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BradH812
Holy Cardinal and Five Star General of the Righteous Knighthood of Jabootu
USA
1294 Posts |
 Posted - 08/04/2008 : 7:17:28 PM
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I promised myself I’d never do a write-up on this one here. After writing about 2010, I had second thoughts. Now I could write up The Black Hole, complete with all its howlers, and get away with it, putting it in the Movies I Like category. So away we go!
When I was eight years old, the Sunday comics included a strip that was basically a comics adaptation of a Walt Disney movie. Around late 1979, the comic started with one of Disney’s upcoming movies, The Black Hole. It was unusual, a (supposedly) serious sci-fi tale from the home of G-rated kiddie flicks. Now, at age eight, I didn’t have much of a discerning eye, but if memory serves, the artwork in the comic strip was excellent — as well it should be: it was drawn by the great Jack Kirby.
Anyway, later on that year, I saw the trailer for The Black Hole and did a double take. Yep, I’d seen it right. No mistaking it.
Rated PG.
Wh-a-a-a-t?? A Disney movie with a PG rating?! I wanted to see the movie based on that novelty alone.
I fell in love with it at first sight. Loved it, loved it lo-o-o-o-o-o-oved IT!!! (Remember, I was eight years old.) I didn’t care that Siskel and What’s-His-Face panned it. Nope. Didn’t care that other critics didn’t care for it. No way. This was my most favoritest movie in the whole world!
I started collecting all sorts of Black Hole stuff. Action figures (which were much flimsier than the Star Wars toys), coloring books, novelization, at least two storybook adaptations, soundtrack album, a very well-done storybook LP. No, I don’t have any of those things anymore, dammit. They’d probably be worth some money today. That storybook album was pretty impressive. They had to take out some plot points, but overall they did a good job of compressing a 96-minute movie into a 45-minute LP, with good narration (and a well-done photo album) covering all the stuff you can’t put into a radio play.
I also got a comic book adaptation of the movie, thinking it was gonna be the Sunday strip in book form. How naive of me. The comic book was awful (I could tell this even at eight). Does anyone know how I could get my hands on those Jack Kirby strips?
So, I saw it at the theater, I saw it on HBO, I saw it when it came on The Disney Channel, I saw it on videotape (several times). And over time, it began to lose its luster. The flaws in the movie became more and more obvious as I got older and (presumably) wiser. Of course, I bought the DVD when Anchor Bay released it, and I bought it again when the official Disney DVD came out.
So I can see all the many many problems in this flick. There are parts that make me cringe, parts that make me howl with laughter. But....
Well, the title of this review says “Movies I Like.”
The Black Hole has been dismissed as a Star Wars ripoff, but while it does steal quite a bit from that landmark film, one has to take into account that The Black Hole was in development since around 1974. Also, its plot is much, much closer to the structure of 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea.
Hmmmmm. Okay, now I know I want to work in Ron Miller’s involvement in this movie, and I wanted to mention it up front. Let’s shift him back to the Afterthoughts section; his involvement with this movie — and with Disney during the late sixties, seventies, and early eighties — are worth a look.
The novelization and the storybook adaptations had some background and plot elements that didn’t figure into the final film. I suspect they were in the script until the last days before shooting began, or they were edited out in post. Again, there’s some interesting stuff in there, stuff I wish the movie had kept in, and I’ll mention it from time to time.
Finally, a warning. There are many, many things about this movie that could probably give it Jabootu’s blessing. In many cases, I’m gonna give it a pass or look the other way. I shudder to think how much anal blood Food might gush forth while watching this film, and the idea of Ken Begg letting this one have it is kinda scary. (And that ain’t nuthin’ compared to what science geek Lyz Kingsley might do.) So, just keep in mind, this is not an unbiased review!
(Management: Great. Breaking some of your own rules and promising a ten-cent film history course based on crap you probably saw on Wikipedia. And another long-assed intro. Should I set my watch to see what point you start to fawn over Stanley Kubrick again, Brad? Or maybe— Hey! Let go of me!)
I don’t think so! I’ve had about enough of you, my friend.
(Management: Brad, I swear to Jabootu, if you throw me in that broom closet again, you’ll regret it!)
Not half as much as you will, baby. Get in there!
(Management: Brad, don’t even THINK abou— SLAM!!! Mmm mm mmmmm mmmm, mmm mmm-mm-m-mmmmm!!!)
Thought he’d never shut up. Okay, let’s get into it. For the record, this review will be based on the Disney DVD. Disney’s mastering was sharper than Anchor Bay’s, and they had an interesting interview with Harrison Ellenshaw, but I kinda prefer Anchor Bay’s treatment. Ah well, go with what’s available.
There’s a website devoted to this movie, with some good photos and info; [url="http://www.geocities.com/Area51/Shire/6822/"]Check it out.[/url]
Be warned: it hasn’t been updated in a long time, and it may have some glitches that crashed my computer (don’t know if it’s because of the site, or because my computer is ancient by cyber-standards). The links section, particularly, is out of date.
In.... Through.... And Beyond!
We open with what began the film for its premiere screenings: an overture. It’s loud and bombastic, kind of like what the Star Wars theme might be if regular James Bond composer John Barry wrote it. Whaddaya know, Barry DID compose the score for this movie. Anyway, it’s not a half bad fanfare; it’ll be repeated a couple of times later on in the movie proper, making for the only major-key music in the whole thing. The Black Hole and Star Trek: The Motion Picture were, I think, the last two movies to have an overture at their premiere. Their scores have something else in common. The fanfare ends with a nice flourish, then dies down to a final chord, a quiet, menacing tone... played on... wait for it... the Blaster Beam!!! Ohhhhh, YES!!! (And the good news is that John Barry has a good idea how to use this bitchin’ instrument.)
The studio credit types out in a computer-y font; to the best of my knowledge, Disney, around this time, was the only major studio not to have a logo. We go to a starfield, and the opening credits type themselves on screen as a computerized grid appears and we start to move over it. The Black Hole is a very, very strange mix of good and bad, and for me, one of the funniest things about it is that the good stuff and the bad stuff are often one and the same. This is an example. We move over this plane of vector lines as the credits continue, until we come upon a giant whirlpool, spinning around it then tunneling in. This was state-of the-art in 1979, and was the longest bit of computer animation in a movie up to then. Three years later, it was dated... But it still looks good. There’s a nice retro feel here, and it’s a good, stylish way to open a film. And yet.... The idea of a flat plane leading to a bottomless whirlpool was cooked up by astronomers and physicists as a way of showing to the layman how a very powerful gravity source worked.* Unfortunately, sci-fi writers latched onto it, taking it literally, turning black holes into a sort of dimensional tunnel. Nope. T’ain’t what a black hole is at all. Basically, a black hole is the ultimate deathtrap. Several sci-fi films and TV shows fell into this hole (I am sooooo punny), including Star Trek: TMP. The Black Hole made the mistake of putting this thing right smack dead center in its plot. Ah well, I’m gonna go with it. Just a movie, right?
*[I suspect this movie was more influential than people give it credit for. For several years after its release, when a science book or magazine aimed toward the non-scientist depicted a black hole, it was likely as not to show the grid-and-whirlpool motif.]
Anyway, John Barry’s score here sets the scene nicely. All dark and melodramatic, in waltz time, and it’s a good sign that Disney was at least trying to set this movie apart from Star Wars. The trombones blare out the melody, while a high instrument — a synth, or maybe even a theremin (cool!) — gives a loopy arpeggio that plays through the opening. Yeah, I’m groovin’ on this stuff.
The credits reveal that there were four screenwriters, Ron Miller produced, and Gary Nelson directed. Also, the production design was by Peter Ellenshaw. I read that Disney touted Ellenshaw as the real “star” of The Black Hole, and he probably deserved the title. Anyway, we’re out of the vector graphics and into the movie.
The film opens with a long bit of voiceover techno-babble from Our Heroes, as we see the good guys’ ship, the Palomino drifting toward us through space. While the technical dialogue is bland as hell (the only useful thing we learn is that Our Heroes have been in space for a year and a half), the opening shot has some nice stuff in it. First off, the Palomino looks pretty cool. Second, this movie shows most of space being, you know, dark. There’s no nearby sun throwing a lot of light onto the ship; you can barely make it out against the background.
There’s one last bit that I like, and it’ll show up throughout the exteriors in this film. Maybe it’s just luck that it turned out this way, but it looks like the movie takes place in or around a large nebula... and the nebula basically looks like faint blue-green clouds. Bingo! This is what a nebula looks like when you look at one through a telescope. It’s funny how better movies (such as Star Trek II) get this wrong, while a silly movie like The Black Hole nails it. (Nebulas only show their bright colors and details in timed-exposure photos.)
Anyway, one of our heroes, someone named Vincent, calls “Mr. Pizer” up to the bridge to take a look at something he’s spotted.
First Officer Charlie Pizer (Joseph Bottoms) comes up to the bridge to find Vincent, a silver robot shaped like a small beer keg (and voiced by Roddy McDowell) telling him they’ve found “the largest black hole I have ever encountered.” Um, black holes themselves are extremely small, relatively. (The novelization corrected this, substituting the words “most powerful” for “largest.”) Charlie asks to get a look at a hologram of the thing, and the dialogue (and Bottoms’s acting) aren’t too promising. Vincent hits a control on the console and a big blue image of the black hole appears in the middle of the room. Nice! Probably not very accurate, but it looks fairly menacing, and the sting from the Blaster Beam works quite well. (The hologram effects were all done in-camera, and they still look pretty good 29 years later.)
We get a shot of Robert Forster and Yvette Mimieaux floating up a large tunnel (which probably looked good in 1979, but looks dated today), then Mimieaux joins Anthony Perkins and Ernest Borgnine in what I assume is the workroom of the ship as Forster goes up to the bridge.
Let’s pause and take a look at the set design. The Palomino has one big problem (thankfully, it’s the only serious flaw, and it’s not easy to notice unless ya have someone to point it out): it’s much too small. We have the bridge, the workroom, and the engine room. There’s not much room for living quarters, food storage, a recreation area, etc., which would be mandatory on a mission lasting nearly two years.
Everything else though, is a winner. Peter Ellenshaw may well have based these sets on photos of Skylab’s interior; if so, he did a good job. The interior is cramped and functional but somehow manages to be comfortable. We can clearly see the ceiling in the workroom, showing how small the space is. The control consoles are mercifully lacking in Christmas tree lights (another thing Star Trek II is guilty of having). The way things are laid out, you get a strong sense that if someone touches a pad or throws a switch, something will happen. The console on the bridge has several ports around it for Vincent to extend an arm and plug in. Here’s another tidbit: it’s clear this ship doesn’t have artificial gravity; everyone is shown floating around (which causes problems I’ll get into in a minute). We see a few notebooks lying on the console in the workroom.... and each one of them has a big clamp holding it down. Kudos to Peter Ellenshaw. This wasn’t needed, but it’s a really nice little detail to sell the idea that these people are in space, not on a soundstage.
If only the writers paid as much attention to the details when typing up the dialogue. Much of it sounds like a first-draft TV script that needs work (there’s a reason for this), and the actors give it about that much effort. Anthony Perkins sleepwalks through much of this movie, and Mimieux and Borgnine act like they’re going through first-week rehearsals. Bottoms is given very little to do, and he doesn’t put much effort in. The only one of Our Heroes who really seems to have a lock on his character is Forster (though Mimieux and Borgnine will come around, to a degree, later on). Robert Forster doesn’t stretch any acting muscles here, but gives a professional, workmanlike performance.
Before getting back into the movie (and this review has gone on much longer than the movie has so far; sorry), let’s introduce Our Heroes:
Dan Holland — captain (Forster)
Charlie Pizer — first officer (Bottoms)
Alex Durant — lead scientist (Perkins)
Kate McRae — second scientist (Mimieux)
Harry Booth — civilian reporter covering the mission (Borgnine)
Vincent — da robot (McDowell)
Okay, back to the story. Harry, Kate, and Alex look at the holo of the black hole. Harry says it’s “right out of Dante’s Inferno,” then Alex and Kate give a dumbed-down lesson on what a black hole is (and it’s very, very simplified) for the audience. Kate notes that she had a professor who “predicted that black holes would eventually devour the entire universe.” She probably had several professors make a prediction like that; while that theory is now obsolete, it's an established belief that black holes will indeed play a major part in the future of space and time. Up on the bridge, Charlie sides with Harry’s view of these things, saying he half-expects to see Satan himself whenever he sees one of these suckers (pardon the pun). That might sound a bit melodramatic, but 29 years later, knowing more about black holes than I did at the time, I have to agree with Charlie. These things are the stuff of nightmares; it’s pretty creepy to think something like this could exist, anywhere. Vincent breaks into the convo by telling the others that he’s found something else: an object floating nearby that looks man-made. It doesn’t take long for them to identify it: the U.S.S. Cygnus. Dan and Charlie and Vincent try to hail the ship, and as Charlie moves around the console, I caught a wire holding him up.
The nice thing about taking all these long side trips early on is that it’ll free up the rest of the review, making it go by more quickly. Theoretically, at least. Anyway, I’ve been looking for wires, and I’ve spotted them twice so far. Let’s get the wire work out of the way. The actors are simulating zero-g, and Vincent and another robot we’ll meet later on are capable of flying. Which means wire work. A lot of wire work. A lot of wire work in a era that didn’t have CG wire removal. Without having to strain, I can think of at least eight or nine instances where I caught the wires holding the actors or robots up. This is bad. And yet....
The Black Hole was put up for Best Visual Effects. While I read one critique where the guy complained about seeing the wires, I read another one where the critic said he looked for wires and couldn’t find them. What to do, what to do?
