1990s American Horror Part Forty-Three

GRIM PRAIRIE TALES

(1990)

Dir - Wayne Coe

Overall: MEH

Art director Wayne Coe's only film from behind the lens until We Have Your Kids emerged thirty years later, Grim Prairie Tales is a anthology horror Western that is held together by James Earl Jones and Brad Dourif as the campfire yarn spinners.  Besides the top-notch presence of the two leads, the movie is also notable for being one of the first to be shot by famed cinematographer Janusz Kamiński.  Both Jones and Dourif have excellent chemistry together as they spend an eerie evening in the desert, playing a game of one-upsmanship that results in a competitive, often aggressive admiration for each other.  Dourif being the more mild-mannered "city folk" bookworm with glasses and Jones the rugged and intimidating bounty hunter, none of their babble is particularly profound, but it is captivating to watch two master thespians lean into their playful banter with each other.  Unfortunately, the segments themselves are top-to-bottom dull.  The first concerns an old man dying while crossing an Indian burial ground, the second and only hilarious one has a succubus literally sucking Marc McClure into her vagina after seducing him, the third features William Atherton caught up in a lynch mobbing, and the final is about a cocksure gunslinger who meets his supernatural end, (and features a nifty if out-of-nowhere animated nightmare sequence).

 

THE SILENCE OF THE LAMBS
(1991)
Dir - Johnathan Demme
Overall: GREAT

One of the most heralded psychological thrillers in cinema history and a police procedural/serial killer profiling drama that has had a lasting influence in the three decades since its release, The Silence of the Lambs boasts the credentials to back up its pop culture relevance.  It was the second film to feature the character of Hannibal Lecter after Michael Mann's also excellent Manhunter from 1986, this one being a direct and faithful adaptation of Thomas Harris' second book in the series.  Both Jodie Foster and Anthony Hopkins were already well-respected actors in their field when they took on Clarice Sterling and Lecter, each delivering superb performances as an FBI agent in training and a cannibalistic psychiatrist who share two different types of respect for each other after bonding over acquiring information about Ted Levine's Buffalo Bill; a disturbed serial killer that skins slightly overweight women in order to make a flesh suit out of them.  The disturbing aspects of the subject matter are never exploitative in their depiction, yet Demme brings the viewer in intimately with characters speaking directly into the camera as he utilizes numerous slight of hand maneuvers from the director's seat.  This includes letting the audience be privy to certain information that the characters lack, while also manipulating us in conjunction to how numerous people on screen are likewise being duped.  Classy and riveting, it is about as good as such movies ever get.

WISHMASTER 2: EVIL NEVER DIES

(1999)

Dir - Jack Sholder

Overall: WOOF

When it comes to unrelenting schlock and recycled laziness, one has to hand it to the Wishmaster series for steering the course.  For Wishmaster 2: Evil Never Dies, all parties involved essentially redo the first movie except the same.  The laughably flimsy story merely serves the purpose of setting up another ridiculous set piece, one after the other where Andrew Divoff utilizes the loosest possible definition of a "wish" to feed his soul bag because ancient prophecies or whatever.  Several plot points from the first movie are recycled and the few new ideas here all have the feel of being made up on the fly, with writer/director Jack Scholder returning full-throttle to horror for the first time since A Nightmare on Elm Street 2: Freddy's Revenge, delivering an incessantly stupid smorgasbord of D-rent Hellraiser camp in the process.  Divoff would bail on the franchise after this as to not embarrass himself any more than necessary, but his performance is of the exquisite scenery-chewing variety as the grin never leaves his face and his ADRed lines are full of cliches and diabolically groan-worthy quips.  Tony Lister playing a prison guard instead of an inmate is a delightful addition and the practical effects work fare better than a handful of CGI shots that straight-up look like cartoons.  Still, watching the Wishmaster make a lawyer "go fuck himself" and a woman literally "crap-out" in a casino is well worth the price of admission.

