PC/Mac
Highway One Media Entertainment
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The length to which Elvis Presley has been immortalized reached new |
Graceland. E.P.E, for Elvis Presley Enterprises, means that this double CD-ROM is more
of a disappointingly tasteful one-sided history lesson than it is a fun-lovin’
freakshow. There are basically two options for perusing the King’s kastle: One is to
take the guided tour, which is the standard vanilla $15 deal you can get at the
mansion; or you can explore the grounds by yourself. This latter option is a little more
interesting as it allows you to access schmaltzy stories from the likes of Pat Boone,
back-up singer Kathy Westmoreland, or, my favorite, karate master Kang Rhee. It also
has gawkier items for stumbling upon, such as a recipe box complete with
directions for making such kingly staples as peanut butter and banana sandwiches as well as
cheeseburgers. (Who the hell needs a recipe for cheeseburgers?) Of course, Virtual
Graceland suffers from the limitations of the platform. The real Graceland, as
underwhelming as it is, is best experienced firsthand. A computer monitor can’t do justice
to the tack factor of actually standing in the presence of the green
shag-carpeted jungle room. There is also way too much cumbersome and annoying repetition
from disk to disk, and navigating from room to room is sometimes tricky. But this
little toy is not without its charming moments. The Graceland adventure begins right
outside the manor’s front doorstep; from there, you can pan around a 360-degree view
of the grounds, and do so rather rapidly. If you’ve ever wanted to get dizzy and
throw up on the King’s front lawn, this could be your best chance.
— Michael Bertin
The People vs. Larry Flynt
D: Milos Forman(1996); with
Woody Harrelson, Courtney Love, Edward Norton
If I never see either Courtney Love or Madonna in a feature film again,
I’ll die a happy man. The two divas feuded over proper recognition at the 1996 awards
shows, only to both be rightfully snubbed at this year’s Academy Awards. The best
thing I can say about Love’s performance in The People vs. Larry Flynt is
that she dies in the end. (The same goes for Madonna’s Evita.) In fact, if it
weren’t for Love and her hideously out-of-place antics, we probably would have seen
this biopic about Hustler magazine founder Flynt take a place of honor at
the Oscars (the picture ended up getting two nominations). Regardless, home video is a
perfect place to rediscover its charms, as the film proves to be a place of
redemption not only for its maligned title character, but also for its stars, whose recent
films (Harrelson in Money Train and Norton in Primal Fear) have been
about as exciting as pulling weeds. Creating an honest portrait of one of America’s
most hated individuals is no small feat, but Flynt manages it with ease.
Highly recommended, even if you do have to sit through Love’s 30 hair color
changes.
— Christopher Null
Bang the Drum Slowly
D: John Hancock (1973); with
Michael Moriarty, Robert DeNiro, Vincent Gardenia, Danny Aiello
One of a handful of acclaimed baseball movies, Bang the Drum Slowly revolves around a season in the life of two ballplayers for the fictional New York
Mammoths: Henry Wiggen, life insurance salesman, contract holdout, and starting
southpaw; and his friend and roommate Henry Pearson, a “plumb dumb” country boy
and back-up catcher who has just learned he is dying of cancer. A young DeNiro gives a
strong performance as Pearson, a man whose good humor and Southern humility cannot
hide his increasing disorientation and inability to know what to make of his fate.
(Although with a swing like that, it’s no wonder he spent years riding the pine.)
Vincent Gardenia adds a good turn as the team’s sonofabitch-with-a-good-heart skipper;
Moriarty’s selfless Wiggen is played competently but is, how shall I say it,
undernuanced. Mark Harris’ screenplay, while it does take a few turns toward cornball, is
admirable both in its feel for language and its general sense of restraint. The themes
faced here — of fraternity and mortality — are rich ones, but Moriarty’s flat
performance and an abrupt ending lessen the impact of Bang the Drum Slowly, which
glimpses, but fails to fully realize, our collective bewilderment when faced with
untimely death.
— Jay Hardwig
The Fury
D: Brian De Palma (1978): with
Kirk Douglas, John Cassavettes,
Amy Irving, Andrew Stevens
Mission: Impossible was a typical big-budget Brian De Palma film —
an impersonal, overfamiliar scenario enlivened by a few snazzy camera
flourishes. Much more effort and imagination went into his post-Carrie effort The
Fury, a mind-boggling action/horror/suspense hybrid about star-crossed teens with
lethal psychic powers. When it was originally released, critics and audiences alike
were appalled and entranced by the campy ultraviolence, so new to mainstream
movies of the day. Its formula has since developed into an entire genre (see
Reanimator, the Evil Dead movies, Dead Alive, etc.) as every shot seems
calculated to confound your expectations. The director toys with obligatory horror-flick
misogyny, and counters it with a hilarious attack on movie machismo. The Fury‘s
“hero,” played to buffoonish perfection by Kirk Douglas, is an aging superspy who’s
losing his sex appeal but hanging on to his megalomaniacal bloodlust. His
hyperchauvinism rubs off on his mutant son, who becomes increasingly horny and psychotic as
his telekinetic powers develop. In true De Palma mode the movie twists The Searchers,
among other fims, with Douglas struggling to rescue his son from evil government
agents. The mind-boggling ending seems as if it might have been swiped from
Zabriskie Point, but it’ll still haunt your dreams for weeks.
— Chris Baker
This article appears in June 6 • 1997 and June 6 • 1997 (Cover).