Trips - Friday Video Distractions with Mike Norton

 

 

    Supernatural horror thriller The Empty Man (2020, currently on HBO/HBO Max) can be seen in part as a casualty of COVID-19, but it's more a case of the studio (Fox) losing faith following early test screenings where it was ill-received. Filmed in late 2017, it sat around for a few years, not formally edited into a final cut as far as the director was concerned, before finally being rushed into formal theatrical release in October 2020, when most theaters were still closed. Why the sudden rush? It was filmed primarily in South Africa (though aside from the opening sections, which are supposed to be in Bhutan, the film's set in Missouri), and someone at the studio realized they'd almost hit a release deadline after which they wouldn't receive the South African tax rebate they'd become increasingly

concerned about. A strong dash of yet more red ink in the ledger three years into fiscal failure would not go down well.
     An adaptation of a 2014 comic book series created by writer Cullen Bunn and artist Vanesa R. Del Rey, such substantial changes were made to the story and setting that it seems a shame they didn't rename it -- though both lean on the name, and eventually share an underpinning. It would have been more interesting had they decided on a truer, cleaner adaptation. Specifically, the source comics treat the behaviors as a national pandemic of violent action, whereas the film has it localized and officials treating it as a cult growing out of an urban legend, complete with a simple (and simple-minded) summoning ritual. The source comics (a 6-part 2014 series that introduces it, and an 8-part one from 2018 that builds on it) are far more interesting.

     It's an uneven film, and one that the studio folks simply were at a loss as to how to sell. In part, it's because it opens in 1995 with four hikers in a remote portion of Bhutan, spending what feels to be an appreciable amount of time on their story only to abruptly jump 23 years and around the globe, to 2018 and Missouri, where we're dropped down into a group of new-to-us characters with a general sense of "why?' for the audience.
     It's one of those films that was a financial loss for the studio, and mostly received negative reviews, but has reportedly gained some traction since it's been viewable at home.
     Arriving on HBO and HBO Max this Saturday is a slightly odd creative crossover, as comedian Tig Notaro: Drawn premiers.

     I generally enjoy Tig's observations and work, though based on this trailer I think it'll work better if I just listen to it while looking at something else. The animation seems wholly unnecessary, managing to make all of the material feel dumbed down. A heavy-handed, visual laugh track I'm finding it difficult to believe anyone will find enhancing, much less endearing. But, who knows? Maybe it's put to better use elsewhere in the special, as she heads toward more personal topics, where she tends to do much better. So far I'm thinking they didn't want to waste any of the good material in the trailer, and so went for the lowest-hanging fruit. The extended lockdown year has been a trial for all of us, and we've likely all indulged ideas we wouldn't have under better circumstances. I'm not going to damn someone for trying this sort of distanced collaboration.
     Shifting gears to a more astounding reality, I'm looking forward to next week (Wednesday, July 28th) when Netflix will finally starts offering the 2019 nature documentary by Louie Schwartzberg: Fantastic Fungi (1h 20m)

     I know it had been shopped around a couple years ago, at which point Netflix low-balled their offer, so the film went other routes for distribution, exhibitions and paid streaming, and is still available to rent or buy through Amazon. Whether Netflix offered a bit more than before, or it's simply late enough in the situation that the Netflix money is a capper -- I guess none of that makes any difference to us.
     I've been somewhat familiar with the mycelium network, a sort of nature's Internet, and the often bizarre aspects of various fungi. I'm looking forward to this concentration of focus, hopeful it'll spark a renewed interest.
     Fishing around for more B-level sci-fi I might have seen on tv on Saturdays as a kid, saw me coming across Journey To The Center of Time (1967).
     It had an odd stripe of familiarity to me, yet as I watched it I realized I hadn't seen it before. This is because it it's a somewhat altered remake of a 1964 film The Time Travelers (AKA The Time Trap), a film also credited as being the inspiration for the tv series Time Tunnel.
     For purposes of ease of access I found a somewhat iffy print of it on YouTube, though I came across and watched a much better copy on Paramount+.

     Mild bonus: The first alien they meet is a heavily-painted Lyle Waggoner. That seemed to be his year for body-painted sci-fi, as he was a sickly shade of green here, while in an episode of Lost In Space that same year he was an android in silver paint. At least that was also the year he got started as part of The Carol Burnett Show.

     Another "I know the face..." actor in the film is character actor Scott Brady, whose career had seen him play both heavies and rugged heroes, but who by this point had aged into the role of tight-fisted financier Stanton., who with the recent death of his father has just come into control of the family money and is anxious to cut funding to anything that's not going to make him more money.  Also possibly spotted as familiar faces are character actors Anthony Eisley and Abraham Sofaer, and, perhaps, child/young adult starlet Gigi Perreau.
     Honestly, though, there's really little reason to recommend the film or spending roughly 77 minutes watching it beyond the basic time travel genre exercise and those potentially familiar-from-elsewhere faces. I made the questionable decision to watch it, poke around for some details, and so it became a part of this week's piece. You're not obliged to make the same mistakes I have.
     Tell you what -- let's go for something a few minutes shorter that's much more entertaining -- and delivered in a much cleaner print.
    Here, from early February 1973, the made for tv supernatural film Horror At 37,000 Feet. Prominent faces - Chuck Connors, William Shatner, Buddy Ebsen, Roy Thinnes, Russell Johnson, and Paul Winfield among them - on a London to New York flight with vengeful spirits aboard, less than happy at the forced relocation of the druidic altar they're attached to. It's goofy at times, and one of things to commend it is that the actors do a creditable job of playing it straight, trying to sell it. I found it to be a fun revisit - I remember seeing it when it first aired - right from the start, as we begin to meet the various characters at Heathrow Airport just before the flight. First horror to be spotted may be Chuck Connors' haircut. Keep that cap on, Captain!
     I'd love to get some first-time reactions, especially from people who weren't even born when this first aired. From the social and cultural to the technological I quickly realized how much this would have to be alien to anyone who's spent more years in the 21st century than the 20th.
     Here it is, at a crisp, pressurized 73 minutes. Take bets on who the next victim will be.

     I'd only be tempting more evil spirits if I lacked the sense to end this week with that.
     Once again, enjoy your weekend, and try to join me next Friday as we close out July 2021 and begin to look into August. Take care. - Mike