Okay. I’m gonna break a cardinal rule here and look the other way. This is giving the movie a huge benefit of the doubt, but allow me to explain. The War of the Worlds (the George Pal one, which was, you know, entertaining) has Martian machines clearly hooked up to wires. When shown in the theaters, the projection process blurred out the lines. Maybe the same thing happened with The Black Hole. I’d need to go back to 1979 to know for sure, though, and my time machine’s in the shop for repairs (can you believe how much it costs to replace a flux capacitor these days?). Let’s play the apologist even more: Terminator 2 was a 90-million dollar extravaganza, but when watching it on DVD, I spotted the wire work — after it had been digitally erased. And I was shocked when The Empire Strikes Back came on HBO, and I could see matte lines in just about every damn shot in space. So, except when it’s really really painfully obvious, I’ll assume that the wire work was difficult or impossible to see in the theater, and try to ignore it. (Remember, I ain’t an unbiased reviewer this time.)
Management: Mmmm, mmm mmm mm m mmmmm! M mmmm mmmmmmm mmmm!!!
What’s that? You don’t consider it hypocritical at all and I’m doing a great job? Thanks!
Management: MMMMMMMMMMMMM!!!
Timmy’s stuck in the well? Ah, he shouldn’t have been playing so near it in the first place. Let’s get back to the review. (And I hear a sigh of relief from the reader. Eight pages in, and the movie hasn’t hit the ten-minute mark; this is a record for me.)
While I was yakkin’, Kate, Harry, and Alex gave a little expo on this mysterious ship. The Cygnus is an older ship that had the mission of searching for “habitable” life in outer space (twenty years ago, I assumed they meant life that’s compatible with ours; you know, DNA-based, oxygen-breathing, that sort of thing. Most likely, though, it was a screw-up on the writers’ part), which is the same mission the Palomino is on. They were recalled to Earth twenty years ago, their mission considered a failure, but they disappeared without a trace. Also, we learn that the Cygnus was conceived, built, and commanded by one Dr. Hans Reinhardt (dontcha love that name? You know he’s gonna be a villain). Harry describes Reinhardt as a charismatic megalomaniac, and he speculates that Reinhardt just ignored the come-home order. Alex worships Reinhardt as a hero, thinking he’s Stephen Hawking with much better posture. Oh, yeah, Kate’s father was an officer on board the Cygnus. (This will come back and bite the movie on the ass later on.) Clunky dialogue, and the actors walk through it, but it gets the backstory out efficiently. I like the fact that Harry, the source of info on Reinhardt, isn’t unbiased. He met the guy many years ago, and he clearly has disdain for him.
Up on the bridge, Charlie tries to talk Dan into getting in close and letting him and Vincent board the ship. Vincent nixes it, saying, “Rashness is the characteristic of youth, prudence that of mellowed age, and discretion the better part of valor.” This is the first — and far from last — annoying proverb that Vincent will utter. This leads to a funny moment where Vincent is undermined: Harry, the oldest crewmember, is all for going in. Dan doesn’t like the idea, reminding us that hey, there’s a collapsed star that can spaghettify us (that’s an actual term, by the way) right quick. Anyway, Our Heroes have been hailing this ship, but not getting a response. Charlie figures that the “turbulence” out there (it wouldn’t be turbulence causing interference, but I’m gonna let this go) could be blocking the signals.
Alex chimes in: the Cygnus doesn’t seem to be operational; it’s a dead hulk in space. But it isn’t drifting towards the black hole. That should make it worth a look. Dan is still against it, but Kate has slipped to the bridge, and she gives him the Big Puppy Eyes, and he relents: let’s take a look.
Okay, Dan is a little too safety-first. I buy that he puts his crew’s well being top dead center. But not taking any risk to solve a 20-year-old disappearance? I remember seeing Alan Bean interviewed for In the Shadow of the Moon; he’d probably tease Dan here, saying he’s not sure Dan has the Right Stuff. (Besides, doesn’t this crew’s mission imply some risk will be involved?) With hindsight, though, Dan’s right. Our Heroes are about to get in way over their heads.
So he tells Charlie to hit the thrusters and they get underway. Hey kids! You wanna imitate the Palomino’s engines powering up? Lift your voice up as you say, “Awwwwwwwwwww...” then crash down saying “CHOW Paw!” Let’s do it together: Awwwwwwwww, CHOW paw! And now you sound just like the Palomino.
The effects of the black hole’s gravity (which is relatively low at this distance) are shown by shaking the camera a bit and having the actors do the Star Trek shake. Not all that realistic, but it works okay. Also, this film sets itself apart from Star Wars in that it shows early on that our spaceships won’t do any aerobatics or get into dogfights: when the Palomino does a simple turn, it looks clumsy (as it should), and you see directional thrusters doing the turning. On board, Charlie notes the rising level of gravity, and we get a tiny bit of characterization from him when he mutters, “She’s bucking like a bronco.” Both Vincent and Dan note that if the gravity gets much higher, they won’t be able to break free without risking damage to the ship (not great, but decent foreshadowing).
We get a very nice shot of the Palomino approaching the Cygnus, which is still mostly in silhouette, then Our Heroes notice a slight change in the gravity they’re fightin’: it disappears. I liked the confusion on their faces: hey, this ain’t supposed to happen! Alex guesses that something inside the Cygnus might be shielding them from the gravity (and he does so in classic B-movie fashion, all serious-o). The Palomino does a flyby, skirting the underbelly of the bigger ship.
Ah, now we’re talkin’! The tracking shots of the Cygnus still hold up today; they look great. That loopy Theremin theme starts to play again as the Palomino does its fly-under, and the dim light and camera movement work really well. You do believe you’re out in space, looking at a ship that is effin’ huge. There’s a giggle-inducing moment when Alex says he’s turning on the “microbeam.” [Chortle.] Dude, just say you’re kicking in the spotlights. Charlie continues to hail the Cygnus, but she isn’t answering. The Cygnus is all external girders and supports; she looks like the Eiffel Tower took a big dose of gamma radiation then got really really mad. Way cool.
The Palomino drifts past the Cygnus’s bow, and we get a really good look at the black hole in the distance. It looks like a giant blue whirlpool. I’ve seen artists’ depictions of accretion discs, and this isn’t exactly right, but it’s not too far off, either. And it does look both extremely cool and quite menacing. I like it.
Oops! The Palomino tried to swing around the Cygnus, and it drifted out of that zero-g zone. The ship starts to shimmy and shake. Dan says it nicely: “I think it’s got us.” (Forster underplays his part, and as stated above, I liked his performance.) The Palomino starts to tumble end over end, which is shown by very slowly tilting the camera 360 degrees. This was a cheap and fairly effective way to show these guys had a real problem steering their ship, and it’s helped by some nice exterior shots of the Palomino going ass over teakettle.
Looks like Dan and Vincent were right: either the tumbling or the high gravity is starting to play havoc with the ship. The oxygen lines start to rupture. Yikes. (Note to shipbuilders: it’s probably a good idea to make the life support systems very very hard to break.) Alex and Harry go back to the engine room to make repairs. Vincent reports that a hatch has blown and volunteers to go EVA and secure it. He goes out, wearing a tether.
Back on board, Charlie has trouble contacting Vincent (uh oh, here we goes). Dan tells Kate to try and reach him “with your ESP.” [Snerk snort chortle.] ESP. This movie actually comes up with some really neat ideas, but then it has a lot of trouble in the execution. It’ll be established later on (to some degree; I wish they’d been more clear about this) that telepathy has been proven to exist, and that certain humans, like Kate, can communicate with robots outfitted to, uh, link up. But the writers probably couldn’t think of a good way to introduce this quickly, so they just said “ESP.” Damn. (And they couldn’t just write it out: Kate’s telepathy with Vincent will be an important plot point.)
Kate’s ESP link with Vincent is conveyed through a sound effect that sounds like an out-of-tune AM radio, or maybe that Theremin needs calibrating. We see some animated red dots in Vincent’s eyes, and happily, this is one of the VERY few times the ESP will be shown this way. Anyway, Kate tells the others that Vincent’s still giving proverbs out, leading to decent joke from Charlie. Uh oh! Bum bum BUM! Vincent doesn’t notice that part of the tether is worn down and is starting to fray. (Note to astronauts going EVA: no matter how quickly you need to get out there, check your equipment! That shout-out was for movie astronauts; I suspect that the real ones have this drilled into their heads already.)
Anyhoo, Dan-n-Charlie manage to get the Palomino to stop her little gymnastics routine and fire the thrusters (Awwwwwwwwww, CHOW paw!) and make a run for the zero-g area around the Cygnus. Meantime, Vincent’s able to get the hatch and close it up (too easily, if’n ya asks me; c’mon, filmmakers, make it more of a challenge), and Kate relays the message to Dan. Here’s the bad news: Alex reports that the air regenerator is shot; it has damaged parts that have to be replaced. And guess what Our Heroes don’t have on board. (I’ll give the movie a mulligan here. One can assume that the crew or the ship’s designers never dreamed they’d be in a situation like this. Maybe.)
Outside... Oooops. The tether breaks! Kate tells Dan about this, and Charlie makes to go out after Vincent. Dan shoots this idea down, and Charlie snaps at him. The exchange is pretty lame, but there’s one aspect of it that I like: as much as Vincent annoys him, Charlie considers him his bestest buddy. Dan lets the backtalk slide, but makes it clear: he doesn’t want Vincent to get hurt, but he ain’t risking another crewmember.
Outside, Vincent loses his grip on the ship’s hull. Zounds! Whatever will he do?! He fires a little towline and magnet out of his side and reels himself back in. Well, that attempt at suspense sucked. Actually, this does do one thing right. Kinda. It shows that Vincent has all sorts of compartments with stuff that can come in handy; he’s kind of a Swiss army knife and Bartlett’s Quotations rolled into one. I wish, however, that they’d shown him finding a way to use a small drill to, say, bore a handhold into the hull. (I say this because the drill will be very important later on, and we could’ve used an establishing bit here.) Anyway, he reels in, he’s okay, and Our Heroes make it back inside Cygnus’s gravity shield. Dan gives the order to look for a place to dock. In a minute, he’ll spell it out (in a credible way): they’re hoping that they can find replacement parts on board the Cygnus that will jibe with the Palomino’s air system.
Wanna know how long-winded I can be? This review has gone on much longer than the movie itself. At this point, if you take out the overture and opening credits, we’re about twelve minutes in. The Black Hole was directed by Gary Nelson, one of Disney’s regular on-contract directors. Nelson, I suspect, didn’t have much experience working with special effects, and that will be a problem later on. But one thing he does right is keep things moving. Even in “slower” scenes, which we’ll see a lot of in the next forty-five minutes or so, it doesn’t get boring. Actually, this movie could have stood to be a little longer, letting a bit of character development get in (if the writers could handle it); as it is, we learn almost nothing about Our Heroes. But give credit where it’s due, this movie hauls ass. |
Edited by - BradH812 on 08/26/2008 7:37:04 PM
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BradH812
Holy Cardinal and Five Star General of the Righteous Knighthood of Jabootu
USA
1294 Posts |
Posted - 08/04/2008 : 7:22:34 PM
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So, the Palomino does another flyby, making sure to stick close to the Cygnus. It makes its way to the stern and then the Cygnus comes to life, lighting up. And I do mean, lighting up: the whole damn ship seems to glow. The musical sting here is over-the-top, but it fits. Damn, we had a joke shot of Vincent hiding his “face” when the Cygnus turned all its lights on. (Vincent will alternate between being a useful, and even heroic, member of the cast, and being the OCR. Guess which version I prefer?) The dialogue from the rest of Our Heroes is fairly lame. Charlie, this ship is absolutely beautiful when lit up, but I wouldn’t describe it as looking like a Christmas tree. Dan decides to arm the weapons, but Alex says whoever’s aboard the Cygnus has to be friendly (which I don’t buy); if they want to take the Palomino out, it won’t be much of a fight (which I do buy).
We get some sweeping shots of the Palomino doing its flyby, and I love this stuff. The Cygnus isn’t realistic at all, but it may well be my favorite movie spaceship of all time. Charlie notes that a docking port at the bow is opening up; someone on board the ship is inviting them in. Dan doesn’t like not knowing the score, but they don’t have much choice. Charlie makes an apology for his earlier backtalk, and Dan pretty much tells him to forget it ever happened. Now, I don’t know how a military person would react to Dan and Charlie, but I like Dan. He’s not gonna get all Captain Ahab on you unless he absolutely has to, he seems calm and reliable, he doesn’t rattle easily, and he holds his crew’s safety paramount. Maybe not the best captain who ever lived, but he’s pretty solid.
Anyhoo, the Palomino comes in to dock (and I’ll ignore the co-inky dink that it fits the docking port perfectly). Charlie looks around and notes, “We have gravity!” (Snicker) That simple, eh? No, no hint that the Palomino has a centrifuge or any other form of artifical gravity here, and the crew doesn’t have to spend a day getting acclimated to their newfound weight. They’re just hunky dory.
An airlock extends from the Cygnus to the Palomino’s main hatch, and we see Vincent slipping in before it makes contact. Our Heroes gather at the hatch and go in; Dan and Charlie carry weapons. Vincent’s proverb here actually fits. Savor it; this is a rare thing.
The opposite door opens, but no one is there to greet them. Dan tells Charlie to stay and guard the ship, much to Charlie’s disappointment. Vincent gives another proverb, and he and Charlie have some Komedy Banter. Charlie complains that he’s playing “straight man to a tin can,” then heads back to the Palomino, after doing some faux John Wayne theatrics.
They go into a large room that looks like a waiting room in an airport. Alex and Kate trade a bit of melodramatic dialogue, then the door to the airlock closes. Uh oh. A bright light turns on overhead, making everyone shield their eyes, then a hidden laser fires, taking out Dan’s gun, and also knocking out Vincent’s weapons. Dan calls Charlie, telling him the situation, and ordering him to stay put. The radios these folks carry are basically rectangular buttons on their collars, a cheap and fairly effective prop. Not bad. Kate goes to make sure Vincent is okay (and he’s still annoying; yep, he’s okay). Harry says we can scratch the idea of these guys being friends. Alex counters that “they could’ve killed us if they wanted.” Harry doesn’t buy it, and I don’t blame him. Um, Alex, they still can kill you if they want.
The far door opens, and Our Heroes step out of the reception area into a huge chamber, which we will learn later on is the Main Corridor. The door to Reception closes behind them, and they see a side door open, leading to a small car on tracks (the future equivalent to the PeopleMover, maybe?). Obviously, someone’s making sure Our Heroes keep moving.