1990s American Horror Part Forty-Two

MERIDIAN: KISS OF THE BEAST

(1990)
Dir - Charles Band
Overall: MEH

After the planned anthology film Pulse Pounders failed to get released, Charles Band's next directorial venture was the quasi-Beauty and the Beast reworking Meridian: Kiss of the Beast, (The Ravaging, Phantoms). Dropping mere days after Twin Peaks first aired, it features Sherilyn Fenn in the lead as the lady of a castle in Italy that holds a bizarre supernatural secret involving mysterious circus performers and twin brothers who do the whole "one of them is good, one of them not so good" deal.  Considering that both siblings seduce and rape Fenn and her best friend, neither of these dashing charmers are exclusively in the "good" camp.  Of course because melodrama though, Fenn falls in immortal love with one of them which puts her in a conundrum to end his ancient suffering of turning into a big hairy monster on the regular.  The makeup work is solid and brings to mind Gary Oldman's bestial form in Bram Stoker's Dracula two years later, plus Band takes a noticeably less jacked-up, cornball approach to his own material, instead maintaining a romantic mood throughout.  Unfortunately though, the story hinges on weak footing and meanders too much to stay of interest, so it only remains memorable for those who want to see some cool monster makeup and Fenn in her birthday suit.

WARLOCK: THE ARMAGEDDON

(1993)

Dir - Anthony Hickox

Overall: WOOF

 

For the unrelated sequel to 1989's Warlock, Warlock: The Armageddon finds director Anthony Hickox taking over for Steve Miner, with Julian Sands returning as a different title character to chew the scenery accordingly.  Whereas the initial movie established and followed its own time traveling/good vs evil rules, the script here by Kevin Rock seems to make it up as it goes along, particularly where Sands' bad guy is concerned whose supernatural powers are laughably arbitrary and only serve whatever purpose the plot needs in order to move things forward.  Such laughably lazy, "wait, what?" narrative hacks may appease schlock enthusiasts while causing endless eyeball rolls for others, but the overall stupidity is egregious.  Stylistically it is just big, loud, non-stop camp, except the kind of camp done on a noticeably insufficient budget that bites off more than it can chew.  Hickox overuses ADR and keeps the camera busy with split diopter shots left and right, but the special effects are embarrassing at best and the story regularly detours into syrupy drama involving local yokels, town bullies, teenage love, and training sequences that get in the way of Sands just doing whatever wacky evil thing the screenplay tells him to.  It will either make you give up halfway through as to rethink your viewing choices or have you howling with laughter at what a braindead mess it is.

 

THE GLASSHEAD

(1998)

Dir - Matthew S. Smith

Overall: WOOF

Cinematographer Matthew S. Smith decided to make his own barely full-length movie as director with the frustrating crud rock The Glasshead.  Shot in black and white on either Super 8 film or what is made to look like Super 8 film, one or two scenes are surprisingly atmospheric compared to the predominant amount of them that accurately showcase the primitive, student movie aesthetic which makes the best out of the no money that Smith had to work with.  The overall presentation though is sink-in-your-seat embarrassing.  Performance wise, it is catastrophically poor and large portions are narrated as awkwardly as the rest of the dialog is performed, all giving it the feel of an accidental parody of equally wooden and melodramatic posturing.  Story-wise, it is just as laughably stupid, concerning some dipshit college kids who run into a guy we never see, (presumably the title monster?), who ADRs the entire middle of the movie in flashback.  Everyone on screen is annoying, dumb, or just an asshole, the sound design is uneven at best, the pacing is sluggish, various hand-held shots are done in pitch blackness, the editing is disjointed, the finale seems to have been taken from a completely different movie, and once again, the acting is next level atrocious, to the point where you just feel awful for how many people are making a complete fool of themselves here.

1990s American Horror Part Forty-One

THE INVISIBLE MANIAC

(1990)

Dir - Adam Rifkin

Overall: MEH

 

This sleazy mad scientist/murder comedy from filmmaker Adam Rifkin was his first in the horror camp and is noteworthy for being one of the few non-pornographic films that Shannon Wilsey aka Savannah appeared in before her untimely suicide three years later.  The Invisible Maniac, (The Invisible Sex Maniac), establishes its perverted tone from the get-go as we meet the title character as a youngster who is caught by his wackadoo mom perving on his naked neighbor.  This sets up the voyeuristic angle which is predictably utilized once Noel Peters' dweebish chemist reaches adulthood and invents an invisibility serum that gives him ideal opportunities to spy on high school girls in both the shower and in their bedrooms.  Classy guy.  The plot line essentially sticks to the "nerd getting revenge on the bullies" motif, except this time it is the teacher who is picked on instead of a fellow student; a teacher with outrageously disturbed mental/horny issues that allow for him to attack his fellow professors, escape from a mental institution, and still find himself able to get a job lecturing a summer school class where the also horny, female principal apparently never heard of a background check.  Some of the set pieces are dumb enough to enjoy, but Peters' maniacal laugh is obnoxious and the story is too hare-brained to be memorable.

