Tag Archives: James Remar

David S. Goyer’s Blade: Trinity

I think that Patton Oswalt’s stories about Wesley Snipes’s hilarious behaviour on the set of Blade: Trinity are more entertaining than the actual resulting film, to be honest. Having said that, I also don’t think it’s as terrible as its reputation. Worst of the trilogy? For sure. Silly as hell? Definitely, but it’s not entirely terrible. Blade has apparently relocated his operation to Vancouver, because regardless of where this is actually supposed to be set, I’ve never seen my city so thinly disguised as I have here, one wonders why they bothered at all. So why is it any good? Well, Ryan Reynolds for one in arguably his first turn as Deadpool. As snarky vampire slayer Hannibal King, Reynolds has stated on record that he was basically just playing Wade Wilson, and he’s a lot of fun, a torrential fountain of creative insults (“You cock juggling thundercunt!”) and sassy attitude. Jessica Biel is less memorable as the daughter of crusty weapons guru Whistler (Kris Kristofferson shows up again briefly). The three of them begrudgingly team up to do battle with the king of all vampires, Dracula himself (Dominic Purcell), but spend most of their time in skirmishes with nasty vampiress Danica Talos (Parker Posey), her minion brother (Callum Keith Rennie) and their hired muscle, played by wrestler Triple-H for fucks sake. Posey actually gives the best performance of the film, her moody brat villainess is an underrated Blade antagonist and she almost steals the movie, with cameos from Eric Bogosian as a talk show host and James Remar as a bumbling, overzealous FBI Agent. This is for sure a WTF entry in comparison to two excellent predecessors. I mean, you have Triple H setting vampire Pomeranians on Blade & Co. and more shattered plate glass windows than the entire Die Hard franchise combined, they’ve thrown a bunch of elements at the wall hoping they’ll stick without any real formula or reason, so a lot of it is misplaced and dumb, but I had fun here and there, particularly when Reynolds and Posey were around to chew scenery. Snipes is pretty much a walking two by four for most of it, but you can tell he’s not having much fun and isn’t firing up the dark charisma he brought to the first two. Rumours about him on set include locking himself in his trailer for hours and hotboxing it, threatening poor David S. Goyer and refusing to communicate with him using anything other than post-it notes and fiercely disliking Reynolds. Whether it’s all true or not who knows, but it’s pretty fuckin’ funny and I hope we get to see a behind the scenes documentary about these shenanigans one day called Blade 4: Snipes Rising.

-Nate Hill

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David S. Goyer’s The Unborn

There’s a lot of ideas running around in David S. Goyer’s The Unborn, ideas that a terrific cast do their best with but ultimately this was one big WTF of a letdown, a boring waste of time that deserved better execution than it got. It’s essentially another Exorcist retread, given a twist, with Odette Yustman (whatever happened to her? She was sort of like Megan Fox Lite) playing a girl who is tormented by something called a Dybbuk, some sort of mythological Jewish entity but also just a fancy way of saying demon. It has something to do with her unborn twin who never made it past utero, her institutionalized mother (Carla Cugino, wasted in a heavily cut role) as well as history dating back to Joseph ‘Angel of Death’ Mengele, the infamous Nazi surgeon who had an obsession with twins, a theme that also plays on here. This thing haunts and eventually possesses her, until she finds help from two priests played by Gary Oldman and Idris Elba, in roles beneath their talent. There’s one nicely written scene where she and her boyfriend (Cam Gigandet, who can’t act to save his life) ponder the universe and all its terrors while in bed that would have been better brought to life by different actors. Various scenes show her interaction with her loving father (James Remar), but they’re underdeveloped and feel edited. Mostly it’s just her running from freaky scuttling apparitions, loose plot threads hanging about like wires in an abandoned warehouse and just.. bleh. There’s definitely something there in terms of brainstorming script ideas, but they screwed it up big time by making a haphazard, boring, generically glossy PG-13 dud instead of putting some actual style, personality and genuinely frightening elements in. Big ol’ missed opportunity. It’s a shame, because there’s some neat, spooky special effects thrown at the wall here that deserve a better film, and I’d expect better from Goyer too. Oh well.