Meanwhile, back in Reception.... The overhead light goes out, and the door leading to the Palomino opens quietly. Bum bum BUM! Several chocolate-brown robots file into the room, drawing their guns, marching stiff-legged toward the airlock. These sentry robots were meant to be an allegory to Nazi brownshirts (no kidding!), goose-stepping and all. Let’s face it, though, it’s stunt people in robot suits, even though their faces look somewhat menacing.
The rest of Our Heroes get on the tram and go for a little ride through a tube running the length of the ship. While it gives a great view, I’d be nervous about taking an express ride that’s one Plexiglass sheet away form the vacuum of space. The convo is pretty banal, but it does establish one thing: the big-ass tower at the stern of the ship houses the bridge.
They come to the end of the ride and make their way toward the Command Tower. Vincent mentions (and this is a weird place to put it) that robots in his line were assigned to an experiment: let themselves go into a black hole and report their findings through ESP message to their human counterparts. Actually, this is an attempt to explain the whole ESP dialogue, as well as an attempt to set up a plot point later on. Our Heroes make their way to the elevator leading to the Command Tower, and Peter Ellenshaw’s production design fails him, for probably the only time in the movie: he shows the one-car elevator to be the only way in or out of the Command Tower. No other escape routes or back-ups in case of emergencies. Oops. (Nice tilt up to show where Our Heroes are going, though.)
The crew gets out of the elevator and steps onto the bridge. Very nice! The control room is huge (two stories of control panels), brightly and colorfully lit... and silent. We see several dark figures moving around quietly, but Vincent believes they’re robots of some sort. Harry isn’t impressed by all of this: he harrumphs on how much this cost the public.
Kate looks like she’s about to talk to one of those robots, when Dan tells her to hold up: they have company. Oh yeah.
Say hello to Maximillian.
We’ll learn his name in a minute, but man, this is a scary robot. Human sized, barrel-chested (and armor-plated), bright red, with one glowing red eye in the center of his head, and that eye has upturned ends, looking like devil horns. This brute hovers down and approaches the Palomino crew, then extends two arms, on the end of which are sets of whirling blades. Yep, this guy’s got Cuisinarts for hands. Dan tries to call Charlie, but Charlie doesn’t answer (not that Charlie could do anything from the other end of the ship). Vincent gets between this guy and Our Heroes as Alex assumes that the Cygnus is run entirely by robots “with this thing in charge.” We see someone in the shadows turn and correct Alex, saying, “Maximillian and my other robots only run this ship the way I wish it run.” He then reveals he’s been monitoring their communications and therefore knows all their names (convenient, no? But it does do away with the obligatory intros) before telling Maximillian (great name for this guy, yes?) to calm down. He steps into the light. Ladies and gents, meet Dr. Hans Reinhardt (Maximillian Schell). Reinhardt has wild, curly gray hair, a bushy beard, a fairly heavy German accent, and eyes that go “Helter Skelter! Helter Skelter!”
Reinhardt singles out Kate and breaks the news to her: her father died years ago. He praises Papa McRae as “a man to be proud of.” When Dan asks about the rest of the crew, Reinhardt says, “They didn’t make it back?” with the air of someone who’s not very surprised. Anyway, Harry presses Reinhardt to cough up what happened after the recall order came through. Reinhardt says that the Cygnus was disabled in a meteor storm. He ordered the crew to abandon ship and try to make it home on their own. Kate’s father volunteered to stay behind; they never heard from the others.
Here’s where Kate’s father becomes a problem. He’s her dad, and he leaves home on a mission which will presumably last several years. When the Cygnus is supposedly disabled, he stays behind, rather than try and get back home to his family. Right. Kate is appropriately shaken here, but she will be much, much too chipper later on. Okay, she’s not that surprised Dear Old Dad is gone, but still she bounces back much too quickly. Having one of Our Heroes have an emotional investment in this movie is okay, but why couldn’t they have made it, say, a cousin or an old boyfriend? Someone she’ll be concerned for, and someone whose death will take a bite out of her, but not her father (whom she was apparently close to).
Reinhardt confirms he’s been out here for the last twenty years, but “I didn’t live exactly alone. I have created companions of a sort. They look a bit Medieval, but I am a romantic.” These are the robots at the controls here. They look Medieval, all right: they wear long gray robes and hoods, with egg-shaped plates for faces. I’m gonna call these guys the robe-bots (HA! I kill me!).
The elevator opens, and Charlie steps out, flanked by the four sentry robots (one can assume that they took Charlie’s gun). Charlie makes a lame joke, and Reinhardt dismisses the guards. He tells Charlie, don’t take it personally; the robots are designed to prevent any “aggression.” Alex, Reinhardt and Dan spell it out pretty quickly: the Palomino crew comes in peace, looking for stuff they can use to fix their ship, and Reinhardt considers them his guests (and I’m tempted to start singing “Consider yourself... at home... Consider yourself... one of the fam—” Okay, I’ll stop). Then Reinhardt reveals they’re not in any danger from the big blue whirlpool outside: he’s designed an anti-gravity shield to protect them. (Pure BS, but hell, it’s a movie, right?)
Dan asks why Reinhardt never replied to their hails, since he clearly received them. Reinhardt gets all coy and says, basically, phone trouble. (At this point, if you look for it, you’ll see the tip of Maximillian Schell’s shoulder disappear under a matte painting for a split second. I’ll get into the problems the movie’s FX have later on.) He then tells Dan that Max will take Dan-n-Charlie-n-Vincent to Parts Storage to get whatever they need to repair their ship, while Reinhardt gives the civilian crew the guided tour of the Cygnus.
Max gets in Vincent’s way, and the two have a stare-down contest. There’s a lame attempt at cuteness in Vincent’s reaction. Charlie tells Vincent to back down; Max is more than Vincent can handle, despite what Vincent says. Reinhardt watches, laughs, and says this is like David and Goliath, “only this time, David is overmatched.”* Dan tells Reinhardt to call Max off, then shouts at him when Reinhardt does nothing. Reinhardt fixes him with a cold glare and says, quietly, “On my ship, you ask, Captain.” Dan gets the message and asks quietly. (Nicely done. Forster’s role is obviously the Square-Jawed Hero, but he does it well, with a bit of brains. Dan’s no pushover, but he knows when not to pick a fight. And Reinhardt is clearly no friend, despite his airs.) Reinhardt tells Max to cut the crap and take Our Heroes to the storage area. Dan whispers to Kate not to trust Reinhardt: communications problems or no, he took long enough to turn on those lights. On board the elevator, Vincent makes a he-ain’t-so tough crack at Max’s expense, and Max, who is mute, makes a gesture that says it clearly: “Don’t mess with me, peewee.” Dan hints that maybe Vincent should knock it off.
*[This is at least the third or fourth Christian reference made in this movie. There will be, I’d guess, about a half dozen more, including one king-sized whopper at the end. Most of them are of the Sunday-school variety, with little depth. No, it doesn’t work. Individually, most of the references are okay, but added up, they get tiresome. With one exception, they feel forced, the writers’ attempt to give the movie weight by tossing out some religious material now and then. Sigh.]
Back on the bridge, Harry notes that for a disabled ship the Cygnus looks awful photogenic. Reinhardt confirms that the ship was fully repaired... but he didn’t bother to head back home. Harry continues to press (rightly so; this is the equivalent to stealing six or seven aircraft carriers), and Reinhardt gives a lame defense, then says, “I am about to prove to you that the end justifies the means.” Sloppy. Very sloppy. Have him come just short of saying that, have it very clear, and have Harry take a step back as he realizes this guy’s philosophy. But you don’t have the villain state his belief so rawly, not if the villain wants to win anyone over. (Are you listening, Oliver Stone? And yes, I know the Joker did the exact same thing in The Dark Knight, but remember, Joker doesn’t care about winning a popularity contest.)
Max leads Dan-Charlie-n-Vincent through the ship, and we see a few groups of sentries and robe-bots going past, either on a car or on foot. We get a good idea of what the Main Corridor of this ship is like: an enormous passage running the ship’s length, with bridges spanning it leading to other parts of the ship, the floor lined with big storage containers; cars go by on tracks on top of the, uh, sidings. My description may not be the best in the world, but if you see this movie, you’ll know what I meant. The movie does a fairly good job of showing the geography of stuff like this (and it’ll be important later on). Anyway, Charlie comments on all the activity and asks Max what the Cygnus is gearing up for. First off, Max can’t answer (which Charlie knows). Second, there’s no indication that this isn’t the normal day-to-day routine on board this ship. Of course, Charlie may be having some fun at Max’s expense, but if so, it would’ve been nice to see Dan give him an ugly look, silently telling him to knock it off.
They turn into a side corridor. I like the way the ship is done to look like a cavern, seeming to go on forever. Finally, Our Heroes make it to Parts Storage, which shows all of the shelves in recessed panels. This was probably done to save money (no need to have props on the shelves), but it fits the rest of the Cygnus’s set design: everything is clean and sterile. There’s a robot at a small control panel, apparently “sleeping.” Max knocks the robot to the ground, and we see that (1) this guy is clearly the same make (but older model) of Vincent, and (2) he is in terrible repair. Seriously, it’s a wonder he’s even movin’ around.
Dan turns to Charlie and tells him to handle things here; he wants to get back to the Palomino and start clearing out the broken stuff. Max tries to block his way, but Dan sidesteps him with a glib comment and continues. Charlie knows what Dan’s up to, and he distracts Max, reminding him that Reinhardt wanted Max to help get the replacement parts. Max is clearly not very bright, at least when making independent decisions, and Charlie takes advantage of that. While Max starts opening drawers up, Vincent tries to introduce himself to the old robot (and “Vincent” stands for “Vital Information Necessary CENTralized”; bro-ther!). Max turns and stares at the old robot, and the robot literally shakes in fear. Bro-THER! Yes, this will be a running gag, and yes, it’s already gotten old. (I know, Wall-E had the same gag. But that movie was more of a cartoon, and Wall-E himself was nearly mute; he had to use visual asides like that.) By the way, while the old robot looks a lot like Vincent would if someone crashed him then never bothered to repair him, there’s two differences. First, his eyes are sloped downward (compared to Vincent’s square eyes). Second, the top of Vincent’s head is a flattened dome. This robot’s head is molded to look like he’s wearing a porkpie hat. Seriously. Anyway, he refuses to talk and gets to work taking parts out.
Side trip here. Remember how I mentioned that a lot of stuff in this movie is a double-edged sword, a good thing and a bad thing at the same time? The robots are a perfect example of that. Not Max; he never fails to be scary. But Vincent and this older robot are a boon and a bane. Critics snorted at Vincent, making comparisons to R2-D2. That’s valid, to a point. The robots’ design has good and bad to it. The good: Vincent is clearly not a man in a robot suit. He has a non-human design, and the idea that he has several compartments that can open up to reveal various gadgets (having the right tool at the right time: priceless) isn’t bad. Also, the filmmakers wanted to try and differentiate Vincent from R2, so they add a little somethin’: Vincent’s ability to fly. Way cool. Only one problem. Now they have to show him hovering. In an interview on the DVD, Harrison Ellenshaw notes how they had a hell of a time hiding the wires (and didn’t always succeed). The other thing was, someone just had to go and cutesy Vincent up. Same thing with this other robot. I think Disney fell back on their old cartoon roots way too much in this movie, and it hurt, a lot. We now return to our regularly scheduled review.
Reinhardt leads the civilians in Our Heroes to one of the Cygnus’s power plants. He boasts that these power stations can generate “enough instant energy... to supply all of Earth.” (Would that we had this today, yes?) Alex and Kate are impressed, and they start fawning over Reinhardt, who loves the attention. No wonder he’s commanding a mile-long ship; you couldn’t house his ego in anything smaller. Harry hangs back, clearly smirking at Reinhardt’s hubris. As they go through the room, Harry is able to slip away unnoticed. He watches the others go, and it’s clear he has the same idea Dan did: why not take an unguided tour and find out some stuff on his own?
What follows is probably my favorite sequence in the whole film. And no, it’s not lost on me that there is almost no dialogue in the next six minutes or so.
Dan rides back toward his ship on a car that goes through the Main Corridor (in my opinion, MUCH more logical than those tubes). He looks down and sees six robe-bots carrying something, looking for all the world like pallbearers. The music picks up, a brooding, menacing tone. Dan stops the car and watches the robe-bots pass under him. He decides to try and find out where they’re going.
His search takes him through the old crew quarters of the ship. Here, the music becomes melancholy and wistful, with a bit of mystery to it. Not bad. The crew quarters is a wide hallway with small rooms lining both sides. The rooms themselves are small, with just enough room for a single bed, a desk, and a closet. Dan goes into one of the rooms and looks around, finally opening up the closet to find several old uniforms still hung up neatly. Hmmmmmmm.
He comes to the far end of the crew quarters hall and opens the door to find a large, cathedral-like chamber with a big window showing the outside, as the music gets all dark and brooding again. Two lines of robe-bots stand at attention while a couple more bots work with something at the center of the window. An object is ejected from the ship, heading off for the black hole. It’s clear that this is a funeral of some sort. Hmmmmmmmmm.
The door behind Dan snaps open, to reveal Max. Gulp. Ya gotta like Dan, he’s unflappable. He shrugs and says, “Must’ve made a wrong turn,” then heads back through crew quarters toward the car. Max watches Dan go, then turns to watch the robe-bots filing out of the room.*
Meanwhile.... Harry enters a large dome where green light floods in from outside. A lone robe-bot tends a large console at the far end of the room. Harry tries to make conversation with the bot, but it’s no good. “No, I guess not. Nah. I guess that would make you a little bit too real, wouldn’t it. That Reinhardt loves to play God, doesn’t he.” This is the one religious reference that works perfectly. And while Ernest Borgnine won’t count this as one of his better performances, I like his work in this scene. His face shows a combination of pity for the robe-bot and contempt for Reinhardt. The music is again both sad and mysterious, quite good for this scene. Harry decides to take a look and see what’s outside the dome.
