The Terminator (1984)

The special effects in James Cameron’s “The Terminator” have aged terribly. Stop motion jitters. Robo Arnold Schwarzenegger head during the self-operation vibes snickering fake. But we can only blame (thank) James Cameron for the huge leap in special effects since then, including his remarkable “Abyss” (1989) and “Terminator 2” (1991). But this is still a crazy daring film that rest sci-fi standards. In grimy Los Angeles, two men –- Schwarzenegger and Michael Biehn -– appear naked inside a blue-like orb, lightning pops and crackles. Silent types, they quickly find or steel weapons and hunt after one woman, a waitress (Linda Hamilton) destined for greatness. Schwarzenegger to kill. Biehn to protect. Watching this recently, I thought back to the first time I saw “Terminator” how I had no idea what was happening, who was good, what Schwarzenegger was, and how the action would end, and I loved the VFX. Thirty-one years ago, wow. Cameron made his own career and christened Schwarzenegger a star, and that’s with a scene where he massacres several dozen LEOs. (Made today? Not a chance.) Cameron sells it. You know near every frame was fought over and after, beat into perfection of the time. Exhilarating. A

Nightcrawler (2014)

Imagine a dead serious “Network” written in the darkest pit of humanity, all humor strangled by an utter lack of empathy, with the journalism game run by any dick with a camera. That’s “Nightcrawler.” Jake Gyllenhaal plays Louis Bloom, a petty thief who one night finds his calling: Filming accidents, murders, house fires, and drive-bys, the fresher the gore the better for a top TV news slot. His “employer” is LA’s lowest-rated station, a bottom feeder with the mantra of fear sells. His “boss” is the vampire-hour editor (Renee Russo) who knows her middle age means job death. Bloom speaks in Internet PR babble, product comments, and tweets, using a deflated voice and spouting his love of accounting. He vibes Leo Bloom from “The Producers,” if Bloom had no soul. (Not Joyce Bloom.) Looking starved with bulging eyes, Gyllenhaal is a monster of success as he places civilians and police in harm’s way for a sell. Director/writer Dan Gilroy never judges, he shows us a mirror of journalism endlessly sinking in its race to hit ratings and print money, where cameras are as dangerous as guns. This is the world “Network” warned us about. A-

Chinatown (1974)

Halfway through Roman Polasnki’s perfect crime noir “Chinatown,” the femme fatale played by Faye Dunaway bumps a car horn with her head during a moment of distress. The noise startles her and seat mate PI Jake Gittes (Jack Nicholson). It is the coldest punch of foreshadowing I’ve ever seen, and I only noticed it on what may have been my 15^th (?) viewing. The next viewing I noticed a new twist: Gittes’ love of horses. That’s the beauty of Polanski’s tale of 1930s Los Angeles and ex-cop Gittes, who spies on wondering spouses, and wears fine suits. Plot: The wife of LA’s water engineer hires Gittes to bust her cheating husband, except the woman isn’t the engineer’s wife, and when the man turns up dead, Gittes realizes he’s been played. Gittes takes action. Except the cruel joke of “Chinatown” is Gittes is a fool, so lost and clueless the deeper he sinks into ancient familial evil, by film’s end he is left in shock, helpless. Robert Towne gets the screenplay credit, but Polanski wrote the unnerving finale. Polanksi’s direction is as smooth as jazz, with perfect interior car shots. As the villain, John Huston plays a monster for the ages. A+

This is the End (2013)

