'80s Flashback: Trouble in Little China and Vampires in Santa Carla

Kurt Russell as Jack Burton.

Big Trouble in Little China (1986). This fourth collaboration between Kurt Russell and director John Carpenter is a mildly diverting martial arts fantasy--which has nevertheless attracted a strong cult following. 

Russell stars as Jack Burton, a tough-talking truck driver trying to collect a gambling debt from pal Wang Chi (Dennis Dun). When Wang's fiancée Miao Yin is kidnapped soon after arriving in San Francisco, Jack agrees to help Wang rescue her. It turns out that the green-eyed Miao Yin has been abducted by Lo Pan, a powerful ancient sorcerer. He wants to "marry" the girl so he can regain earthy form and rule the world.

Kim Cattrall as Gracie Law.

Big Trouble in Little China consists mostly of colorful fight scenes and chases as Russell quips one-liners and banters playfully with Kim Cantrell, who plays a crusading lawyer. It's all very tongue-in-cheek and boasts an amusing conceit: Wang is the real hero and Jack is the sidekick.

And yet, despite its good intentions, the film comes across as "B" movie fodder, especially compared to Russell and Carpenter's previous pairings Escape from New York (1981) and The Thing (1982). Perhaps, part of the problem is that Carpenter was the driving force behind those films whereas Big Trouble in Little China was a big studio film already in development before Carpenter came aboard.

There are worse ways to spend 99 minutes. However, if you want to see a Kurt Russell-John Carpenter movie, you're better off watching Escape from New York, The Thing--or even Elvis.

The Lost Boys (1987). As the Emerson family drives past the "Welcome to Santa Carla" sign, a spray-painted message on the backside adds: "Murder capital of the world." An ominous greeting for new residents, no doubt!

Corey Haims and Jason Patric.

Recently divorced, Lucy Emerson has relocated to the coastal community to move in with her elderly father. It will be a new start for Lucy and her teenage sons: the introspective Michael (Jason Patric) and his younger outgoing brother Sam (Corey Haim). 

During a nighttime concert on the crowded, neon-lit boardwalk, Michael makes a connection with an attractive teenage girl named Star (Jami Gertz). She is somehow affiliated with a gang of delinquents led by the charismatic David (Keifer Sutherland). What Michael doesn't know--but soon finds out--is that David and his cronies are vampires!

The Lost Boys is one of the best teen horror films of the 1980s, a smartly-written drama with several strong performances, stylish cinematography, and a sly sense of humor. The film's title is a tip-off that it's a play on James M. Barrie's Peter Pan--only these Lost Boys have to drink the blood of the living to avoid growing up. Like Peter Pan's "gang," these youths need a mother and it turns out that their target is Lucy Emerson (a delightful Dianne Wiest).

A softly menacing Sutherland.

The weak link in the cast is Corey Haim. Certainly, Haim got a lot of mileage out of his likably goofy on-screen persona. It works well enough in The Lost Boys, but it still feels like Haim is trying to too hard. There's a "look at me" quality to his acting that conflicts with the polished performances of his co-stars. Jason Patric commands attention with his brooding attitude while Sutherland can generate chills simply by uttering: "Michael."

The Lost Boys clicked with audiences in 1987, earning almost as much as bigger productions such as Star Trek IV: The Voyage Home. Studio heads flirted with a sequel to be called The Lost Girls. In the end, two low-budget belated sequels--Lost Boys: The Tribe (2008) and Lost Boys: The Thirst (2010)--were released straight to video. Corey Feldman (not Haim) revived his role as a vampire hunter from the original.

Snack-sized Reviews: "Eye of the Needle" and "Used Cars"

Eye of the Needle (1981). I'm not sure why this well-made suspense picture isn't better known. In many ways, it reminds me of The Day of the Jackal (although it's not quite in that class).

Donald Sutherland stars as Henry Faber, a German spy operating in Great Britain during World War II. Faber learns that an airfield in East Anglia is an elaborate deception to fool the Germans into thinking that an Allied invasion is targeted at a location other than Normandy. For security purposes, Faber needs to personally deliver this vital information to Hitler. However, British Intelligence is closing in around him and he must survive long enough to rendezvous with a U-boat off the coast of Storm Island.

He washes ashore on the isolated island during a raging storm and is found by the Rose family. Lucy (Kate Nelligan) and her husband David, who is mostly confined to a wheelchair, run a sheep farm. David, who once flew airplanes for the RAF, is a bitter man who recoils from the touch of his attractive wife. While David distrusts Faber, Lucy finds herself attracted to the stranger--and the feeling is mutual.