It’s a giant greenhouse, a combination of a farm and a tropical paradise. Harry registers surprise at this (and he’ll explain why later) and turns to look at the robe-bot, but the bot has finished its job here and is leaving. And it has a bad limp. Harry gives a “The hell?” reaction and runs to try and catch up to the bot, but when he gets to the main door, the bot has disappeared. And the plot thickens....
*[I didn’t want to interrupt the flow of these two scenes, since they’re probably my favorite in the movie. But at the very end of Dan’s scene, we see the robe-bots filing out of the room... and if you look at the bottom right of the screen, the top of one bot’s head disappears under the matte painting. Oooooops. Maybe it’s not something you notice unless you’ve seen the movie almost two dozen times. But the FX work in The Black Hole has a lot of glitches. We’ll have blue-screen trouble later on, and we have an occasional matte gaffe like this one. In 1979, Disney’s in-house effects team was about as good as you could get, headed up by Peter Ellenshaw and Art Cruickshank, with mattes painted by Harrison Ellenshaw. I don’t think the effects team was responsible for any serious gaffes, though I could be wrong. My suspicion is that Gary Nelson simply wasn’t prepared to work with special effects to this degree, and it bit him on the ass. I’ll go into more details in Afterthoughts.]
Back to the Palomino. Dan-n-Charlie-n-Vincent work on repairing the ship as Dan tells the others about what he saw. He’s convinced that he was watching a funeral of some kind. Charlie muses that there might be some other crew members still on board, but he has no idea why Reinhardt wouldn’t come clean about them. Charlie’s attitude is much too blasé, and Vincent’s proverb is fitting for once. Dan’s with Vincent: whatever’s going on, Our Heroes probably don’t want to stick around too long. Vincent then goes back into annoying mode, tossing off another proverb (and I liked the look of annoyance on Charlie’s face: “yeah, right, whatever, Bartlett”).
Funny how these scenes I can describe briefly always seem to have a side trip built in. As annoying as Vincent is, I actually like the little silver twerp. I wasn’t sure why, until I read a comment on [url="http://darthsanddroids.net"]Darths and Droids[/url] (and if you’re not familiar with that site, go there! It’s priceless!). The site’s creators said that one of their big challenges was to make Jar Jar Binks likeable. Interestingly, they did it by having Jar Jar annoy the other characters. So it is here. Vincent makes a quote, and he usually either gets undermined, or someone (usually Charlie) rolls his eyes. It shouldn’t work, but it does. Of course, there’s another reason Vincent is likeable. First off, for all the know-it-all attitude he has, he does seem to be pretty smart. Second, he’s demonstrated that he’ll jump between you and a threat. In other words, he’s good to have around in a scrape. So he’s not quite OCR. (The robot with the porkpie hat will be similar.)
Back to the Command Tower. Reinhardt, Kate, and Alex marvel at the black hole. Kate calls it a “long dark tunnel to nowhere.” Reinhardt counters, “Or somewhere.” He gets all coy, promising to explain what he’s talkin’ about over dinner. It’s very clear that Alex’s hero-worship is going overboard, and he doesn’t want to leave. It’s also clear that Kate sees this and doesn’t like it.
I could do a Lyz Kingsley every five minutes here, but I’ll leave it to her to do that if she ever reviews this film. For this review, let’s give The Black Hole a king-sized mulligan and assume that, in this universe, a black hole is a giant swirling whirlpool that can lead (theoretically) to an interdimensional tunnel (closer to a wormhole), and NOT a collapsed star that has become so dense that its gravitational power is truly unbelievable. Hey, if we can buy aliens that look just like us (albeit with pointed ears), time travel, and faster-than-light travel, why not? |
Edited by - BradH812 on 08/14/2008 8:56:58 PM |
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BradH812
Holy Cardinal and Five Star General of the Righteous Knighthood of Jabootu
USA
1294 Posts |
Posted - 08/04/2008 : 7:28:54 PM
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Dan, Charlie, and Vincent stroll through a side corridor, arguing. Vincent says he should be with them for dinner; Charlie doesn’t like the idea of Vincent trying to pick a fight with Max. Vincent gets all Scrappy-Doo, saying he can handle Max, prompting Charlie to call him on his overconfidence. Vincent tries yet another proverb, and Dan basically tells him to cool it.
They pass by a room filled with sentries, who are passing the time by having the future version of skeet shooting contests. I kinda like the idea that even robots need to let out a little steam every now and then. Dan and Charlie talk Vincent into going in and killing some time while they have dinner, then they continue on their way.
The sentry to beat in this target shoot is a sleek, black-and-silver guy with chrome-plated guns and a medal on his chest. He’s a good shot, and he clearly enjoys showing off.* Vincent spots Porkpie Hat trying not to draw too much attention. He goes over and breaks the ice, asking about “the flashy black hat.” Porkpie responds that the sentry’s name is STAR: Special Troops Armed Regiment. Bro-ther! Porkpie’s voice? Slim Pickens. Seriously. (The surprise? He ain’t bad as a robot.) Star was the prototype for the sentries, and he was Big Robot On Cygnus until Reinhardt built Max. Star wins his tourney, twirling his guns. Vincent comments, “He’s sharp, but we’re sharper.” Then Porkpie reveals that he took Star on once... and won. Star got so pissed that he “blew a fuse. He got his revenge, though. He did things to me that I sure don’t like to think about.” And at this, Porkpie starts that cutesy shaking again.
*[The laser guns are another example of cool/goofy. Each gun has two barrels, one overhand, and one underhand. Both fire at the same time. Ken Begg ripped into the underhand guns in Battlefield Earth, noting that they’d be impossible to aim. That probably goes here, too. Still, the lasers look a lot more bad-ass, at least, and they have an interesting addition. One is meant to carry two guns, firing them two-fisted, as he sentries do. See? Cool and goofy at the same time. You decide which side wins out.]
When Reinhardt invites you to dinner, he really invites you to dinner. The dining room is done up to look like it’s part of a mansion: chandeliers, paintings, wood paneling, deep pile carpet, and a robe-bot butler. Of course, most mansions don’t have a bay window that commands a view of a mile-long spaceship with a giant blue whirlpool off in the distance. In several shots, you’ll see a slight shimmer or a thin blue line giving away the bluescreen effect. Damn. When Reinhardt is in front of the bluescreen, his bushy hair and beard will cause more glitches. Damn damn. Again, I suspect that this was more due to the limitations of the technology and Gary Nelson’s inexperience in working with visual effects than to lack of competence on the part of the effects team.
Anyhoo, Reinhardt tells Our Heroes not to go off on their own again, on the pretext that it’s for their own safety. He then makes some chitchat with Harry, subtly mocking Harry’s profession: “Nothing ever changes. Same news, different names.” He then notes that dinner has been prepared from his “own personal garden.” (I’ll assume that either Reinhardt’s a vegetarian or that in the future synthetic meat will be indistinguishable from the real bloody stuff.) Harry makes an obvious comment about how the agricultural station used to be big enough to feed the whole crew. Reinhardt says that nowadays it’s much smaller. He asks Dan how the repairs are going, noting that the parts he’s supplying are nearly as old as the wine (why do I like the idea of this ship having its own wine cellar?). Dan says the parts are workin’ fine and that they’re almost ready to get out of Reinhardt’s hair. Alex balks at this, saying he’d like to stay a little longer, but Dan shoots it down: it’s time to go home.
Then we get to the grand moment. Reinhardt makes the announcement:
Reinhardt: Tonight, my friends, we stand on the brink of a feat unparalleled in space exploration. If the data on my returning probe ship matches my computerized calculations, I will travel where no man has dared to go.”
Alex: Into the black hole??
[If you’ve seen this movie, let’s all say it together; you know you want to.]
Reinhardt: In.... Through.... And beyond!
Harry laughs at this, calling it impossible. Reinhardt gives the oh-so corny line: “The word ‘impossible’ is only found in a dictionary of fools.” (Um, Hans, old boy, it’s in Merriam-Webster.)
Back to the shooting gallery. Porkpie reveals he’s the last of his kind on board, and the sentries consider him to be an old freak. Star approaches, challenging the old guy to a rematch. Vincent says, “As an old war hero once said, damn the torpedoes! Full speed ahead.” Porkpie retorts, “He also said somethin’ about goin’ in harm’s way.” Star and Porkpie take their shots, and we learn that Vincent has sussed out Porkpie’s proper name: Bob. (Still photos show that Bob has a nameplate on his chest, so no problem there. But there’s a continuity error: Bob will introduce himself formally in a few minutes, even though he and Vincent are on a first-name basis already. Oh, and Bob will sometimes be referred to as “Old Bob.” Ick.) Bob’s a good shot, but Star wins the match by cheating — and he makes no attempt to hide it. No big surprise: bullies are terrified of a fair fight, and their toadies are too dumb to know the difference. Vincent’s had enough. He goes up to Star and gives an “I challenge!” line. Star turns to look at the other sentries (and the sentries looking among themselves is goofy but effective). Vincent goes to power up his guns (and a later line will note that this is only temporary, so it’s okay), as Star shows through body language that he’s nervous as hell, now that he’s taking on someone who won’t be kicked around (remember, bullies hate fair fights).* And Bob does that stupid shaking thing again.
*[Star was played by Tommy McLoughlin, who also headed up the stunt team for this film. McLoughlin is also a mime, and he did a very good job here of giving Star a little personality with no dialogue or facial expressions.]
A small ship comes toward us, heading away from the black hole and toward the Cygnus. A quick shot of Max in the Command Tower monitoring the probe ship’s course, and it’s back to the dining room.
Dan notes that the probe ship hasn’t actually gone into the black hole on these dry runs. So what makes Reinhardt so sure this whole idea’s gonna work? Good point, Cap’n. Alex comes to Reinhardt’s defense, saying that he thinks the Cygnus’s anti-grav will be able to take it. Big assumption, there, Alex. Remember, black holes is wicked powerful. Reinhardt’s explanation of what he plans to do is pure BS, but I’ll let it go. Movie physics. Gotta love ’em.
One nice thing about this back-and-forth cutting between the two scenes: it edits out the boring stuff. We’re able to cut through the chitchat and get to the meat of the scene, and the audience can fill the gaps in well enough. Not half bad. Let’s get back to the shooting match.
Vincent is having a fine ol’ time eating Star’s lunch, and tossing an insult or two Star’s way. Star tries for a few trick shots, so Vincent knocks him out of the way, one-ups Star, wins the match, then adds insult to injury by shooting off Star’s medal. (I don’t know if the filmmakers intended this or just got lucky, but there’s a nice subtle reminder that Vincent isn’t property armed here: his lasers drill through Star’s medal but do no damage to Star himself.) Star starts to throw a robotic tantrum as Vincent rattles off a couple of proverbs, basically telling Star to kiss his ass. Star blows a fuse again and passes out. As the sentries crowd around Star, Bob sidles up to Vincent, whispers that they need to talk in private, and ducks out unnoticed.
We have another shot of the probe nearing the Cygnus, and again, I like the idea of having the ships be silhouettes against the starfield. Then we go back to the dining room. Alex is summing it up: Reinhardt wants the Palomino to hang around as long as possible, getting the Cygnus’s trip into the hole on record and telling the people of Earth about it. Reinhardt confirms this. Maximillian barges in, and Reinhardt guesses what’s up: the probe’s coming in. He excuses himself and leaves with Max. Our Heroes watch them go, and once Reinhardt is out of earshot, Charlie sums up his opinion of the guy: “Cuckoo as a Swiss clock.”
We go back to Parts Storage, where Bob is waiting for Vincent, doing that damn shaking thing again. I am happy to report that this is the last time we’ll see him do this. Well, second-to-last, and the one last time we’ll see him do it will be a real whopper. Bob is clearly not on Reinhardt’s side, and he’s ready to dish the dirt. Vincent asks Bob if he can “permanently” re-arm him. Yep. I’d think an armory would be a better place to find stored guns, but what the hell. Bob then tells Vincent, “You and your friends are in grave danger. Reinhardt only turned the lights on to prevent any damage to the Cygnus. This is a death ship.”
Two things I noticed. First, there’s some confusion. It was hinted earlier that Reinhardt may have been doing dry runs, prepping to go into the black hole for sometime, and has been waiting for a possible visit from another ship so he could rub his trip in Earth’s face. It’s a steep assumption, but it does go a long way in explaining the co-inky-dink of Our Heroes happening on the ship on the very day it’s gonna go into the hole. Here, though, Bob hints that Reinhardt would’ve happily let Our Heroes go their merry way if they weren’t trying to find a way to dock and make repairs. Clumsy.
Second, while Bob’s line, “This is a death ship” is both clichéd and over the-top, Slim Pickens’s line reading makes it work. Pickens never tries to get cute; he keeps his performance simple and matter-of-fact, turning Bob from a caricature into something approaching a full-bodied character.
In the dining room, Kate gives the old line, “He’s walking a tightrope between genius and insanity.” Unlike Pickens, Mimieux couldn’t make this line work. Dan votes for insanity, and Alex balks. Harry brings up seeing the “tiny little” greenhouse, which Alex says now functions as a natural air scrubber. Again, we have a combo of good and bad. Ken Begg noted in his review of Freddy vs. Jason how you don’t often see the heroes of a pic getting together and comparing notes, and he found it refreshing to see the leads in that movie do just that. Same thing here. But I really don’t buy Alex jumping on Reinhardt’s bandwagon to the degree that he does. Anyway, Dan and Harry tell about their solo trips in the Cygnus, bringing up the funeral and the gimpy robe-bot. By now, the audience may well know exactly what’s going on here, but I understand if Our Heroes are in denial. The truth is pretty disturbing. Alex seems to be wearing blinders here, and he continues to defend Reinhardt. Dan finally cuts to the chase: whatever’s going on, he doesn’t want any part of it. Best course of action is to get the hell out of Dodge. Harry thinks he has a better idea: why not try and take over the ship? After all, Alex and Kate can figure out how to work the controls, and “the three of us can take care of Reinhardt and that pet monster of his.” Harry clearly is looking for fame and fortune, wanting to return home with a mile-long spaceship in tow: “Looky what we found!” Dan nixes it out of hand, seeing just how dumb the idea is.
