6 - Prawn Toast with Cucumber Salad, Lemon Sole in Paper, Plum Tatin

Episode 7 - Onion Tart with Fried Quail Eggs, Breast of Duck with Gooseberry Sauce, Four Minute Chocolate Mousse

Episode 8 - Crab Rolls with Fresh Mango Salsa, Beef Filet with Mushroom Gratin, Hot Chocolate Fondant

Episode 9 - Scallops with Summer Truffles, Pressed Belly of Pork, Roast Lion of Pork, Baked Apples, Apple Tart

Directed by Ulu Grosbard

Columbia TriStar 03/98 DVD/VHS Feature Film

PG-13 - language, thematic elements

No matter how hard we try, we can never insure the safety of our children. The world can be a dangerous place and in one minute everything that we love and cherish can be snatched away. Beth (Michele Pfeiffer in a strong performance) bids farewell to her husband Pat (Treat Williams) in Madison, Wisconsin, and takes her three small children with her to a high school class reunion in Chicago. Beth tells her oldest boy Vincent to look after Ben, his three-year-old brother, while she goes to register. When she returns just a few minutes later, the little boy is gone. Candy Bliss (Whoopi Goldberg), a detective, coordinates a massive and lengthy search for Ben but to no avail. Feelings of guilt and grief plunge Beth into a deep depression. Pat, who dreams of opening his own restaurant, tries to hold the family together but eventually his patience runs out.

The Deep End of the Ocean

is based on Jacquelyn Mitchard's 1996 novel. Director Ulu Grosbard's background in theatre enables him to underscore this drama's high-class treatment of the dynamics of grief and loss. Nine years later after the family moves to Chicago, they are reunited with their son, now named Sam (Ryan Merriman). They find him living nearby with his father George (John Kapelos), who was unaware that his now deceased wife had kidnapped the boy. The awkward and at times painful process of bringing Ben back into his birth family is difficult for all parties. Vincent (Jonathan Jackson), who is most in need of forgiveness, receives a surprising blessing in the film's most heart affecting scene as the two brothers play basketball.

The Deep End of the Ocean

makes it clear that sometimes healing can only take place when love means letting go.

RV: Comedy. Starring Robin Williams, Cheryl Hines, Joanna “JoJo”
Lavesque and Josh Hutcherson. Directed by Barry Sonnenfeld. (PG. 98 minutes. At
Bay Area theaters.)

At the head of this miserable family is Robin Williams as a sweet-natured
husband and father of two, with a good job as a business executive, but his
position isn’t secure. So he’s on shaky ground at work, and on shaky ground at
home as well, with a dissatisfied wife (Cheryl Hines), a relatively benign son
(Josh Hutcherson) and an absolutely vicious daughter (Joanna “JoJo” Lavesque),
who’d be the most evil character appearing in a film this week, were it not for
the release of “United 93.”

This cold description would suggest the setup for a farce, a modern
version of the kind of film that W.C. Fields made, satirizing marriage and
family and presenting an exaggerated and bleak vision of middle age. But that’s
not what’s going on here, and anyway, that would be odd casting for Williams.
At least with Fields you can imagine that, on some level, he deserves this
treatment, but with Williams shuffling through the movie like Giulietta Masina,
you know he doesn’t.

To get the essence of “RV,” just picture Williams beaming with
unconditional love. Then picture a teenage girl giving him the finger and
Williams’ expression changing ever so slightly to a love mixed with wistful
hope. “RV” presents the story of a family that goes from hating Dad to one
that’s willing to tolerate him — this is what it offers as a tenderhearted
journey. It’s not in any way a satire, and yet its vision of American family
life is as damning as anything the most bitter satirist could devise.

In “RV,” the family has planned a trip to Hawaii, but Dad (Williams) has
to go to Colorado on a business trip or else lose his job. Afraid to tell his
unloving family about this turn of events — they’ll just think he’s a loser
or criticize him for caring too much about business — he cashes in the
Hawaii vacation and rents a recreation vehicle, presenting a camping vacation
in Colorado as the ultimate in fun and togetherness. And so, for the next 45
minutes of screen time, the daughter does nothing but snipe at him about
missing out on Hawaii. She acts as if she had a right to Hawaii, or as if she
had paid for the tickets herself.

The rest of the movie consists of Williams’ crashing the RV into things
and getting abused. The family is without love and without the possibility of
redemption, laden with possessions and obligations, soulless and hostile to
outsiders. This the movie considers normal. Presented as freakish is another
family (headed by Jeff Daniels and Kristin Chenoweth) that’s generous, loving
and happy. The movie’s jaundiced perspective would have us regard these folks
as chirpy, stupid and silly. Yet even allowing for the condescending treatment,
they come across a lot better than the protagonists. So much for Hollywood
family values.

Speaking of family values, this film is rated PG by the MPAA, an
organization devoted to making sure that no child ever sees breasts until they
either pop up in the mirror on their own or present themselves in the backseat
of a car. But if I were running the MPAA, I’d put a restricted label on “RV.” I
wouldn’t want kids to think they could talk to their parents like that and get
away with it.

– Advisory: For crude humor and innuendo and a scene in which the
daughter sings the suggestive “Cherry Bomb,” seemingly without knowing that the
Joan Jett-Kim Fowley classic is 30 years old.

E-mail Mick LaSalle at mlasalle@sfchronicle.com.