Based on Ken Follett's novel, the first half of Eye of the Needle is a tightly paced thriller in which the ruthless Faber narrowly avoids escape on multiple occasions, leaving innocent victims in his path. The plot takes an intriguing turn when it shifts focus to the relationship between Faber and Lucy. Faber's feelings toward Lucy remain effectively ambiguous all the way through to the climax. Are his actions spurred by sexual gratification alone? Are they driven by years of loneliness created by living a lie? Or has he developed some kind of emotional attachment toward her (I don't think it's love)?

The Isle of Mull.

Donald Sutherland gives one of his best performances and Kate Nelligan, one of my favorite actresses of the 1980s, holds her own. The film also gets a huge boost from Miklos Rosza's lovely score (one of his last) and the stunning scenery. The ficticious Storm Island is "played" by the Isle of Mull. If those haunting seascapes look familiar, then you're probably a fan of Powell and Pressberger's I Know Where I'm Going (1945).

Used Cars (1980). What do Forrest Gump, Snake Plissken, and Laverne & Shirley have in common? If you answered the rowdy cult classic Used Cars, you'd be correct. It was the second film directed by Robert Zemeckis, starred Kurt Russell, and featured Lenny & Squiggy (Michael McKean and David L. Lander) in supporting roles. 

Wanna buy a car from this guy?

Russell plays Rudy Russo, an ultra ambitious used car salesman trying to save $60,000 so he can buy the nomination for a State Senate seat. Rudy will do anything to sell a car! In the hilarious opening montage, we see him rolling back an odometer, fastening a loose bumper with a wad of bubble gum, repairing a tire with "Fix Flat," and spraying "new car scent" into old cars. It's no surprise that the New Deal Car Lot is on probation for consumer fraud. Still, Rudy may be more ethical than Roy L. Fuchs (Jack Warden), who owns the competing Auto Emporium across the street.

Roy has paid off a local politician to learn that a new highway will be coming right through his lot. So, he hatches a scheme to take over the New Deal Car Lot, which, by the way, is owned by his nice-guy twin brother (Warden again, of course). And if it involves causing his brother to have a heart attack, well, that's just business.

Jack Warden as the villain.

If you're looking for subtle high-brow comedy, then avoid Used Cars like one of those car deals that sounds too good to be true. However, if you admire a movie that will do almost anything for a laugh, then you'll probably enjoy this broad farce. For example, when you see a pretty model's dress caught in the trunk of a car during a live commercial, you can guess what's going to happen to that dress. And, yes, that's just what happens. And, while it's a little rude, it is funny.

Kurt Russell and Jack Warden attack their roles with relish and seem to be having a grand time. Still, Gerrit Graham almost steals the film as Russell's fellow huckster and superstitious friend ("Red car is bad luck and trouble"). He and Toby the Beagle have the best scene in Used Cars. Click here to watch it.

James Stewart Leads a Fools' Parade

James Stewart behind "bars" in Fools' Parade.

James Stewart's career in the 1960s and 1970s consisted largely of paternal roles, Westerns, and occasional supporting parts. There were some notable exceptions in the 1960s, specifically The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance (1962) and The Flight of the Phoenix (1965). His final starring role in a theatrical film was in Fools' Parade (1971) and, though it pales next to his classics, it's a respectable way to close out an incredible career as a leading man.

Set in West Virginia in 1935, the film focuses on three men released from the Glory State Penitentiary. Mattie Appleyard, the trio's leader, spent 40 years in prison for killing three men (in self defense as we later learn). Mattie's hard labor as an inmate has earned him $25,000, which he and his friends plan to use to open a general store. Unfortunately, a local banker (who has embezzled Mattie's money) and an abusive prison guard plan to kill the ex-cons.

The film was later retitled, presumably
to make it sound more exciting.

Director Andrew McLaglen worked frequently in the 1960s with Stewart (Shenandoah, The Rare Breed, Bandolero!) and John Wayne (Hellfighters, McLintok!). Considering his propensity to specialize in Westerns and action films, he seems like an odd choice for Fools' Parade, which is essentially a character study of a "family" comprised of the three ex-cons. However, he quietly lets his actors carry the film, a smart decision considering they are its biggest asset. McLaglen also nicely captures the time period, his camera lingering on homeless men as the train speeds through the gray West Virginia mountains.