By the way, there’s another glitch in the FX. We see an exterior view of the dining room; it’s on a small tower with scaffolding underneath... but there’s no way in or out. Oops! This is something you might not notice on first viewing. Twenty-first, however.... By the way, if you watch this movie, get a widescreen copy. The DP, Frank Phillips, made good use of the format, and the pan-and-scan version murders the cinematography.
A quick shot of the probe coming in for a landing, and we go to a new part of the ship. Bob leads Vincent into what was once the ship’s infirmary. The room now has several circular rotating tables, each with cots carrying robe-bots, minus the robes, under a series of lasers which shoot into their foreheads. Bob reveals the truth: the robe-bots aren’t robots at all, they’re humanoids. “These poor creatures are what’s left of the crew.... They’re more robot than human.” Gulp. The door behind Vincent-n-Bob opens to reveal two sentries. Vincent whirls and shoots them both, taking them apart. They then make to get rid of the remains.
The probe has docked, and an airlock tunnel hooks up with it. Reinhardt goes to check the flight log, and the silver-clad humanoid starts to follow Max to be debriefed. Meanwhile, Vincent and Bob hide what’s left of the two sentries. It’s a pretty shoddy job, but remember, they’re working against the clock here. Bob doesn’t know these two sentries’ schedule, so he doesn’t know how long before they’ll be missed. It’s pretty obvious: Our Heroes don’t have much time to get out.
Alex is summing up his defense of the Good Doctor, and he’s basically trumpeting Reinhardt’s end-justifies-the-means credo (but more subtly). Dan’s not hearing any of it. Kate interrupts: Vincent has sent her an ESP message, telling her he wants to see Dan on the Palomino, pronto. Clumsy. The writers could’ve had Vincent tell her to get everyone back, saying it was an emergency (and he’d be right). Damn. Dan and Charlie head back, with Harry tagging along, narrowly avoiding running into Max and the humanoid pilot.
Kate susses out that Alex wants to leave the crew and join Reinhardt on this crazy trip he’s about to take. Reinhardt comes into the room, quoting from Genesis (ay-yi-yi), and marveling at the black hole before realizing there’s only two other people in the room. At first he starts to ask about them going against their little no-more-solo-trips agreement, but he’s much more interested in Kate’s telepathy with Vincent. He gives Alex a very large book, saying that it’s a summary of all the theories and calculations he’s made over the years, and he want Alex to take it back, just in case. Here, again, he intimates that he’s been ready to go into the hole for a long time, but has been waiting for someone to monitor the journey; he throws out some scientifical terms that the writers probably didn’t understand (and are now obsolete). Reinhardt then reveals his own theory of what’s on the other side of the black hole: another universe where there are no laws of nature, and where one can live forever.
Dan, Charlie, and Harry meet Vincent and Bob in the reception area outside Palomino. Bob gives the Cliff’s-Notes version of the Cygnus backstory, and this is the right way to do a straight expo scene: cut to the chase and keep it brief. “The officer the crew trusted most was Frank McRae. They turned to him when Reinhardt ignored the order to return home. They tried to take control of the Cygnus. Reinhardt called it mutiny and killed Mr. McRae. [The others] were captured by the sentry robots and are still on board.” Now THAT’s efficient. The downside is, Harry and Charlie act surprised to learn that the humanoid robots are the Cygnus crew zombiefied. I can understand if they are in denial and didn’t want to accept this, but they never made the connection at all. Dan makes his first (and only) stupid move in the movie: he decides to try Harry’s plan. Harry backs away from his idea: it’ll never work against the whole group of sentry robots. (Harry will be revealed to be a king-sized coward in a bit, but here he makes perfect sense.) Bob adds that they won’t be doing the humanoids a favor: the damage is permanent. Vincent tells Dan about the run-in with those two sentries. That’s all Dan needs. He tells Charlie to get the ship ready for take-off on a moment’s notice, then he tells Vincent to give Kate a phone call; he wants her and Alex back, double-time. We notice that Dan and Charlie carry a couple of Cygnus-issue guns; one can assume that Vincent figured “ya never know if we’ll need ’em” and took them off the busted sentries.
Reinhardt, Kate, and Alex return to the command tower. Alex starts to ask Reinhardt if he can go along. Kate tells Alex it’s time to go: the others are ready to leave. There’s a nice moment where Reinhardt studies Kate (what does he suspect?) then he orders that the ships reactors get prepped. Kate takes Alex aside and tries to talk him out of doing this, but Alex is gone, babe, gone. Nope, I still don’t buy it, and Anthony Perkins’s acting doesn’t help. He sleepwalks through this scene. (Not long after this, Perkins played the villain in ffolkes. He should’ve switched his over-the-top performance in that film with his job in this movie; both films would’ve been better.)
Harry is starting to panic. He tells Dan that they may not be able to wait for Alex. Dan thinks about this for a moment, then tells Vincent to tell Kate to get out of there, leaving Alex behind if she has to (nope, still don’t buy this), and to tell her why.
We cut to Kate in the command tower as we hear that Theremin-on-the-fritz sound effect. It wasn’t needed: the camerawork and Yvette Mimieux’s performance were enough. Kate’s eyes dart around, looking at all the humanoids, and her face says it all: Holy sh!t!!
Reinhardt starts up the reactors, and we see a shot of these things pulsing blue. It looks kinda cheesy today, but it’s setting up a later scene. Back on board the Palomino, Harry is starting to go into full panic mode, and Dan finally loses his temper, yelling at Harry to shut up.
Kate calls Alex over while Reinhardt is distracted, and she quickly whispers the short version of what she’s learned. Reinhardt comes up on them, asking what’s up. He then reveals that he wants Kate, not Alex, to go with him. (It’s never stated outright in the film why he wanted her, but it is in the novelization. Reinhardt wants Kate to be able to send ESP messages back to Vincent, ensuring Reinhardt will have bragging rights.) While Reinhardt and Kate get into a yes-no argument, Alex gets a look on his face that says, “Gee, do ya think I had this figured wrong?” He goes to one of the robe-bots and pulls off the silver face plate.
Gulp.
It’s a human face, barely more than a skull, and it draws in a breath as Alex watches.
This bit is an almost shot-for-shot reference to the climax in Psycho... except that here, Anthony Perkins is the good guy. Taken as an inside gag, it’s pretty damn funny. Taken straight... it’s creepy as hell. This is a Disney movie?! Reinhardt notices what Alex is doing, and when Kate sees the humanoid, her reaction is pretty reasonable: she has to cover her mouth to keep from throwing up. (Remember, two of these things served Our Heroes dinner earlier that evening.) Reinhardt tries to BS Alex (including throwing out another religious reference), but it ain’t workin’ no more. Alex has seen enough, and he and Kate try to get out. The elevator door closes before they can reach it, and Reinhardt yells for Max. Here we go.
Now, remember, this movie came from a studio that had, up to now, made only G-rated films. Max advances on Kate and Alex, starting up his blender-blade hands. Alex gets between Max and Kate, holding up that large book as a shield. It doesn’t even slow Max down. We get a close-up of the Cuisinart hand plowing right through the book, then we tilt up to a close up of Alex’s face. The blades slow down, Alex’s eyes bug out, he starts to shake violently, he opens his mouth to scream... and all that comes out is a strangled, gurgling sound. *shudder* And the viewer knows exactly what Max is doing to him off-screen. Kate can do nothing but watch in horror as Alex goes down, landing on an instrument panel and shorting it out. Reinhardt says that Max went a little too far (and that’s the only slap on the wrist he gives him), and Max lowers the Cuisinart and backs away. Damn. Continuity error. The blades don’t have a drop of blood on them. Looks like Disney wasn’t ready to go quite that far yet.
Reinhardt looks down at Alex’s body then whispers to Kate that he’s scared of Max. Some critics laughed at this, but I always thought it was another attempt by Reinhardt to BS here. Her response is pretty lame. I know that Disney didn’t want to make the profanity in their first PG movie too harsh. Still, telling Reinhardt to go eff himself wouldn’t be out of line. Shoot, she could’ve told him to go to hell. Actually, it doesn’t matter; anything Kate says here will be ineffective, and she and Reinhardt both know it. The elevator opens, and two sentries step out. Reinhardt looks at Kate and tells the sentries to take her to Medical. I liked the looks on Kate and Reinhardt’s faces; both know exactly what he has planned for her.
Reinhardt calls the Palomino, telling them that Alex and Kate have chosen to stay with him. Harry’s about to buy this, but Vincent gets a message from Kate and clues the others in on what’s happening (goooood thinking ahead, there, Hans, old boy! Actually, I’ll get into the many, many blunders Reinhardt makes in Afterthoughts.) Dan leaps into action, heading for the door.
Reinhardt gives the order to set course, and we have a good shot of the Cygnus swinging around until the black hole is dead ahead. The music here is pretty good, a bass-heavy, syncopated cue that would be right at home in a James Bond flick.
Back in Reception, Dan tells Charlie to stay behind with Harry. If they don’t make it back in a set amount of time, Charlie and Harry are to get outta here. Charlie agrees, reluctantly.
As Kate is escorted into the Infirmary, the sentries find the robots Vincent wasted. They report their findings to Reinhardt, who muses, “The time has come to liquidate our guests.” Other than stepping up patrols on the ship and sounding an alarm, though, he does very little.
The alarm does indeed go off, and Our Heroes make their way, avoiding a sentry patrol. And back at the Command Tower, Reinhardt gives the order to kick the engines into gear. Ahhhhhhhhhh, YES!
What follows is an awsome shot of the Cygnus getting underway. Seriously, this is great. Beautiful effects work and camera movement, and you really believe that each of those engines is the size of two football fields. I wanted to watch this bit over and over.
Kate’s strapped in on that circular gurney, and she’s moved around under one of the surgical lasers. They couldn’t leave well enough alone: the filmmakers try to ratchet up the suspense by having the lasers start to do their work (sloppy; in a minute we’ll see that those lasers should’ve lobotomized her in a half-second). Dan, Vincent, and Bob come rushing in in the nick of time and shoot down the laser. Dammit, the music kills the mood. That overture plays again here, and it’s not appropriate (I’m gonna call this music the Hero Theme). The sentries aren’t that good at fighting, but they give it a shot. Our Heroes kick ass and take names, knocking out the sentries and shutting down the operating table. There is one pretty neat moment where a sentry starts fighting hand-to-hand with Dan. Dan realizes that it’s not a good idea to try punching out someone whose head is made of iron, so he gets the sentry in a wrestling hold and forces it under one of the surgical lasers, giving new meaning to the phrase “in your face.” So now Kate’s free, and Dan calls Charlie and lets him know. Harry does some more fretting, wanting to get underway.
Ah. Our Heroes have decided to do the old Star Wars trick, disguising themselves as the enemy. They put on some humanoid cloaks and faceplates and try to sneak out. Yeah, it’s a rip-off, but the movie wins some points by having the trick fail almost from the word go. They knock a couple of sentries out and run for it, but the whole thing was caught on security cam. Reinhardt watches this, then tells Max (who is the sentries’ commander) to tell the sentries to fire on any humanoids in that area.
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Edited by - BradH812 on 08/13/2008 8:42:35 PM |
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BradH812
Holy Cardinal and Five Star General of the Righteous Knighthood of Jabootu
USA
1294 Posts |
Posted - 08/04/2008 : 7:30:48 PM
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What follows should have been the highlight of the movie. Here’s the scene. Our Heroes try crossing a bridge over the Main Corridor. One bridge down (maybe twenty or thirty yards or so), a group of about a dozen sentries has lined up. The sentries start taking shots at Our Heroes, who scramble down to the floor of the Main Corridor, using the storage containers as cover. Ah, a little Redcoats versus Colonists action! Cool! And to make things cooler, remember, Our Heroes have a little somethin’ extra: Vincent and Bob can fly. With that, Vincent and Bob go into action, doing an aerial attack from behind, and kicking ass and chewing bubble gum (and robots don’t chew bubble-gum). How can you lose?
Amazingly, these scene is a wash-out. I blame Gary Nelson for this; he’s the director, and he should’ve worked this out better. First of all, we have the Hero Theme, which doesn’t work at all in these bit. Much too cheerful and not nearly fast enough (actually, John Barry very rarely writes any fast-paced music, if memory serves). Second, and more damning, the pacing of the scene itself is way off. It starts out okay, but when Vincent and Bob start flyin’, they move very slowly, turning in lazy arcs. (This scene involves one of the few moments where Vincent-n-Bob fly via blue screen work, and someone goofed and showed a mooring arm holding Vincent in place in one shot. Crikey!) Of course, the sentries don’t come close to hitting them. Now, I know it’s an unwritten rule that the bad guys’ aim has to be worse than the good guys’, and it’s been established that Our Heroes can shoot circles around these guys, but man! The sentries couldn’t hit the broad side of a barn from the inside!
There are a couple of good moments here. At one point, Kate and Dan aim for the bridge the sentries are standing on, knocking out part of it and sending a robot or two crashing down. Then Bob flies between two sentries, and they end up shooting each other (did Sean Bean’s character in Ronin program these droids??). Finally, as Our Heroes are nearly done moppin’ up, one of the sentries wings Bob. Vincent is able to catch him, and Bob’s not hurt too bad, but later shots will show Our Heroes helping him along. Walking wounded. And it takes some of the wirework out. I’ll give the filmmakers points for that.
Hey, d’ya wanna imitate the lasers in the movie? When they’re firing fast, they make a sound like “twemp-i-ti-TAH!” and when they’re firing slow, they sound like “tump-tump-tump-TUMP!” Do it with me. Twemp-i-ti-TAH! Tump-tump-tump-TUMP!
Stop laughing!
So, they’re done here, and they move on. The fight was caught on another security camera, and Reinhardt whirls on Max and gives Big Red a dressing down, basically saying, “Hey, man, your sentries suck!” Can’t argue with him on that. He then reveals that if Our Heroes make it back to their ship, he wants it blown up... making sure first that its far enough away to avoid the Cygnus getting hit by the shrapnel.