-Nate Hill

Quentin Tarantino’s Django Unchained

Quentin Tarantino’s Django Unchained really and truly feels like the old school exploitation epics that he was going for in everything from style, music, dialogue and especially pacing. Movies were longer back then in more ways than just length, which sounds odd so I’ll try and explain: Django has a great big laconic violent narrative that takes its time like a talkative houseguest and lingers for a while, until it seemingly ends. Then after that ending, there’s like another forty minutes of movie after, as if somehow with this one we discovered that staying past the credits magically extends the film into further, hidden acts. Seems crazy now but that’s the way some movies were back then. People have said that that feels lopsided and is a downfall for Django, but I disagree and think it gets a lot of it’s charm from that structural padding, no doubt purposeful on QT’s part. It’s also some of the most colourful, flat out ballistic and fun pieces he’s ever done. Post Kill Bill, he really delved into the past for some specific genre stabs at various key time periods, in some cases even rewriting history to meet his pulpy, shock ‘n awe oeuvre. Unchained tells the story of intense self freed slave Django (Jamie Foxx), jovially verbose bounty hunter Dr. King Schultz (Christoph Waltz, the soul of the picture), bratty, psychopathic plantation baron Calvin Candie (Leonardo DiCaprio refreshingly cast against type), and a whole sweaty myriad of other cowboys, slaves, businessman and opportunists in a very vivid Old West. Django and King aim to free his imprisoned wife Broomhilda (Kerry Washington) from Candieland, a hellish property ruled over by traitorous head house slave Steven (cantankerous Samuel L. Jackson) and hordes of vicious, tumbleweed thugs. To say violence ensues is a big old understatement; the blood flows like Niagara here, the heads get shot off in double digit count and bullets tear through people like they’ve got barbed wire on them. Hyper stylized, yes, but never a case of style over substance, as QT’s scripts always see to. The friendship between King and Django is allowed to percolate like their tin campfire coffee pot long before any serious chaos ensues, these two make a stalwart pair. DiCaprio is a grinning antagonist whose heinous personality is obvious in Waltz’s gradual revulsion, a setup ripe with gleeful, knee slapping suspense. Joining them is an all star supporting cast including James Remar in sly dual roles, James Russo, Zoe Bell, Miriam F. Glover, Russ Tamblyn, Amber Tamblyn, M.C. Gainey, Walton Goggins, Laura Cayouette, Dennis Christopher, Dana Gourrier, Franco Nero, Don Stroud, Bruce Dern, Michael Bowen, Robert Carradine, Jonah Hill, Lee Horsley, Tom Savini, James Parks, QT himself with a horrendous Aussie accent, a Michael Parks cameo and Don Johnson as a hilarious plantation pimp called Big Daddy. The soundtrack samples everything from Rick Ross to Morricone to Johnny Cash to amp up the proceedings, and cinematography traverses rough hewn deserts, snowy peaks and buzzing bayous to provide sharp, succinct atmosphere for this extreme yarn to play out in. QT’s career comes in two halves for me: The hard boiled, present day set gangster flicks that segued into Kill Bill, still set in our times. For the second half he’s gone historical and turned up the dial on violence, characterization, action and colour, and Django can arguably be called the showcase picture in latter day Tarantino. It’s big, bold, audacious,

unapologetic and I love every second of it.

-Nate Hill

B Movie Glory: Arena

Arena is a rip snorting, bloody balls out sleaze-fest of a flick, admittedly a straight up terrible piece, but too off the wall and fucking out of its head to not deserve a look. It’s one of those high concept, low ethics extreme action things that you’d see Stallone or Schwarzenegger headlining in the 80’s (perhaps Ray Liotta or Chris Lambert on a lower budget) except here we get the ever wooden Kellan Lutz, a dude with adequate physical presence but the acting skills of a nail gun, which coincidentally is legit a thing used in a fight scene here. Lutz plays an ex-military tough guy who is kidnaped by raving lunatic computer tycoon Samuel L. Jackson into an elite, extremely illegal underground fighting syndicate, where players literally brawl to the death using anything they can get their hands on. If one guy wins ten fights (I think it’s ten), they win their freedom, or so Jackson eerily assures them with that evil, unnerving smirk. I admire the film for going all out with the fight sequences, this is truly a gruesome, fucked up piece of ultraviolet postmodern grindhouse garbage with the kind of carnage that would make Hobo With A Shotgun raise its whiskey glass and give the slow clap, especially in a montage sequence that showcases different themed fights in Virtual Reality space, the construction site one garnering the most cringes with maximum bodily harm. Jackson is truly in his final form here, he’s so far into the stratosphere of scenery chewing that you feel like running and hiding in another room to take a break from his bellowing intensity, all that’s missing is a literal moustache to twirl. Lutz forms a bond with a vixen (Katia Winter) who’s placed in his way by Sam to do just that, but her allegiance remains a mystery til later on, as does the involvement of a mysterious dude (James Remar) from his past. He also clashes with Jackson’s prized gladiator, played with sneering, rock voiced evil by Johnny Messner, who needs better roles. This flick screams by at a bulldozer’s pace and leaves you feeling like you got hit by one, it’s a thorough piece of shit if I’m being honest, but it sure kills ninety restless minutes if you’re looking for something silly to raise hell, never mind pulses.