James Stewart is in fine form as the rational leader of the group. Kurt Russell, who was still starring in Disney comedies, gives a likable performance as the youngest and most naive of the ex-cons. However, acting honors go to Strother Martin, who may even be better here than he was in his most famous role as the Captain in Cool Hand Luke (1967). His character has survived prison by thinking about the store they plan to open--to the point that he carries around a book to jot down notes about future inventory (e.g., if a bottle of bourbon was tasty, he notes the brand).

A lobby card showing Anne Baxter, Russell, Martin, and Stewart.

Unfortunately, the film's villains are no more than caricatures not worthy of our protagonists. Martin's Cool Hand Luke co-star George Kennedy overplays his nasty prison guard as a religious zealot. Ditto for David Huddleston as the greedy banker. (William Windom and Anne Baxter, though, bolster the proceedings in their brief scenes.)

As I was watching Fools' Parade, I couldn't help but think about the challenges of making a film set in the Great Depression for 1971 movie-goers. For example, there's no way that Mattie could have made $25,000 during his 40 years of hard labor. To put it in perspective, $25,000 in 1935 equates to over $400,000 today. It's more likely that Mattie's savings would have been much less. So, I can see the dilemma faced by the script writers. Would the audiences of 1971 have accepted the villains murdering the convicts for an a more realistic amount, as low as maybe $8,000?

Fools' Parade will never be listed among James Stewart's best films. Yet, it's definitely worth a look so you can relish one last star turn from Stewart, plus Strother Martin in a signature role, and Kurt Russell showing the appeal that would make him a reliable star that's still making films today.

An Interview with Michael McGreevey: The Actor-Writer Discusses Riverboat, Disney, the Fame TV Series, and The Waltons

Michael McGreevy and Sally Field in The Way West.

Michael McGreevey made his film debut at age of 7 in the 1958 Jane Powell musical The Girl Most Likely. He would soon become one of the most in-demand child actors of the 1960s. He appeared as a regular on the TV series Riverboat (1959-60) and starred in several multi-part episodes of Walt Disney's Wonderful World of Color. He also guest-starred in classic TV series such as Route 66, Naked City, and Bonanza. On the big screen, he made films like The Way West (1967) with Kirk Douglas, Richard Widmark, and Robert Mitchum. Michael also continued to work for Disney, playing Kurt Russell's best friend in the three Dexter Riley movies (e.g., The Computer Wore Tennis Shoes). In the 1970s, he moved behind the camera and became a successful writer for TV series such as The Waltons, Fame, and Quincey, M.E. Michael McGreevey recently appeared at the Williamsburg Film Festival and kindly agreed to an interview.

Café: You were around 11 when you starred in Riverboat. In addition to stars Darren McGavin and Burt Reynolds, it featured a huge number of then-current and future stars. Are there any that you remember fondly?

As Chip Kessler in Riverboat.

Michael McGreevey:  That's the show I met Doug McClure on. It was one of the first things Doug ever did. He was a great guy and became a lifelong friend. Of course, he went on to do The Virginian. Mary Tyler Moore was on the show. I remember her because she was really cute (laughs) and very nice to me. There was Suzanne Pleshette, who went on to do a ton of stuff. Then, there were people on the show that I became very close to: Jack Lambert, who was a great character actor and a regular; John Mitchum, Robert Mitchum's brother; and, of course, Darren (McGavin) and Burt (Reynolds).

Café:  I've read where Darren McGavin and Burt Reynolds didn't get along. Is that true?

MM:  Oh, yeah. They were just two very different personalities. I think that Burt was insecure. It was his first job in Hollywood and Darren was a very polished actor. It was Darren's show really--he was Captain Holden. I think Burt was a little jealous of Darren and they clashed quite a bit. What finally happened was that Burt left the show. But I loved them both. Darren was very much a father figure for me and Burt was like a big brother. He had been a football player at Florida State and I was impressed with that because I was into football. The first football I ever got--in fact, I've still got it--he got me. We used to play catch. I still see Burt every once in awhile. He still says: "Don't tell people you were only 11 years old when we were on Riverboat."

Café: How did you get cast in Texas John Slaughter, your first episode of Walt Disney's Wonderful World of Color?

MM:   I had done a small part in a thing called Toby Tyler, which was just a one-day shoot. My agent had said: "It's only one day, but you should do it because you might get in over at Disney and become one of the Disney kids." I thought, OK, I'll do it. After that, they called and I did the Texas John Slaughter episode. Then, I did Sammy, the Way-Out Seal, which was a big deal. I remember going for several interviews with director Norman Tokar. Bill Mumy and I got the parts. I showed up on the set and Ann Jillian was my girlfriend on the show. She became my girlfriend in real life later on, which was sort of neat. That was the beginning of the Disney run.