We have an exterior shot of the Cygnus getting closer to the black hole. They’re getting closer to the accretion disc, and we can see that the center of the disc is bright red, not blue.
Back to Our Heroes. They’re getting close to Reception, but a group of about six or seven sentries blocks their path. These sentries aren’t much at shooting either, but their plan is halfway competent: get in a good position and lay down fire (Twemp-i-ti-TAH! Tump-tump-tump-TUMP!) to keep Our Heroes from moving forward. Dan radios Charlie, telling him to be ready for them to come runnin’. (The music here is much more appropriate. It’s a simple, repeating, rhythmic cue that’s much more tense than the Hero Theme; it’ll be used a couple more times near the end.) Problem is, the corridor ahead is a bottleneck. Dan and Kate get a couple of the sentries, but there are too many of them, and Our Heroes won’t be able to break through. Dan sucks it up and gives the order to Charlie: get moving.
Charlie does indeed get moving. He books it out of the Palomino, over Harry’s objections, and into the Reception Area, Harry following close behind. The lone sentry there tries to get a shot, but Charlie takes him out. Harry goes down during the fight, claiming he has a busted leg. He says he can make it back to the ship, so Charlie head on. The minute Charlie’s out of sight, Harry jumps to his feet and sprints back to the ship. Rat-f*** sumbitch.
The sentries have one problem with their strategy: they don’t watch their back. Charlie comes running in whoopin’ and hollerin’, and between his firing and Dan’s, they take the sentries out lickety-splat. Our Heroes then haul it back to Reception, but....
Harry knows how to start the ship up (which I buy; one can assume he’s learned a few things from a year plus of observation). The Palomino’s engines fire, and there’s a great shot of Our Heroes watching in dismay as their ship lifts clear of the docking area. Harry’s plan has one teensy little problem, though: although he can start the ship up, he can’t, you know, fly it.
What comes next is still pretty impressive, in my book.
Reinhardt sees the Palomino starting to turn back. He tells Max not to wait; take the ship out now! Max’s aim is nearly as bad as the sentries’: the Cygnus’s guns graze the Palomino, knocking out on of its engines. The Palomino careens out of control, then plows into the side of the Cygnus, blowing itself to hell and taking a chunk of the larger ship (including one of its power plants) with it.
Damn. I said, damn. That’s right, true believers, the heroes’ ship got blowed up. Star Trek wouldn’t do that for another five years, and Star Wars never did it.
After getting knocked to the ground by the impact, Our Heroes try to pick themselves up. Dan tries to play apologist for Harry, but Charlie ain’t buyin’ it, and he’s in no mood to mourn the late Harry Booth. I’m with Charlie: Harry was a yellow bastard who basically signed the others’ death warrant to try to save his own hide. So, basically, Our Heroes are screwed six ways to Sunday. Vincent starts rattling off proverbs, and Charlie’s had it up to here with that, but Dan susses out what Vincent’s driving at: they can still escape, using the probe ship.
Now, in a few seconds, the Cygnus will run into a new problem, and the movie will take a 90-degree turn. All the little ideas and attempts at depth will be abandoned, and Reinhardt and Max will be shunted to the side (until the end). Basically, the movie will stop being Star Wars meets 20,000 Leagues and will turn into a sort of Poseidon Adventure in space, with Our Heroes running like hell to escape while the Cygnus gets the eighties-heavy-metal-icon-meets-five-star hotel-room treatment. In other words, it’s the precursor to the modern “blow crap up and the hell with everything else” style of action movies.
The crazy thing is, it works. After a very shaky start. |
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BradH812
Holy Cardinal and Five Star General of the Righteous Knighthood of Jabootu
USA
1294 Posts |
Posted - 08/04/2008 : 7:40:21 PM
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A swarm of glowing red meteors overtakes the Cygnus. I don’t know how accurate this is, but it works well enough, and it’s pretty obvious the ship is in trouble now. As Our Heroes make it out of Reception, one meteor hits the Reception dome, taking it out. Vincent informs us helpfully that a “meteorite” just hit. Thanks, Vince. They get in a tube car, and Vincent notes that it’s a whole storm, pulled in by the black hole. Thanks, Vince.
What follows next is the single worst effects shot in the movie (in my opinion) and the most ridiculous scene to boot. A meteor hits the tube, splitting it open. Our Heroes’ car does a loop-the-loop (via a VERY poor bluescreen shot) and comes to a stop just short of the hole in the tube. You heard that right, they stand and look at an opening that exposes them to a vacuum! Oh, Lordy! Hold on a sec! (rustling and bumping) Whew! That was close! Sorry about that, I needed to get some old towels under Food’s rump before the bleeding started. Anyway, Our Heroes make tracks back and try the Main Corridor, leading to what is probably the most memorable shot in the movie.
A big round meteor crashes into the top of the Cygnus, goes into the Main Corridor, and starts to roll. Okay, this is almost as ludicrous as the tube-car scene, but I don’t care. This is bloody awesome! Our Heroes bust their asses getting across a bridge, making it just before the meteor crushes the bridge. Yes, I know, there’s a continuity goof: a strut under the bridge disappears when we go to a closer shot of Our Heroes falling on their faces and scrambling to get up. I don’t care. I love this scene. And the wide shot is seamless. It really looks like Our Heroes (or their stunt doubles) are really running for their lives before a hundred-foot wide ball of fire overtakes them. Bitchin’! This movie beat Raiders of the Lost Ark by a year and a half!
Our Heroes aren’t gettin’ a minute of rest. They beat feet into the greenhouse, four sentries hot on their trail. The gunfight here isn’t bad, mainly because Our Heroes and the sentries keep moving while shootin’. (Twemp-i-tump! Twemp-i-tump! Tump-tump-tump-TUMP!) One of the sentries grazes Bob with a shot (poor guy; he keeps taking all the hits), but he gets back at him: he shoots a palm tree, which crushes two sentries underneath.
Well, we’re in a meteor storm, so ya know we gots to have a meteor hit here. Blam-o! The rock hits, punches a hole in the ceiling, and we got ourselves a combination of blizzard, hurricane, and decompression. Our Heroes fight their way to the far door (with Bob almost getting pulled out and doing a no-save-yourself bit), with the sentries still tryin’ to shoot ’em. Dan and Charlie tag the last two sentries, blowing one robot’s head off. The sentries get sucked out of the ship. (Of course, this undermines any scene where Our Heroes are outside the ship without spacesuits. My vote: they shoulda kept this scene in and rewritten the others.) They get the far door open and make it out. Aw, naw, Bob starts shaking again... shivering from the cold. Knock off the cartoon bits, willya, movie?
We have a couple more external shots of the meteor storm kicking the living crap out of the Cygnus, then a few more shots of Our Heroes running like hell. They do so much running in the last twenty minutes or so of the movie that you wouldn’t be surprised to see Franka Potente (complete with Day-Glo orange hair and sexy-cute belly tattoo) drop in and join the fun.
One meteor barely misses the Command Tower, grazing its radio antenna. On the bridge, Reinhardt is jostled around, and several of the humanoids are injured or killed when they fall off the bridge’s mezzanine. Reinhardt isn’t even slowing down. We get a shot of Reinhardt (which is pure B movie heaven; it’s a great shot) ordering, “Increase power to maximum! We are going through!!!” We get a shot of the reactors kicking it up to 11, and they’re beginning to glitch.
Outside, the last of the meteors gets past, and the Cygnus continues on its way. Inside, Our Heroes take a very brief sigh of relief that at least they’re out of that funhouse.
In the Command Tower, the main monitor starts flashing a warning: Reinhardt’s pushing the ship too far. As if to prove the point, one of the engines blows, and a support beam in the bridge crashes down, taking out a couple of humanoids.
The reactors are now glitching badly, and they make a noise as if to say, “Uncle!” The power center goes haywire for a couple of seconds, then....
Boom.
Actually, I’d think a power plant that could light all of Earth would make a much bigger ka-boom than that, big enough to vaporize the Cygnus and everything within two hundred miles of it. Still, this is an impressive blast. The instant the power plant goes up, the entire ship starts to shake, rattle, ’n’ roll. Bye bye anti-grav.
We get an external view of the Cygnus, which is now drifting out of control. The black hole now looks like a big red whirlpool, and a violent one at that. Realistic? I doubt it. Menacing? Yep. The ship is all twisted, and it clearly won’t last very long.
Reinhardt calls Max down. He looks at the control panels and wires sparking around the bridge, then calmly tells Max to prep the probe. Max heads for the elevator, and Reinhardt takes one last look around. And that’s when that big monitor tears free of its moorings and crashed down on top of Reinhardt. Yowch! Reinhardt calls for Max to help, but Max is already in the elevator.* He then tries to get the humanoids to help him, but the zombies continue to do their work, oblivious to Reinhardts pleas, or to the carnage around them. Poetic justice, I says. By the way, that goes double for Reinhardt. It’s pretty clear that monitor did some serious damage, certainly snapping Reinhardt’s spine and probably causing major internal injuries. But since the Infirmary is now a zombie factory, it wouldn’t do Reinhardt much good even if he could get out.
*[You might note that Max clearly sees Reinhardt in distress and does nothing to help him. Maybe Max had had enough of being Reinhardt’s toady and decided to leave him behind, but I always thought that Max, who wasn’t great at thinking for himself, was following orders: prep the probe, then come back and help his master. Again, poetic justice.]
Our Heroes make it to the hallway leading to the probe. They get near the far end.... Uh oh! Max beat them to it! He opens fire, and Bob takes a full hit to the chest. Bob goes down, and Charlie and Vincent start shooting at Max. In a confusing bit, Charlie somehow loses his guns (I think Max shot and hit them, but it’s not clear). Vincent gets Max’s guns and knocks them out. One problem: Max’s armor plating is made of tougher stuff; Vincent’s shots bounce off. Max advances, bringing out his weapon of choice, the Cuisinarts. Vincent charges and head-butts Max, knocking him against a far wall. Our Heroes make a break for it, going out the door and outside the ship. I’ll get into this little gaffe in a minute. Max brings down the Cuisinarts and knocks Vincent back. Maybe it’s the sound of his hover jets going nuts for a second, but when Vincent goes somersaulting back, there’s a cartoonline “woo-woo-woo” sound effect. Cut it out, willya movie?! For the next few minutes, we’re gonna be playing red-light green light: a really good bit will be followed by a really goofy bit, and vice versa.
Back to it getting good. Vincent fires a few more shots, but no go. Finally, he realizes that Max is more than he can handle. He turns tail and runs, Max in hot pursuit. Vincent ducks through an opening in the hull, making his way outside. Max crashes through, not even slowing down. Vincent keeps shooting, probably more out of desperation than anything else. Finally, Max catches up and gets Vincent in a bear hug. Hard to tell if Max is trying to crush Vincent or electrocute him, but there ARE some animated electricity lines coming from Max here.
Crikey. Vincent had to get cute. He does the flip-his-lid thing, then turns his head all the way around, a la Linda Blair. Oh yeah, he’s cross-eyed in this shot. Dammit, movie, STOP THAT!
The movie gets back in my good graces fast. As I said before, I wish they’d shown this gadget of Vincent’s earlier, so it wouldn’t look like a deus ex machina, but it’s easy to forgive, since this is so damn awesome.
A little door in Vincent’s chest opens, and a small drill extends. The drill must be diamond-tipped, because it bores right through Max’s armer plating, going deeper and deeper. Max begins to smoke and spark, and he lets out an electronic scream. That’s right, sports fans, Vincent is doing to Max exactly what Max did to Alex. Yes! A few more seconds of this, then Vincent pulls back. Max goes tumbling away, falling toward the black hole, glitching, sparking, and screaming in agony. Oh yeah.
Serves you right, you son of a bitch.
Our Heroes make it to the probe and start climbing up to the hatch. Outside the ship, sans spacesuits. Originally, they were supposed to suit up for this scene, but when they saw the costumes, they balked, refusing to wear them. So the filmmakers gave up and said “artistic license.” (The TV series Jason of Star Command had a gag where the characters would put a little pack on their belt, calling it their “life support.” Lame, but it was more effective than what we have here.) I suspect that The Black Hole was a very disorganized shoot, and it resulted in problems like this. So there’s the goofy scene, now let’s get back to the good stuff.
Back to the Command Tower. The place is coming apart at the seems, control panels shorting out, mezzanine collapsing, humanoid bodies going flying. Reinhardt can do nothing but watch as the whole place gets an extreme home makeover. We see a close-up of Reinhardt’s eyes at the moment of his death, as his ship continues to rip itself up.
Serves you right, you son of a bitch.
It’s funny. This is probably the wrong way to look at things, but I think that if a villain is particularly nasty (willing to torture someone, or willing to commit mass murder, for instance), then he deserves to suffer a bit in this world before being dispatched to the next. Problem is, how do you do that without making the hero out to be just as big a monster as the villain? Offhand, the only movies I can think of (though I’m sure there are quite a few more) that do this are Raiders of the Lost Ark and Terminator 2. Here, Disney, of all studios, does it twice, first with Max getting his innards scambled, then with Reinhardt slowly dying of his injuries while watching everything he’s worked for over the last twenty years get trashed. (And Disney did it again to some degree with Tron and really gave the villain a fitting comeuppance in Something Wicked This Way Comes.) Who’d’a thunk it?
Vincent goes to Bob’s side, and Bob gives a dying speech which is, let’s face it, pretty lame. Cue the violins. No joke! Still, they tried to put an effort in, and the movie acknowledges that Bob’s death carries more impact than Alex or Harry did. Vincent watches his friend die, then forces himself to get moving.
Our Heroes are nearly at the probe’s hatch, when an explosion (PLAAAAAAA-BWAAAAAAAHHH!!!) knocks Charlie off his feet. Damn, it’s a real shame that the outside-the-ship-with-no-suits howler is in play. The shot of Charlie floating away helplessly, then Vincent coming to the rescue, is pretty good. Vincent picks up Charlie and they get back to the probe.
