AKA Desert Heat.
Inferno is one of those odd little movies that somehow gets itself a decent cast, has some decent humour, and has the potential to be a hidden gem. The reason that it never realises that potential lies with director John G. Avildsen, as well as Jean-Claude Van Damme (still struggling to recapture that onscreen charisma that helped him become a star over a decade previously).
Van Damme plays Eddie Lomax, a man who starts the film drunk in the middle of a desert area. He's staggering around and talking to someone, a person who may just be a figment of his imagination, and about to kill himself. His drinking and gun-waving ends up interrupted by some locals who beat him and take a motorbike that we was intending to deliver to his friend (Danny Trejo). This leads to Eddie eventually reaching a nearby town and pitting two gangs against one another while he helps to cut down their numbers.
Another reworking of Yojimbo (which is namechecked at the end, for anyone who misses it while the plot unfolds), Inferno feels very much like it is unsure of where it wants to go. The violence doesn't have the impact that it should, the moments of humour feel out of place, and scenes that skirt close to being sweaty and sleazy are too short to help the overall feel of the film. Writer Tom O'Rourke has fun but I'm not sure that director John G. Avildsen is on the same wavelength, perhaps more worried about the visual style or delivering moments that action movie fans will expect.
Aside from our leading man, the supporting cast here is generally well selected. You get Trejo, of course. Gabrielle Fitzpatrick is the woman who may catch the eye of the lead, and she does okay, but you also get Silas Weir Mitchell, Pat Morita, Larry Drake, and Jaime Pressly, as well as a horribly inappropriate bit of casting in the shape of Vincent Schiavelli playing a Mr Singh.
This should have been more in line with Last Man Standing, but with fists and feet replacing the guns from that film. I think ramping up the impact of the violence and the exploits of the bad guys would have made things ultimately more enjoyable. But it didn't do that. So what we end up with is an action thriller that titillates occasionally with the content (a couple of moments of sudden violence, one main sex scene) but is really playing it safe, for the most part. Casual JCVD fans should find it enjoyable enough though.
4/10
You can pick up the disc here.
Americans can get it here.
Showing posts with label silas weir mitchell. Show all posts
Showing posts with label silas weir mitchell. Show all posts
Wednesday, 20 June 2018
June-Claude Van Damme: Inferno (1999)
Labels:
action,
danny trejo,
desert heat,
gabrielle fitzpatrick,
inferno,
jaime pressly,
jean-claude van damme,
john g. avildsen,
larry drake,
pat morita,
silas weir mitchell,
tom o'rourke,
vincent schiavelli
Wednesday, 21 September 2011
The Patriot (1998)
Based loosely on a novel, "The Last Canadian", by William Heine, The Patriot starts off as something quite unique for a Steven Seagal movie. Well, actually, that's not true. It starts off with the usual preposterous mix of gravitas and wisdom that ol' woodenhead always tries to give himself but then it turns into a killer virus movie. What the hell?
Seagal is a wise cowpoke who can heal animals with his wonderful selection of homemade remedies but, wouldn’t you just know it, he can also apply those healing hands to people too, making him a very popular doctor in his town. When a killer virus is released in the town (the kind of nasty stuff that Seagal worked with in the past before arguing with his superiors and trying to have a quiet life) then it soon becomes clear that one man may be the best hope to find a cure. And, somehow, his young daughter is keeping the germs at bay, making herself valuable to the baddies who released the virus without realising that the antidote didn’t work.
Seeing Seagal as a man of medicine is a bizarre experience. You initially wonder just what the hell he’s playing at before thinking that other action stars try to stretch themselves so why can’t Seagal . . . . . . . . . before returning to the main thought of “what the hell is he playing at?”
Thankfully, this doctor is just as handy with his fists as he is with a petri dish and microscope. There are only one or two action sequences throughout the movie but they’re not too bad. They’re certainly a lot better than the scenes showing Seagal to be a wise, mystical and benevolent healer of those around him. And better than most of the scenes between Seagal and the young girl playing his daughter (Camilla Belle, all too believable as a young Seagalina thanks to her wooden acting and expressionless face).
This is a movie that just shouldn’t be any good at all but somehow provides a lot of unintentional laughs and simple entertainment in places. The cast are mostly unknowns so there’s no added reason to watch this unless you want to see a movie in which Seagal sticks a spike IN SOMEONE’S HEAD one moment before smiling at his daughter while flowers fall around them the next. You think I’m joking? Watch this for yourself and enjoy. Hell, I admit that I was intermittently entertained but perhaps not in the way that director Dean Semler intended.
5/10
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Labels:
action,
camilla belle,
dean semler,
gailard sartain,
john kingswell,
l. q. jones,
m. sussman,
silas weir mitchell,
steven seagal,
thriller,
william heine
Location:
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