Café: You appeared in several multi-part Disney episodes. Which one was your favorite and why?

Billy Mumy and McCreevey in Sammy.

MM:   That's hard. Sammy, the Way-Out Seal was the most fun, because we were kids and we got to spend two days in a pool swimming with the seal. My favorite of the TV episodes was later, when I was an adult. It was called Michael O'Hara the Fourth and starred Dan Dailey and a wonderful actress named Jo Ann Harris. It was a two-part detective story, sort of a Nancy Drew thing. I really liked my performance in that one. It was a fun thing to do and very few people know that particular one.

Café: What was it like working on the Disney lot while making those shows?

MM:  It was wonderful, especially in the '60s when Walt was still alive. He'd come every day on the set if you were on the lot. There was a real family feeling on that lot at that point. It wasn't like the other studios. And because so many children worked there, it was a more conducive place for them in general. The crews were used to kids. Mr. Disney--Uncle Walt...I always called him Mr. Disney and he would always correct me--set the tone. It was like going to summer camp. I loved it.

Café:  And did you really beat Walt Disney in ping pong?

MM:  No. Actually, I never beat him. I tried. My mother said you'd better lose. Kurt Russell claims to have waxed him.

Café:  Was he good at ping pong?

Kurt Russell and McGreevey in
The Strongest Man in the World.

MM:  Walt? Yes. I don't know if I ever played Kurt. When we used to compare notes, I said I used to play ping pong with Walt and Kurt said: "So did I." I said I never beat him and Kurt said he beat him all the time.

Café:  You and Kurt Russell made a great team in the three Dexter Riley films. Did you get along off camera?

MM:  Yes, we were roommates for four years. I tell people that I could ruin Kurt Russell (laughs). We roomed together in our twenties. We're still good friends. I talked with him before I came here.

Café:  What are your memories of acting in The Way West with Kirk Douglas, Robert Mitchum, Richard Widmark, and Sally Field?

MM:  I think that was the most fun I ever had in a movie. I was a little disappointed in the end product. I thought it could have been a much better movie. In my opinion, they sort of ruined it in the editing room. In terms of the actual shoot and the cast, I adored Sally (Field). Director Andy McLaglen was just a wonderful man. I enjoyed that role. I met (Richard) Widmark on that film, who became my mentor. I did another film with him (Death of a Gunslinger). We spent four months in Oregon, too. I made some lasting friendships. John Mitchum was in it and Bob Mitchum, Kirk Douglas, and Timothy Scott, who later went on to do a lot of great work. It was just a wonderful experience.

Café:  What led to your decision to enroll in UCLA and to pursue film writing and directing?

Michael McGreevey at the 2015
Williamsburg Film Festival.

MM:  My father (screenwriter John McGreevey) was a writer, so I always had some aspirations to write. UCLA was the best choice, because I could sort of go to class and still work if I had to. I really wanted to be a psychiatrist, but got into chemistry and realized I wouldn't make it through medical school. So, I became a psychology major and then got to statistics and realized I wasn't going to get through that. So, I went and became a film major. I had always been an actor, but I didn't really have any idea about the other side of the camera. I had seen it done as a kid. I became convinced that I could write, produce, and direct. I kept acting for about five more years. The Disney movies, although they were a delightful experience, typecast me. People forgot the other movies and thought I was this comedic actor, though I had never really done comedy until those last two or three Disney movies. I thought, well, great, I can just disappear and start writing. I was lucky enough to have a father that was well established and had a lot of contacts.

Café:  What inspired you to write the 1978 made-for-TV movie Ruby and Oswald, which became a collaborative effort between you and your father?

MM:  I had started on my own to research Jack Ruby. I was fascinated with him. I went to my Dad to get some advice on how to approach the screenplay. He said it might be more interesting to parallel Ruby with Oswald. I said I'll do that. I went back and did some stuff with that and realized there was all this documentary footage with Kennedy. In reality, the movie, although it's called Ruby and Oswald, is a three-way depiction of those four days in Dallas where we cut back and forth between the documentary footage of Kennedy and the recreated story with Ruby and Oswald. Dad and I both knew a man named Alan Landsburg, who had done a lot of documentaries. We went to him with the project first and he knew Mel Stuart, who had done an Academy Award-winning documentary called Four Days in November (1964). So, Mel was attached to direct it and we went into CBS and sold it right away as a three-hour special event movie. I was very proud of that movie; it was very well done.