Here they are: impoverished people living in the richest country in the entire world. In the halfway point of unreported riches where people continue in veritable mansions and shepherd luxury 4×4s, they have to burning in disconsolate caravan parks and drive beat-up pick-up trucks. If they’re lucky . . .

As an alternative of being objects of have compassion (in most other countries people mostly believe grim for the poor), America’s rednecks are ridiculed and scorned by society at philanthropic.

They are the butt of jokes in dilatory night stand-up comics’ sketches, the most inbred and grotesque examples are dug up to be paraded as freaks in shows such as Jerry Springer’s into the entertainment of TV audiences, and Hollywood (those unchanging folks living in the mansions and driving the humvees) represents them as hick villains and psycho killers in horror movies such as THE TEXAS COURSE SLOGAN EXTERMINATING, WRONG TURN, THE HILLS FATHER EYES and DELIVERANCE.

(Nowhere is this refinement be at odds more undisguised than in KALIFORNIA, the 1993 flick in which a yuppie couple gives a cross-country liberate to a redneck couple. The redneck male – memorably played by Brad Pitt – of course turns out to be a psycho iceman.)
You could remonstrate that maybe it is the rednecks’ own misconduct, but this is of course one of capitalism’s great lies: the idea that if you have failed at the capitalist game, then it is your own stupid fault and not the system’s. This ignores the fact that a highly industrialized sorority such as ours clearly has a authoritatively stratified border of labor – some of us hand down design Web sites for a living, but someone will always have to unclutter the toilets and remove the rubbish.
Also, what to make of those born into a particular caste – not to suggest those who inherited their riches while being thoroughly undeserving of them. Can you pronounce George W. Bush?
THE UNDERTOW is a man of those films with rednecks as either villains, psychos or idiots, preferably threatening 4×4 driving burg folk (as in this case). A group of friends go to the town of Full of years Mines for a canoe trip weekend. Along the conduct they consult on a neighbouring legend, namely that of the town keeping a deranged psycho killer named “the Boy” about to bump mad folks from out of village such as themselves.
As characters in this type of flicks usually do, they dismiss this story as being a mere urban legend. We in the audience know better – after all, we be sure this is a horror large screen. And we have seen the DVD cover which features a huge pic of the mad maniac: a seven-foot -figure wearing a cushion cover with torn slits to see through . . . something like the Elephant Man at a Klan gathering.
Soon to whatever manner they are confronted by the unfriendly locals, who in true DELIVERANCE style seem blissfully unaware of the financial benefits tourism by brings to an compass. Just why are the local rednecks so hostile and xenophobic? Well, it seems that the neighbourhood pub mayor has convinced them of this.
The mayor it seems had an affair with his own sister and the result was their deformed inbred child, “the Boy”. To camouflage up the scandal, he convinced the local yokels that, obviously, “the Boy” was in truth sent by God to take to task outsiders from out of community. And the locals believed him!
See what I position about these movies denigrating rednecks? They have to be natural morons to believe a widely-fetched fable groove on that . . .
This down-budget animus movie is distributed by Sub Rosa Remotest (you can visit them at their aptly named www.b-movie.com Web site). An advertisement that plays when one pops the disc into the DVD contender informs solitary that “Hollywood is a disorder, we (Sub Rosa) are the cure.”
May be, but representing the lower classes in a damaging spry doesn’t seem to be any of Hollywood’s ills to Sub Rosa’s mind as they are just as passionate to perpetuate any such societal stereotypes with THE UNDERTOW.
So, with the local townsfolk in on the stratagem, “the Boy” usually kills open out-of-towners when other means of intimidation - such as abusive cops spilling your beer along the road - fails. In whatever way, this time “the Boy” seems to have flipped sinker, and isn’t merely content with killing off strangers, but legitimate all over everybody - locals included.
Gore hounds strength be disappointed to know that THE UNDERTOW takes its time before the expected slaughter finally kicks off. Instead the silent picture takes its meanwhile establishing atmosphere and characters, and the leading (predictably gruesome) killing doesn’t take put one’s finger on until we’re well into the movie’s race together.
Instead there are some nice nature shots and to be honest I actually wouldn’t memory visiting the town of Old Mines (it really exists) one day. Seems quite pleasant, except for those homicidal hillbillies roaming relating to of course . . .
Over the setting of DELIVERANCE coupled with the vigour of TEXAS CHAIN AXIOM MASS MURDER with the cast of THE BLAIR WITCH PROJECT and you’ll know what to upon of THE UNDERTOW. Oh, and the film values of THE BLAIR SIBYL PROJECT as the film is without doubt shot cheaply on a handheld video camera.
In fact the movie seems sooner pointless except as a imbecilic body count, especially when insomuch as its ending (I don’t want to read anything away here though) which is unexpected, but steep. Audiences cause ultimately meagre to emotionally invest in as it seems that (as is often the case in slashed flicks) that the point of the exercise is merely to see who gets bumped off next . . .
The camera sadistically lingers on the bloodied victims of “the Boy” and makes one wonder about the type who in reality enjoys this sort of thing. (Thanks to budget limitations anyhow the gore looks thankfully quite fake.)
However, THE UNDERTOW can no more than be well-advised b wealthier than the up to date TEXAS TRAMMEL SAW MASSACRE remake (unseen by me as yet) since, obviously, there is something fair artless wrong respecting this sort of movie being made with a decent budget.
When it comes to sheer b-movie authenticity and grittiness notwithstanding how THE UNDERTOW will able beat out most of its rivals.
It be that as it may scores a zero for social activism . . .

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