 

CHILDREN OF THE NIGHT

(1991)

Dir - Tony Randel

Overall: MEH

 

The second feature produced by Fangoria Films, Children of the Night is a cut above most D-grade schlock from the era, at least as far as its production values are concerned.  Director Tony Randel had already delivered the second Hellraiser movie at this point and he and cinematographer Richard Michalak keep the camerawork distractingly busy, with boatloads of odd angles and atmospheric lighting that help forgive a dopey script penned by four different credited screenwriters.  The practical effects get the job done and the vampire makeup is elaborately nasty as Karen Black looks particularly ridiculously in her sexed-out, undead form, even getting to turn into a fleshy garbage bag at one point, (don't ask).  All of the acting is of the over-doing it variety and ergo embarrassing, save for Garret Morris as a harmless wino and Black who was veteran enough to channel the right type of hammy energy to save face.  To be fair though, Randel is certainly going for a high-camp tone that is akin to the most comedic episodes of Tales from the Crypt, so all of the film's over-the-top goofiness is at least deliberate.  It still comes off like a poor man's Salem's Lot with a lackluster finale act, but there is nothing here to be insulted by and everyone on board seems in on the gag.

FROSTBITER: WRATH OF THE WINDIGO

(1995)

Dir - Tom Chaney

Overall: MEH

Regionally made and Troma-disturbed with many of the hallmarks of the latter production company's singular brand of trashploitation, Frostbiter: Wrath of the Windigo is a hit and miss bit of nonsense.  This was the first directorial effort from cinematographer Tom Chaney and the movie intentionally channels Sam Raimi's seminal Evil Dead just as countless other no-budget offerings have.  The tone is explicitly comedic and juvenile, but at least it manages to forgo jokes about flatulence, the elderly, handicapped people, and those with mental deficiencies.  Nudity is present yet limited and a minor quip is made about one of the characters being African American when the rest are obnoxious, gun-toting hillbillies doing obnoxious hillbilly shit on one of Lake Michigan's Manitou Islands.  The production aspects are laughably low and purposely showcased as such, most hilariously with a toy dinosaur ripping a pilot's head off in mid flight so that a toy plane can crash land close by a model cabin that later gets attacked by the stop-motion title creature.  All of the performers are doing their most convincing interpretations of bad acting and the soundtrack is of the patented, "twisting of the radio dial" Troma variety where full songs with vocals blare over every single scene so that much of the probably inane dialog is difficult to even make out.  It gets some of its stupidity right, but it also drags while trying too be so stupid.

1990s American Horror Part Forty

THE BORROWER

(1991)

Dir - John McNaughton

Overall: MEH

John McNaughton's follow-up to his seminal Henry: Portrait of a Serial Killer was the goofy, Cannon distributed The Borrower; something that the director admittingly took on primarily for the paycheck.  An unabashed B-movie with the premise of a convicted, extraterrestrial criminal who is given a human body and sent to Earth as punishment, the camp value is on the nose enough to forgive the abysmal plotting.  Mason Nage and Richard Fire's screenplay is ambitious yet comes off as if it was written on the fly, throwing in some police procedural drama, a human serial killer, a heavy metal band, homeless people, and a horny doctor all into the mix without bothering to establish any type of rules concerning the alien threat that has to keep ripping people's heads off to attach to its body that also then turns into the same actors whose heads were just ripped off.  There is plenty more dopey laziness than that, but McNaughton handles the material accordingly with its tongue properly in cheek.  Rae Dawn Chung is stuck playing it straight, though Tom Towles, Antonio Fargas, and Mädchen Amick get to have more fun with the proceedings, the cheap gore effects are hilarious icky, and some of the ridiculous set pieces are even clever on occasion.