Café:  You've written episodes for several first-rate TV series such as Fame and The Waltons. What was your favorite series to work on?

MM: Fame, by far. I started as a free-lance on one episode of Fame. I later became the story editor and then became the creative consultant--they kept moving me up. I ended up producing the show the last season. I did a total of four seasons on Fame. My background was in musical theater. It was like Mickey Rooney and Judy Garland--let's put on a show every week. And they were paying me all this money to do it. It was fun. I loved The Waltons. I just finished a movie about (Waltons creator) Earl Hamner called Earl Hamner Storyteller. The Waltons were an important part of my life and I really enjoyed working on that show.

Café:  Do you have any upcoming films or appearances that you'd like to share with our readers?

MM:  We just screened Earl Hamner Storyteller, a ninety-minute documentary about Earl Hamner in Lynchburg (Virginia). Tuesday night, we screened it in Richmond for University of Virginia mucky-mucks and the governor of Virginia. It should appear on television in the fall. It will probably be on the Hallmark Channel. Earl is 91 and we got to screen it for him in Los Angeles in February and he got a standing ovation. It made my year.

Café:  He was such a great TV writer. People think of him with The Waltons, but he also wrote episodes of Twilight Zone and created Falcon Crest.

MM:  That's all in the documentary. He has been a family friend, my Dad's best friend. My Dad wrote 20 episodes of The Waltons and I wrote four. So, he's been Uncle Earl my whole life. But doing this movie was really fun, because I got closer to him and found out things I didn't know about Earl.

Café:  Thank you so much for doing this interview, Mr. McGreevey.


You can learn more about Michael McGreevey at his web site www.michaelmcgreevey.com and you can "like" his Facebook page.

One Good "Thing" Leads to Another

When I first saw this movie in 1982, I left convinced that John Carpenter had produced a complete misfire (especially in comparison to the classic 1951 version). But I’ve come to learn over the years that some movies age well, or perhaps they grow better because we’ve aged and our tastes have changed. John Carpenter’s The Thing is definitely one of those films for me. It's now required viewing on the first snowy day of winter and has become my favorite among the director’s work.

The Thing opens in intriguing fashion with a helicopter chasing—and trying to kill—a lone Husky in the desolate Antarctica snow. The dog runs to the U.S. National Science Institute No. 4, a remote research station. In a bizarre series of events, the helicopter crew is killed and the dog is taken in by the research station’s residents. But this is no ordinary dog. It prowls the station’s corridors stealthily as if stalking its prey. It spies silently on the residents. It’s afraid to join the other dogs, which snarl at the newcomer viciously.

Seeking an explanation for the helicopter crew’s unusual behavior, McCready (Kurt Russell) and Doc (Richard Dysart) trace its origin to a Norwegian research facility. They discover frozen corpses and a strange, partially buried “thing” that could be human. Back at the U.S. station, an alien creature reveals itself for the first time by mutating out from inside the Husky (a fairly gory scene). With the creature’s ability to imitate other life forms established, the film’s premise is finally set into motion.

If the alien can be anyone of the research station’s crew, how can it be stopped? The seriousness of the situation worsens when one of the scientists models the alien’s ability to infect humans. He determines that if the “intruder organism” reaches the general population, it could take over the planet in 27,000 hours from first contact.

The plot is supposed to be closer to John Campbell’s short story "Who Goes There?" than 1951’s The Thing (see Aki's nifty review from earlier this month). But, truth to be told, this is a mystery masquerading as science fiction. A murderer is among a group of people at a remote location—isn’t that the plot of Agatha Christie’s Ten Little Indians? The twist here is that the killer can reveal itself and then hide again by assuming another identity. The film’s best scene is when McCready devises a test for revealing the alien’s identity. This tense setup also recalls the classic mystery climax where the detective calls together all the suspects and unveils the murderer.

Subsequent viewings of The Thing allow one to appreciate its smaller pleasures: Ennio Morricone’s suspenseful electronic score (which has a definite Carpenter sound to it); an open ending that actually works (usually I loathe them); and Kurt Russell’s solid performance (less cartoonish than in Carpenter’s Escape from New York and Big Trouble in Little China).

Still, it’s the remote locale and the “who is it” premise that makes The Thing so entertaining for me. Other films have featured aliens who could take human form (most notably, the original Invasion of the Body Snatchers and cult classic The Hidden)—but this one remains my favorite.