Ahhhhhh, if you thought the Cygnus was getting trashed before, do stay a while. The filmmakers tear this puppy apart but good. First we see the Command Tower ripping loose, then the whole bow of the ship tears away. When we get back to Our Heroes, who are now in the probe, Charlie’s line about the whole ship breaking up is redundant, but believable. One thing about the probe that’s always bugged me: there’s just a cockpit. That’s it. Our Heroes have to squeeze in. It’d’ve been nice to know that they had enough food and oxygen to get back home; as it stands, right now they’ll be putting themselves right back in the mess they were in before they docked in the first place. (It’ll be a moot point in a couple of minutes, but still.) Aaaaaaannnnnnnd lift-off!
There are some good shots of the probe lifting clear, and right about this point would’ve been the perfect place to end the movie. Take the Poseidon kick to its logical end: have Our Heroes sigh in relief that they made it out, then settle back and realize they’re (1) exhausted and (2) beginning to grieve for their friends (okay, I’ll understand if no one mourns Harry, but Alex and Bob both died basically jumping into the line of fire). Show a couple of final shots of the shattered hulk of the Cygnus drifting ever closer to the black hole (and there are a couple of really nice shots of this), roll credits, The End.
They couldn’t leave well enough alone.
The probe has the same anti-grav shield that the Cygnus did, but she’s not answering the helm. Vincent figures it out first, and Dan isn’t far behind: the probe’s on auto-pilot (one can assume that’s what Max did when prepping the ship). After all this, they’re goin’ in. I like Dan’s resigned expression here. Kate gives the last line of live dialogue: “Let’s pray he was a genius.” And with that.... Down we go!
The close up of the black hole itself isn’t near as impressive as the earlier shots. It’s a spinning whirlpool, clearly done by shooting a whirlpool in water then changing the colors to red and black. I don’t like it near as much as I did the earlier stuff. We get some very cheesy shots of the interior, as Our Heroes, uh, flash back to earlier dialogue in the movie (and they weren’t privy to some of it). Dan’s flashback was the most giggle-inducing. The shots of the probe shooting through the hole aren’t too bad. It’s kind of like the wormhole sequence in Star Trek: TMP, but I like these shots a lot more. Star Trek looks like it used early CGI, and it was obvious; this tunnel or wormhole or whatever it is looks much more chaotic, and much more old school. The effect itself is pretty nice.
So we go through this for a couple of minutes, then the probe gets to the other side. Or something. We see a close-up of (I believe) Kate’s eye, and then....
This movie has gotten goofy in many places, and it’s gotten downright crazy a few times. But now it’s about to go right into you-gotta-be kidding-me territory. Those of you who have never seen this movie, I recommend that you sit down for this.
We dissolve to a shot of Reinhardt floating over a glowing red landscape, as the music gets seriously gloom-n-doom. There’s a cheesy sting as Reinhardt looks up to see Maximillian bearing down on him. This is very, very weird. I’m not kidding, it looks like Max is going into a lover’s embrace with Reinhardt (I only wish I could look up and see Angelina Jolie bearing down on me like that). And then... We see a shot of Max’s head, but where that glowing eye was, we see two human eyes. Reinhardt and Max have merged, maybe?
We pull back to see that Max has his arms extended and is standing on top of a mountain. And we continue to pull back, and back... and back... to reveal... Reinhardt/Max is in Hell itself.
I swear I’m not making this up.
The pullback is smoothly done, and Max standing on top of that mountain is a great image.* The movie’s depiction of Hell is the traditional one, a burning lake of fire, and it may be the best such depiction I’ve ever seen in a movie.... Only.... Only.... It has nothing to do with the rest of the movie! The filmmakers apparently decided to try and one-up 2001, making their ending religious instead of scientific. Nope. Doesn’t work. Dang, it’s a great sequence, but it belongs in another movie.
*[I’m not 100% sure, but the mountain in this scene looks very much like the mountain that Kirk, Spock, McCoy and Sybok walked down when they entered “Heaven” in Star Trek V. It’s much more believable as part of Hell.]
We ain’t done. Now we dissolve to a long hallway made of gothic arches. The music gets more peaceful, and we see, yes, an angel pointing the way. Villain goes to Hell, Heroes go to Heaven. At the far end of the corridor, there’s a sort of kaleidoscope effect. This sequence doesn’t look near as good as the Reinhardt/Max-goes-to-Hades bit. Of course, for some reason, a view of Hell is much more interesting than a view of Heaven. I know I’m not alone in saying this; what does that say about us as a species?
But before we get to the end of the corridor.... The probe blasts out of a white hole, having gone through. Our heroes look around, confused at first, then apparently amazed. Whether it’s amazement at being alive or at makin’ it to Paradise is up in the air. There’s no way of knowing if Our Heroes are getting their own little slice of Heaven, or if God decided them pearly gates are gonna have to wait a little longer. (In an interview, Harrison Ellenshaw admitted that even he doesn’t know what this sequence means, and it’s doubtful anyone else did.)
The final shot is of the probe heading toward nearby planet, as the music rises to a triumphant flourish. And Our Heroes live to see another day, flying into the sun. And with that, we go to the final credits, accompanied by the Theremin theme.
It self-destructed, but it did do on a grand scale, ya gotta admit.
By the way, if you’re watching the closing credits, pay attention near the end. You’ll see “Production Assistant: Stephen McEveety.” McEveety is the son of Vincent McEveety, one of Disney’s regular directors at the time. Look him up, and notice Braveheart and The Passion of the Christ in his impressive resumé. Sometimes nepotism has a good result, hey? |
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BradH812
Holy Cardinal and Five Star General of the Righteous Knighthood of Jabootu
USA
1294 Posts |
Posted - 08/04/2008 : 7:45:53 PM
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Afterthoughts
Call this impressive or just a little scary, but I wrote all of the above from memory. No viewing or taking of notes. I watched two snippets to be sure I got the order of a couple of lines right, and that was it.
It’s hard to know where to begin; there’s lots to yak about here. I know I’m gonna miss something.
Overacting, underacting, and zzzzzzzzzz
The acting is about as good as you can expect. Forster comes off best, playing the Dashing Hero quite well. Mimieux and Borgnine walk through their parts, but they show they have some chops when the script gives them something to do (maybe Joseph Bottoms would’ve done the same, but the only thing he had a chance to do was act annoyed at Vincent’s witticisms). Anthony Perkins sleepwalked through his part, which is a bit surprising. Certainly, he wanted to break out of the Norman Bates typecasting he’d fallen prey to over the last fifteen years. I repeat, if he’d switched his performances between this and ffolkes, he might have had a chance. The best performances may come from Roddy McDowell and Slim Pickens, who actually have a bit of character to work with (I’ll give the edge to Pickens, who underplayed his part nicely).
And then there’s Maximillian Schell. Hoo boy. Schell had a fine old time here, hamming it up and chewing the scenery so much you’re surprised the sets don’t show teeth marks. Over-the-top doesn’t begin to describe it. Ironically, this helps the movie, since it plugs up a lot of plot holes.
Consider the following. Here are some ideas that could be put into the Evil Overlord’s Rulebook: - When a strange spaceship appears on the scope, don’t take chances. Let them get close enough, then shoot them down.
- If you’re not willing to do that, send out a warning beacon, telling the ship that you are trapped here, and that they don’t want to come any closer.
- If the heroes board the ship, make damn sure they don’t go anywhere without an armed escort.
- If they do indeed go off on solo trips, step up security around any sensitive areas, like, say, the hospital-turned-zombie factory.
- If you know the captive crewmember can send a telepathic SOS, conk her on the head and knock her out!
- Alternately, don’t worry about having a zombie who can send out your press releases. Just kill her and be done with it.
- When you realize the heroes are onto you, send as many guards as you can afford to guard their ship. Take advantage of your superior numbers.
- Also, when you realize the heroes are gonna make trouble, put the trip down the black hole’s gullet on hold till you’re rid of them!
- Finally, if you decide to go ahead and blow up the heroes’ ship, don’t give them any more trouble. Tell the sentries to put up a fight then let themselves get shot, so the heroes will get back on board and take off, and you can skeet-shoot them at your own leisure.
Reinhardt does none of this, and these are just things that come to mind off the top of my head. All of this is explained by Schell’s manic performance. Of course Reinhardt’s gonna be sloppy as hell. Never mind that he’s no military planner; the guy’s crazy! It’s no surprise he screws up left and right if you consider that he’s loco in the cabeza!
It’s interesting to note that two of the actors in this movie (and its producer) found success outside of film within a few years. Perkins gave up the fight a couple of years later and resigned himself to starring in Psycho sequels and clones. Maximillian Schell and Ernest Borgnine continued to be solid working actors, and still do (impressive for Borgnine, who’s in his nineties now). Robert Forster was relegated to grade-Z flicks for a while (but from what I’ve seen, he remained a competent actor), until Jackie Brown reminded people that he was one of our better character actors. He’s had respectable work since then. From what I’ve read, Joseph Bottoms got out of movies about ten years later, and now owns and runs a successful art gallery in L.A. Mimieux got out about the same time and now is a real estate tycoon. Producer Ron Miller.... Let’s get back to him in a bit.
The amazing thing is, the ending could’ve been crazier.
In the interview on the Disney DVD, Harrison Ellenshaw notes that the studio went back and forth for a long time trying to find an ending. They didn’t just want to have Our Heroes make it through the black hole, The End. Personally, I think that would’ve worked better. In fact, the filmmakers got stuck on having Our Heroes go into the hole in the first place; I still hold that they could’ve escaped, watched the Cygnus get sucked in, and roll credits. Anyway, Ellenshaw had his own idea of how the movie could end. I won’t go into detail here; look on that link I posted above, and you can find it. But it’s even loopier than what they gave us, and Ellenshaw admits that he has no idea what the end means. Most of the storybook adaptations (and the story album) simply have Our Heroes making it through. The LP does a decent job of narrating something that can’t be done cinematically, giving a more satisfying ending than was offered up in the film. The novelization goes way-y-y-y-y out there, having Dan, Charlie, Vincent, and Kate transform into God-like beings ruling a new universe. Seriously! Personally, I found this ending very depressing. After having a conventional space opera, this attempt at blowing the mind clashed. Also, I couldn’t help wondering about Our Heroes’ friends and families back home. (This was amplified by a poignant line from Bob in the book, saying that the fallen humans would have many friends and family to remember them, but Vincent would be the only one who could “remember for the machines.”) Speaking of which....
Good and bad in the book
In addition to Bob’s death scene, which was much more effective, the book has a lot of little changes that made it more interesting. Its science was still mostly BS, but it was a little more credible than what the movie tossed our way. It gave a smattering of background on the characters, and it also introduced some subplots which were almost certainly in the script, but edited out of the movie. First off, it was established that the story takes place on Christmas Eve (in one adaptation, the exact date is given: December 24, 2193). Also, Dan and Kate are lovers. Finally, the Palomino search for extraterrestrial life has been a complete failure. One more thing: the book makes a welcome change regarding Kate’s telepathy, stating that Kate had a surgical implant years before, allowing her to communicate with any robot or computer specially designed for this kind of link-up. The film might have done well to put some of this stuff in, but the book tends to tell, not show, eating up a lot of time. Also, the book is hard to read: I’ve never liked Alan Dean Foster’s style of writing, and the unpoetic and clunky prose hurts the flow of the story here.
Back on track / It’s Miller time!
As much sentimental value as The Black Hole has for me, there’s one thing I can’t deny: as my grandmother would have said, this movie is a grand mess. The amazing thing is that it’s still an entertaining mess. (I found myself agreeing almost 100% with David Ansen’s review in Newsweek and especially Richard Schickel’s reivew in Time.) It has a lot going for it, when you think about it. While Vincent and Bob are way too cutesy, I like their overall design. As for Max.... Whoooaaa. Everything an EE-vill henchman needs to be: not too bright, but not too dumb, big, tough, and scary-lookin’. The costume design isn’t too bad, giving a plausible look at fashion 200 years from now. Clearly, though, this movie is a triumph of production design over writing prowess. The Cygnus was actually a 12-foot model made of etched brass, and it looks fantastic. I remember reading that the model was put on display for a long while in New York’s Museum of Modern Art. Think of that! Modern art that looks good! It really is beautiful to look at, and the interior sets are great, suggesting a ship that seems to go on and on and on.... Whew! The Palomino is no slouch; she’s a hardy little ship. The film had a total of over 150(!) matte paintings, and the paintings themselves look great.
The trouble comes in the use of the special effects. I suspect that this movie tried to push the technology too hard, using blue screen when there was smoke drifting around, or when foreground objects and actors were such that they could cause glitches. The wirework problems are a symptoms of this: in many ways, Disney painted themselves into a corner with this movie. At the same time, though, they didn’t take the route Star Wars had taken, taking multiple model shots on a single negative. They went the old way, sandwiching multiple shots together and increasing the grain. (This probably didn’t look half bad when first shown, but the DVD is sharp enough for you to tell where the matte paintings end and the live action begins.) Actually, I don’t really mind this last one. The yellowish cast and the soft grain lend the movie a painterly feel that goes well with the appearance of the Cygnus.
And then there is the script. I’m going to assume that the driving force behind this movie was Ron Miller. It was Miller who got the interview in Starlog magazine when this film was released, and his is the only name attached to the movie from day one. Miller was too ambitious and not ambitious enough, at the same time. He wanted a forward-looking sci-fi film, a 20,000 Leagues in space. Here are some of the themes the movie tries to cover: Blurring the lines between man and machine, having Vincent and Bob be more human than the humanoids (and, indeed, the rest of the cast); asking if the ends really do justify the means; showing a cosmological phenomenon in all its glory; giving us a rousing space opera, compleat with chases and gunfights; giving us a haunted-house movie set in deep space. Too much for one movie; one or two of these things would fit in, but all of it? Miller couldn’t kill his darlings. His next big mistake was to insist on bringing in on-staff writers to complete the script. Jeb Rosenbrook, Richard Landau, Bob Barbash, and Gerry Day all had experience writing TV scripts (mostly westerns), but none of them had worked in sci-fi. It shows. Also, Gary Nelson didn’t have experience directing a big science fiction film. Add to that, Nelson was brought in at the last minute when The Black Hole’s previous director quit. There were some hints here and there that production was fairly chaotic. Star Wars may have been a chaotic shoot, too, but George Lucas knew what he wanted and how to get it (remember, this was the young Lucas who was fresh off making American Graffiti). The Black Hole had a more movie-by-committee feel. One can only imagine what might have happened if Miller had taken the plunge and hired, say, a very young John Sayles to work on the script then started doing the hard sell on a hungry, hotshot director.