 

JURASSIC PARK

(1993)

Dir - Steven Spielberg

Overall: GOOD

 

Though its plot inconsistencies are both numerous and laughable, (plus the tone is unabashed schlock), Steven Spielberg's top-tier adaptation of Michael Crichton's novel Jurassic Park became one of the biggest cinematic spectacles of any age and was historically paramount in ushering in the modern era of digital effects work.  As is predominantly the case, Industrial Light and Magic's CGI cannot hold a candle to how fantastic Stan Winston's practical animatronics look, but said computer generated imagery here has only mildly improved in the proceeding decades and ergo holds up well enough.  Crichton penned his own screenplay along with David Koepp; a screenplay which poses easily digestible moral conundrums involving mankind's use of science to interfere disastrously with nature.  It is more in the point A to point B framework that the movie crumbles under its own massive weight though.  Glaring oversights on the part of the characters, predictable foreshadowing, campy comic relief, and some narrative holes that a T-Rex could fit through are equal parts detrimental and also why it is so much fun.  This is largely due to the stellar cast and Spielberg's flawless delivery of popcorn spectacle that is silly, white-knuckled, mildly violent, and lightning-paced for easy consumption.  It remains a quintessential blockbuster that proved immediately iconic, spawning two different generations of franchises with diminishing returns that nevertheless, still manage to keep the dinosaur destruction enthusiasts perfectly happy.

 

THE FEAR

(1995)

Dir - Vincent Robert

Overall: WOOF

Despite the fact that Wes Craven makes bookending cameos for reasons that perhaps somebody out there can explain, The Fear is a completely unmemorable mess and an embarrassing stab at psychological horror.  The only film to be directed by usual screenwriter Vincent Robert, (though he oddly had no official part in penning the screenplay here, that unfortunate credit going to Ron Ford and Greg H. Sims), it sets up a simple if uninteresting premise of a college student and some friends going up to an isolated cabin for the weekend to work on his thesis about the nature of people's fears or whatever.  The fact that each and every character is thoroughly unlikable, none of them are properly fleshed-out, and their behavior is bafflingly inconsistent is arguably the biggest problem.  Yet the film also throws a life-sized, wooden mannequin into the equation that begins murdering people after merely appearing in odd places for over an hour, because horror movies are dumb.  The ending flies off the rails and becomes impossible to follow, but not before we are treated to a Rastafarian white guy with intimacy issues involving his best friend's girlfriend and his mom/sister maybe, some other asshole who gets all rapey with another girl, an uncle dressed as Santa Clause who is also an asshole, and an uncharismatic lead character who meets his former child self or something.

1990s American Horror Part Thirty-Nine

FREDDY'S DEAD: THE FINAL NIGHTMARE

(1991)

Dir - Rachel Talalay

Overall: MEH

 

Certainly one of the dumbest franchise installments ever made, (Friday the 13th, Leprechaun, Saw, Puppet Master, Child's Play, The Amityville Horror, and probably several other ones notwithstanding), Freddy's Dead: The Final Nightmare rightfully sort-of-not-really ended the Elm Street series, at least for a couple of way too short years.  In any event, this was the sequel that crescendoed the comedic elements to their breaking point.  By turning Freddy Krueger into a literal cartoon character, (with Looney Tunes gags, sound effects, and a partially animated 3D finale to boot), all previous coherency rules from the previous five films are tossed aside because as New Line Cinema properly surmised, nobody cared anyway.  As usual, the more that screenwriters delve into the backstory of a titular villain, the less interesting and frightening that they simultaneously become, but to the movie's credit, at least they seem to be purposely running this schlock train headlong into a brick wall.  On that note, amusing cameos by Johnny Depp, Roseanne Barr, Tom Arnold, and Alice Cooper, plus a strong emphasis on ridiculous nightmare sequences, (always the series' strong suit), and Robert Englund either trying way too hard or way too little, all makes the proceedings a moronic hoot for those who are in on the joke at least.

HIGHWAY TO HELL

(1992)

Dir - Ate de Jong

Overall: MEH

Following up Drop Dead Fred, (a film that eventually achieved cult status, as did this one), Dutch filmmaker Ate de Jong's Highway to Hell has its B-movie heart in the right place, but the sum of its campy parts fails to fully come together.  The third straight horror screenplay from Brian Helgeland, it has an acceptable premise where two recently engaged lovebirds find themselves on an isolated, Nevada stretch of interstate where a mute, burn-victim-faced patrolman kidnaps Kristy Swanson in order to deliver her to the Lord of Darkness.  This in turn sends Chad Lowe on a quest through the netherworld which is depicted as a post-apocalyptic, sunny, desert landscape full of bikers, strippers, hoodlums, and the overall damned.  Several of the set pieces are wacky fun, with solid special and make-up effects, especially where C.J. Graham's Hellcop and some horny demon gargoyles are concerned.  A handful of cameos color the proceedings, including Jerry Stiller as a wise-cracking police officer, Ben Stiller as a hillbilly cook, Lita Ford as a horny, Old West hussie, and Gilbert Gottfried as Adolph Hitler.  Unfortunately, the tone is inconsistent, as is the humor which mostly gets by on the inventiveness of the details as opposed to many of the jokes landing.  The material probably called for a more outrageous approach than the quasi-sincere one taken here, but what does work is admirable at least.