-Nate Hill

B Movie Glory: Guardian

Guardian falls squarely into the ‘ancient relic B flick’, a well worn path in which some obscure archaeological dig unearths a crazy evil that plagues everyone and causes a monumental ruckus, or in this one’s case, a laid back low budget ruckus. The incident here happened during the Gulf war, in which special forces badass Mario Van Peebles witnessed something escape a tomb, something that’s now reared it’s head years later in inner city LA, and he’s now a detective who has to deal with it, assisted by his partner (James Remar). The beauty of making your antagonist a shapeless, invisible identity that takes over human hosts and jumps from person to person is that special effects aren’t even required and you can stay within budget restrictions (I imagine that was on Gregory Hoblit’s mind for Fallen, and he was able to save a few bucks for the wicked cast he scored) which in this film’s case is a concern that was probably paramount, this is about as scantly funded as they get. It’s scrappy, atmospheric and works well enough for something like this. Remar is underused for the first half as the classic wise-ass sidekick, until the demon jumps into him and we get to see some of that classic Remar menace take the controls from Peebles’s moody cop, he’s a guy I never saw the point in having as your leading man, the necessary amount of charisma just isn’t there. This actually makes a great Remar/Peebles double feature with another obscure horror called Blowback, in which cop Mario is hunting down crazed serial killer James. I’ll get to that one eventually. Oh yeah, Ice T has a small role as a gangbanger here too, almost forgot about him.

-Nate Hill

B Movie Glory: Gun

Gun is one of the countless disposable B grade flicks that 50 Cent insists on starring in, for some reason. I mean, the guy got rich, he didn’t die trying, he’s set up for a few lifetimes and he just won’t quit showing up in direct to DVD genre stuff, it’s amusingly weird and I’d love to one day ask him why. Maybe he just really enjoys acting, in which case I say go for it, but maybe with an agent who’s a bit choosier at the script roulette table. This one also stars Val Kilmer, a similarly afflicted actor who’s recently been slumming it, but the two aren’t half bad here as a powerful gun runner (fiddy) and his old prison buddy (Vally) who’s looking for a job. What the big guy doesn’t know is that Kilmer is has actually been tagged by the Feds as an informant, which turns the situation into a powder keg of betrayal and secrets that could get lit any minute. The real scene stealer here is James Remar as a dogged vice detective who has been consumed by the task of taking them both down, he puts actual grit and feeling into the role and seems to be a guest star from a way better film. Others include beauty queen Annalynne McCord as a dangerous rival arms dealer, a quick cameo from Danny Trejo playing his usual brand of aggressive thug, and strangely enough John Larroquette as well, who I swear I haven’t seen in anything since Richie Rich back in the 90’s. You could do worse for this kind of fare, but it’s nothing special.

-Nate Hill

B Movie Glory: American Meltdown

If American Meltdown had a bigger budget, better director and wasn’t cursed with the stigma of being a telefilm, it could have been something cool, because as far as script and cast go, it’s got something. In terms of terrorist flicks it also does something that hasn’t really been explored and throws a curveball twist that might make some Americans squirm uncomfortably in their seats (denial is an ugly bitch). Too bad it got the cheap treatment though, aesthetically speaking it looks like a discarded 24 season test pilot and doesn’t have the dazzle dazzle to support its big ideas. When a ruthless foreign extremist (The Mummy’s Arnold Vosloo) holds a nuclear power plant hostage and threatens to cause chaos, FBI Agents Bruce Greenwood and Leslie Hope race against the clock to prevent the kind of impending doom only TV movies can supply, while a military tactical unit led by character actor James Remar menacingly waits on standby. The whole hijack is more complicated that it seems though and Vosloo’s antagonist proves to have more up his sleeve than a simplistic radical agenda, so the film does attempt to stand out from the crowd. But overall it’s lazily edited, haphazard trash, the kind of thing that will always be dumped onto cable. Cool cast though.

-Nate Hill