Of course, that wasn’t going to happen, and much of the problem lay in Disney’s structure as a studio. Disney was probably the last truly old school studio in 1979, with a staff of writers and directors on standby and a standard group of actors ready to take what parts they were given. The problem was, this was the age of the auteurs, a time when maverick writers and directors were on the scene, making Disney’s system, which had worked so well twenty years earlier, look hopelessly obsolete. Disney couldn’t break itself out of its rut, and I suspect that Miller had a big hand in it.
Warning: Ten-cent unresearched film history course ahead
Ron Miller would become Disney’s CEO in 1983... and get canned about a year later. While he wasn’t the official head honcho during the 70’s, he did have a lot of power. Note that his name was on the producer’s credit for just about every damn Disney film made between 1968 and 1983. He was later characterized as a dumb jock who had married into the Disney empire (he was Walt Disney’s son-in-law) and then run the company into the ground. While I buy him having his position mainly out of marrying Unca Walt’s daughter (his only credit outside of Disney was for The Beatniks, which ended up being a target for MST3K), and he may well have left The Mouse wide open for hostile takeover attempts, I wouldn’t call him a dumb jock. More likely, he was a competent producer, but he had two problems: (1) he wasn’t a quick learner, and (2) he was simply the wrong man at the wrong time. Part of this was Walt Disney’s own fault. Disney had all but groomed Miller to be his replacement; it would be interesting to see what would happen had Miller decided to go his own way sooner. Miller would eventually get handed his hat, being summarily kicked out of the studio (I'm thinking of writing a review for another Disney flick... or two... or three, so I may go into greater detail then). He didn't take long to bounce back. He and his wife bought a vineyard, and for the last twenty years or so, he has owned and run a very successful winery.
The studio system mentality would be a serious hang-up. Disney himself could get away with doing this, because, through some gift, Disney could intuit what people wanted. He had a knack for pleasing audiences, so it was logical to have him in full control of the company. Miller didn’t have that. The second problem was the kiddie-pic mentality. Disney died before the ratings system came into existence, and all of Disney’s movies were given a G-rating at the time. Of course, this was done before the PG-rating was around, and a G at the time could apply to anything up to PG-13 status. If 20,000 Leagues or Old Yeller got a rating today, they’d certainly get a PG. But G it was, and the studio seemed to pick up a G-only policy. Again, some of this may lie at Disney’s feet: Miller later stated that he and Disney saw To Kill a Mockingbird in the theater, and when they were leaving, Disney told him he wished he could produce a movie like that, but he was worried about how the public would react. So, would Unca Walt be able to change with the times, or would he be too set in his ways? We’ll never know. In any case, Disney was known through the seventies for making “family” films, which usually meant kiddie fare. Some of it was pretty decent, including Candleshoe, The Rescuers, Freaky Friday, and Escape to Witch Mountain. But then there were the likes of The Gnome-Mobile, Snowball Express, The Ugly Dachsund, The Million-Dollar Duck, and Now You See Him, Now You Don’t.
So, by 1979, Disney was chafing, and in need of a hit. They needed to shake things up. Voila! A PG movie! It’s amusing to note that this raised quite a few eyebrows at the time. Actually, The Watcher in the Woods was planned to be Disney’s first PG movie, but after a disastrous test screening, Watcher was shelved, and The Black Hole got the, um, honor. (Disney was wise to put Watcher on hold. When they finally did release it, it bombed. What do you expect from a timid horror movie?) The Black Hole’s total cost, including advertising, came up to about $26 million (quite a lot in 1979). Its net returns: about $25.4 million. It posted a mild loss, and it probably turned a small profit after TV and video sales (an infant market at the time) were counted in. Nothing to be ashamed of, but not what Disney needed.
If you want a good idea of the many contradictions this movie has, you can look at the scene where Max eviscerates Alex. It’s a brutal moment, far more intense (and gut-churning, pardon the pun) than anything Disney had ever done... but they weren’t comfortable putting the final touch, blood on Max’s blades. Disney wanted to get into more adult fare, but maybe they weren't ready. Maybe that’s why this movie comes across as being so strange and schizophrenic. The whole thing clashes. They went too far, trying to be and do too much, but at the same time there were some chances they weren’t willing to take. It was violent and disturbing, and bloodless. It had some very interesting ideas, but it didn’t make use of any of them. It had state-of-the-art special effects and visible wirework. It tried to have some scientific realism (including taking on Mercury astronaut Gordon Cooper as a consultant), but its science could be picked apart by a ten-year-old. The damn thing was utterly insane. I watch the movie now and often have to fight the urge to laugh at it.
And yet, somehow, the stupid thing works.
The Black Hole might be ripe for remaking, if done right. Tone down the religious content (which was pretty clunky), then decide on one or two ideas to run with. The idea of sentient robots would’ve been the way to go twenty years ago, but now it would be trailing Blade Runner, Terminator 2, A.I., Disney’s own Wall-E, etc. While a remake could iron out the many kinks, it would be tough. Since the good stuff and the bad stuff are intertwined, it’d be a trick getting them separated out.
Besides, for me, the bad stuff is almost as much fun as the good. There’s something comforting about it. Of course, it could be (and probably is) the tail wagging the dog. I fell in love with this movie as a kid, and never really fell out of it. I’ve reviewed several movies in this board, recommending some for a good laugh, recommending some be shelved, and feeling like I needed a bath for two or three. But this is the one I feel personal affection for. James Berardinelli wrote a column a few weeks back, noting how people will go in for repeat viewings of their favorite films. They’ll see them twenty or thirty times (or 220), until they know every line of dialogue by heart. It’s like seeing an old friend, even if the old friend is a goofy dork (or a Donald Dork; thank you, thank you, remember to tip your waitresses). They go back to the time when they first saw that film. Berardinelli stated that whenever he watches Star Trek II, he turns into a teenager again, seeing it with his friends. I guess I turn into an eight-year-old again. I was five when I first saw Star Wars, so I didn’t understand a word of it. It took me a while to get any of The Black Hole. But it was my first real taste of sci-fi.
Call it a guilty pleasure, or call it my stubborness. I’m older now, and a little more mature, and I can see The Black Hole for what it is, a heavily-flawed B-movie. But it doesn’t change things.
That's the craziest contraciction about this movie. All things considered, it should have been much better, but at the same time it's much better than it deserved to be. And whaddaya know! After all this time, The Black Hole is still my most favoritest movie in the whole world!
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Edited by - BradH812 on 08/16/2008 2:37:26 PM |
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BradH812
Holy Cardinal and Five Star General of the Righteous Knighthood of Jabootu
USA
1294 Posts |
Posted - 08/04/2008 : 7:46:34 PM
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Whew!
Dangit, I know I forgot something, I just know it. But I have no idea what it could be....
Bonk bonk bonk. Bonk Bonk Bonk! BONK!! BONK!! BONK!!CRASH!
FREEEEEEEEED-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-MMMMM!!!
Oh yeah. (long pause) I’m toast.
Management: Oh, BRA-A-A-A-A-A-AD.....
Um, er, heh-heh, heh-heh, heh-heh-heh. Heh. You’re, uh, you’re not mad at me, are ya?
(looooooooong pause)
Management: Louie!!! FETCH!!! |
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Nlneff
Diocesan Ecclesiarch of the Sacred Order of Jabootu
USA
84 Posts |
Posted - 08/05/2008 : 7:43:28 PM
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Great review, makes me want to pick this up on netflix.
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Fox Cutter
Minister of the Sacraments of Jabootu
28 Posts |
Posted - 08/07/2008 : 11:16:07 AM
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I enjoyed this as a kid, and I have the tape version of the LP version of the movie. Though I took it less well when I saw it again a few years back. It did feel a bit bland it places. Even so there were a few things about the movie that stuck in my mind.
I kind of always figured that Frank McRae ended up as Star, though they do say he was killed. Just the sort of thing the 6 year old mind comes up with.
As for the end, I never did get the whole heaven/hell thing, and in fact never saw it that way. I always fingered each group got there own universe to live in, but I can see that your right, It is all about Reinhardt being in hell.
Honestly, I always forget about the ESP thing between viewing.
Reading your review I really couldn't help but think that this is a film that is due for a good remake. Try to keep the space shoots looking really good and maybe tighten up some science a touch as well.
Some of the things I would change. I might focus a bit more on the line between man and machine. This could work really well if you move Kate's ESP to being some sort of mechanical implant. You can use that as a bit of a spring board to talk about the morality of such things.
I would also make Kate the astrophysicists, and Alex a biologist (you'll need both for that sort of mission anyway). That would make her a mover on the crew, and make Alex a bit of a second fiddle, so when Reinhardt starts paying attention to him it would be easy to see why he would latch on. Reinhardt makes him feel important. It also shows Reinhardt's sexism as he don't even bother with Kate until she can help him earn his glory.
Outside of that, I would fix everything you said should be fixed. |
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Gristle McThornbody
Preeminent Apostolic Prelate of the Discipleship of Jabootu
Germany
186 Posts |
Posted - 08/08/2008 : 1:55:35 PM
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did Sean Bean’s character in Ronin program these droids??).
Too funny; I just watched Ronin about three weeks ago.
Great review. Like you, I couldn't get enough of the movie as a kid. But the older I got, the more the flaws stood out.
"Hi, I'm Bob Evil!" |
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Terrahawk
Holy Cardinal and Five Star General of the Righteous Knighthood of Jabootu
USA
644 Posts |
Posted - 08/13/2008 : 2:35:33 PM
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Nice review.
I had the initial three comics that covered the movie. If I remember correctly, the comics' take on the ending was that they were transported into an alternate universe where physics were different and a different Reinhardt exists. Of course they probably did that to allow for the future comics that never came.
I summon Bigger Fish! |
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BradH812
Holy Cardinal and Five Star General of the Righteous Knighthood of Jabootu
USA
1294 Posts |
Posted - 08/13/2008 : 9:17:00 PM
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Terrahawk, that website I posted the link for mentions the comics. I had those three books as well. I read the synopsis of the fourth issue, and it was pretty lame. It ended on a cliffhanger, and....
Nothing. The comic folded, as it richly deserved.
Fox Cutter, it's fun to play Fix the Movie, innit? I liked your idea of switching Kate-n-Alex's roles and the blurring of human and robot. One thing that could be explored is the fact that Reinhardt's discoveries would be a great benefit to Earth.... but is it morally right to trumpet his successes when he was such an evil man?
Dang, I had a helluva ending, I thought. I mentioned Dead Can Dance's "Host of Seraphim" in an early review. How's this for a wild ending? When Our Heroes reach the probe, Bob checks a computer console to find out that the probe's on auto-pilot. It can be reprogrammed pretty easily, but it'll take time... too much time for whoever does the work. Max appears and shoots, mortally wounding Bob. We have the final fight as before, then Bob tells Vincent about the probe. He bid Vincent farewell then gets to work on the computer. Our Heroes get to the probe, and they get free; Bob is able to get it reset to manual.
Our Heroes get free and their happiness at being safe at last gives way to exhaustion and grief. Then we go to the Cygnus and see that Bob is still alive. He goes outside to watch the ship get closer to the black hole. Around here, The Host of Seraphim starts to play.
The ship crosses the event horizon, and Bob watches time outside speed up, and he watches the Universe go through its whole life cycle. Fade to black.
Should I write to Disney and see if they're up for it? [grin]
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Fox Cutter
Minister of the Sacraments of Jabootu
28 Posts |
Posted - 08/14/2008 : 11:00:32 AM
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Ya, I like playing Fix the Movie.
I like the idea of playing up the morality of Reinhardt's work. There is some nice history for that sort of thing which you could touch on without naming names. Just looking at some of the stuff he has, like his anti-gravity, would change the whole of space travel. Then again he managed to 'solve' the problems of fully melding man and machine, killing everyone in the process.
I really like your ending. Allows Bob to have a good heroic sacrifice while still being the Obi-Wan. The idea of him inside the event horizon, watching the Universe live and die is really cool and could be a touching and poignant moment.
Why write to Disney, we should sit down, work up a script then drop it in there lap. Maybe they will go for it and we get the fun of really trying to pull this off and not just talk about it. |
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BradH812
Holy Cardinal and Five Star General of the Righteous Knighthood of Jabootu
USA
1294 Posts |
Posted - 08/14/2008 : 8:49:41 PM
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| I smells a challenge, I does. I'm having a hell of a time with the e-mail on here, so it'll be even tougher than normal. And co-writing a script long-distance would be tricky (especially when done by relative strangers). But..... [url="bradh871@yahoo.com"]E-mail me, Fox; this could be interesting.[/url] |
Edited by - BradH812 on 08/14/2008 8:52:20 PM |
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Pip
Holy Cardinal and Five Star General of the Righteous Knighthood of Jabootu
USA
333 Posts |
Posted - 08/18/2008 : 12:25:38 AM
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Count Pip in as a painfully frank occasional advisor. I mean, if you want.
Pip |
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BradH812
Holy Cardinal and Five Star General of the Righteous Knighthood of Jabootu
USA
1294 Posts |
Posted - 08/23/2008 : 9:01:17 PM
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Pip, I may take ya up on that offer, if Fox is agreeable.
Okay, this is wierd. I start playing Fix-the-Movie on The Black Hole, then rent Sunshine, whose first half is almost a road map for for a scientifically accurate remake of Hole! (I wonder if Alex Garland ever saw The Black Hole?) First hour was fantastic. Pity it fell to pieces in the last third. |
Edited by - BradH812 on 08/23/2008 9:02:46 PM |
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The Black Hole (movies I like) — Disney flicks 1
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