 

TICKS

(1993)

Dir - Tony Randel

Overall: MEH

 

As a creepy crawly, practical effects showcase, Ticks, (Infested), is a lot of fun for those who can withstand the mild aggravation of a merely point A to point B plot that is front-loaded with unlikable characters.  One of several horror films from director Tony Randel, the set-up serves its purpose to get a cabin full of people out in the woods where Clint Howard is mad scientisting marijuana plants, which of course results in chemical run-off that mutates ticks to dangerous size and aggression.  The fact that most of the adults and teenagers are present to conduct some kind of inner-city wilderness project is lame, as is the fact that they spend the majority of their time being mildly to aggressively nasty to each other.  This is even more prominent in the final act where two vile hillbillies enter the picture, resulting in more arguing and screaming as over-sized bugs attack everyone.  Doug Beswick's special effects are appropriately disgusting though, and watching fresh carcasses violently gyrate and explode while boatloads of critters emerge out of oozing slime sacks to scurry everywhere is what any audience member privy to such a movie is signing up for in the first place.  So at least that is delivered, plus Howard is always a hoot and Carlton himself Alfonso Ribeiro gets to act all hood, as well as getting the most over-the-top post-death scene out of the bunch.

1990s American Horror Part Thirty-Eight

SOULTAKER

(1990)

Dir - Michael Rissi

Overall: WOOF

 

The full-length debut Soultaker from director Michael Rissi was one of several American films released in 1990 to focus on characters interacting within some version of a parallel afterlife.  Regrettably, it is easily the lamest of the lot which should be obvious enough upon seeing only a top-billed Joe Estevez on the poster art.  Written by Vivian Schilling who also took on the lead role, it was inspired by a real life car accident that she was involved in, but the resulting film is pure accidental schlock that is undone by D-level production values, lousy performances, and embarrassing dialog.  Filmed over the course of five weeks for a quarter of a million dollars, the ambitious concept of young adults trying to outrun angels of death had to be reworked due to budgetary restraints and possibly the inexperience of Rissi behind the lens, as well as Schilling's screenwriter abilities.  Both Estevez, (as he is wont to do), and Robert Z'Dar look and act about as menacing as your parent's new age band and it plays out as a melodramatic, dopey series of set pieces that are too cheesy to take seriously.  Amazingly, a sequel was in the works or at least planned to be in the works with James Earl Jones and Faye Dunaway allegedly attached, which could have either brought some actual respectability to the proceedings or just been a wart in each of their filmographies.  We can only speculate.

 

DOLLY DEAREST

(1991)

Dir - Maria Lease

Overall: MEH

 

The ole, "supernaturally possessed doll that a child grows an unhealthy attachment to" gag is once again front and center, this time in the unabashedly schlocky Dolly Dearest.  Directed by script supervisor/occasional actor Maria Lease, this was her first offering from behind the lens that was not a porno and she helps give it the appropriate low-budget, straight-to-video tone for such a dopey genre offering, (even if this one technically had a limited theatrical release).  The star power consists of Denise Crosby, child actor Chris Demetral, and a presumably intoxicated Rip Torn with a Mexican accent who all find themselves dealing with a malevolent entity that is probably Satan, which they inadvertently let loose after unearthing an ancient Mayan tomb.  Though hardly the world's most unique premise, it serves enough of a purpose to differentiate this from every other Child's Play clone from the era.  The first two acts are a slog, Demetral's young character is an idiot, and the hackneyed plot points are bound to cause endless eyeball rolls.  When the resurrected evil starts making wisecracks and silly, animatronic puppet faces in doll form though, the movie finally picks up some campy steam, but it is hardly enough to ever want to revisit it again.

 

SERIAL MOM

(1994)

Dir - John Waters

Overall: GOOD

 

Released the same year that Oliver Stone did his over-the-top satire on societal infatuation with mass murderer celebrity in Natural Born Killers, John Waters offered up his own delightfully ridiculous commentary with Serial Mom.  Skewing cookie-cutter, domesticated Americana as something harboring various levels of hypocrisy, as well as violent acts that Church-going suburbia is all to quick to hold freaks and weirdos accountable for, (freaks and weirdos being Waters' chosen people to champion throughout his career), the movie is right on the nose with its lampooning of self-righteous values.  As the titular character, Kathleen Turner is ideally cast, playing her serial mom's dark, comedically exaggerated mental illness straight enough to be believable and allowing for the rest of Waters' purposely sugary presentation to slam home the absurdity of it all.  The gore and dialog is consistently hilarious, playing vulgarity for shock value that works not just to make the stereotypically sheepish characters gasp, but to also make the audience howl along with the jaunty, family-friendly music and everyone behaving as if they are in a Lifetime movie designed for the very soccer moms that are being sent up.  Of course being a John Waters film, there are several kitschy, pop culture references scattered about, as well as some of the director's familiar regulars that are fully in on the joke.

1990s American Horror Part Thirty-Seven

THE UNBORN

(1991)

Dir - Rodman Flender

Overall: WOOF

Up until the last twenty or so minutes, the Roger Corman produced The Unborn is merely a generic if harmless Rosemary's Baby/It's Alive hybrid that is not likely to wow audience members with its "originality".  The first full-length from director Rodman Flender and scripted by the schlock-peddling screenwriting duo of John Brancato and Michael Ferris, it lays out its cards early on where Brooke Adams and her on-screen husband hook up with Dr. James Karen in order to artificially have a child after several failed attempts.  Of course the doctor is up to no good and of course the miraculous critter growing in the womb is of malevolent intent, all becoming increasingly dull as it keeps wracking up the predictable plot points.  Adams is fine in the lead and the movie has some notoriety for featuring a cameo by Lisa Kudrow as well as a small part for Kathy Griffin, (both pre-fame), but this is hardly enough to retain one's interest.  Depending on the viewer's tolerance and/or preference for unintentional camp, the finale throws caution to the wind and becomes a hilarious series of set pieces involving an animatronic fetus, a laughably stupid reveal of the bad guy's scheme, over the top death sequences, and logical narrative blunders left and right, especially where Adam's character's clashing behavior is concerned.

FEAR

(1996)

Dir - James Foley

Overall: MEH

 

Released the same year as Wes Craven's Scream, the angsty 90s thriller Fear is a fitting companion piece in some respects, accurately described as Fatal Attraction for teens.  Scripted by Christopher Crowe and directed by James Foley, (both of whom had adjacent material under their belt by this point), it unfolds in a predictable manner that sees Mark Wahlberg's menacing psychopath manipulating his way into a family whose daughter is the object of his unhinged obsession.  That is until the finale that goes too hard in its gruesome implausibility to work.  The cast does an admirable job and this would serve as a star-making turn for Reese Witherspoon as the hapless victim, (with a twenty-four year old Alyssa Milano playing a highschooler who is supposed to be almost a decade younger, ah movies), but Wahlberg gets the juiciest part.  Gratuitously shirtless and with his unshakable Boston accent in tow, his mix of surface-level charm, warped psychosis, and unavoidable rage appropriately personifies any father's worst nightmare as far as their daughter's love interest is concerned.  Though it has a slick production, the derivative plot coupled with how icky and uncomfortable of a watch it is does not lend itself to repeated viewings, despite how attractive everyone is as well as all of the hip, alternative songs on the soundtrack

 

RESURRECTION

(1999)

Dir - Russell Mulcahy

Overall: MEH

 

For the fan of Se7en who thought that the one thing missing from said movie was schlock, Resurrection has you covered.  Based on a story by lead Christopher Lambert and reuniting him with Highlander director Russell Mulcahy, it is a very formulaic and very late 90s police procedural thriller that sticks to the main bullet points of a deranged killer with a biblical agenda who is always several steps ahead of the cops.  It is handled at a cruising pace, only slowing down for a few precious minutes early on to allow for Lambert to cry over his lost son.  Elsewhere, there is no subtlety, plenty of gore, and stock tough guy banter to carry things through where audience members will have a crystal clear time following the same beats that have been laid out in countless other campy action movies.  To the film's credit, the killer reveal is surprising enough and made more so by the fact that it comes while there is still a half-hour or so left in the running time.  Unfortunately though, this leads to a bumbling final act where the bad guy alludes capture yet again by defying the laws of physics, only to have an all-too-brief final encounter with Lambert that offers no further profound, melodramatic details and instead is unintentionally goofy.  It is far from a complete waste of time and David Cronenberg was bored enough to make a cameo as a priest, but just adjust your expectations accordingly.