“This is the End” is a Hollywood-insider joke from the stoner club of Seth Rogen and pals, lathered in endless jokes about pot, jerking off, L.A. life, and bromances, with two running gags that make it worth at least one watch. First: James Franco stars as himself, playing up his apparent homosexuality by obsessing over Rogen (as himself) with scary devotion. The second: Emma Watson plays an ax-wielding bad-ass Emma Watson. “Hermione stole all our shit,” said by Danny McBride, has to be the funniest line of the year. The plot: Rogen and pot pal -– if you don’t like drug jokes, just stay away -– Jay Baruchel join a party thrown by Franco at the latter’s phallic-heavy home with booze and drugs free-flowing until the shit hits the world fan: Earthquakes, fires, monsters, and angry Watson. Typical Hollywood, every disaster here is from some other movie, borrowed and cleaned-up new, with the best riffs from “Ghostbusters” and “Rosemary's Baby.” Why not, eh? The end of “The End” may play a bit sacrilegious for some, but my worst beef came from the too self-satisfied smirk on everyone’s face. That said, I laughed my ass off. B+

Escape from L.A. (1996)

“Escape from L.A.” has to be joke. Whether it’s on or with the audience, I cannot say for sure. John Carpenter’s sequel to the 1981 cult hit “Escape from New York” marks the riotously silly return of monosyllabic, one-eyed, not very bright, but ass-kicker king Snake Plissken (Kurt Russell, who also co-wrote the film) as he’s again dropped into a future hellhole American city with another do-or-die mission. The special effects range from mildly ugly to unfit for a film school entry and the music score is torture. Carpenter and Russell, though, take grinning digs at Los Angeles life, plastic surgeries as “House of Wax” horror, and –- best of all -- create a political satire more relevant even now. This America is in 2013, with a Jesus freak Virginian as president bent on exiling all “sinners,” with the White House in Lynchburg, home of the wrongly named Liberty University. Ken Cuccinelli could be this prez, if he’s ever given the chance. Don’t fret, righties. Lefties get the pole with a Che Guevara knock-off. Both sides, screwed raw in the back. Nice. The action is knowingly laughable, with Pam Grier as a *man* who can fly. Sort of. B-

The Asphalt Jungle and Armored Car Robbery (both 1950)

All crime films should be made in black and white. (Imagine “Heat” with no colors.) Bearing proof of this are two 1950 heist films that have police on the trail of thieves facing more troubles than jail time in “Armored Car Robbery” and “The Asphalt Jungle.” The former is barely longer than an hour and has a story just worth its likely 10-cent short origin, while the latter is dark, massive, and deep, a classic for the ages. Oh, and it has a very young Marilyn Monroe, before she became Marilyn Monroe. And she is damn good.

“Armored” centers on professional thief Dave Purvis (William Talman), a crook who thrives on his gift of having no attachments, be they emotional or concrete. (De Niro’s “Heat” crook could be this guy’s son.) Purvis heads up the daylight robbery of a (go on, guess) armored truck smack in front of L.A.’s Wrigley Field, kills a cop, and spends the rest of the film avoiding police, ditching his crew six feet under, and doing a piss poor job of cutting strings to the dame (Adele Jergens) he’s screwing. The story is so paper thin and the characters one-dimensional, this registers more as a TV one-shot than a big-screen tale. That said, director Richard Fleischer shows beautiful (and gritty) L.A. locales in bright light and dark shadow, from City Hall to dockyards and motels to working class homes just feet from Wrigley. How much of this exists now? Not much I guess.

Directed by John Houston,“Jungle” is crime noir perfected. Sterling Hayden plays Dix, a “hooligan” who gets hired as the enforcer in a (Chicago?) diamond heist headed by an elderly criminal known as “Doc” (Sam Jaffe). Doc reluctantly trusts the loot fencing to a lawyer named Emmerich (Louis Calhern), and the suit pulls a double cross, with murder and suicide dropping fast as police -– honest and corrupt, each with agendas -– close in. Monroe plays married Emmerich’s lover, and dude has a fetish for her shoes. This film truly broke the mold. See, “Jungle” dared speak reality in 1950, showing thieves as just men who for various reasons -– abandonment or disability -– use crime to survive, and police as willing to let deeds slide for cash. Somehow, maybe just because “Jungle” is so good, Houston survived the flag-waving censors pushing the lie of America as a Mecca of virtue. Dix is tough, brave, fatally obsessed, and the most honest character here. This is gold material, from Emmerich forced to play cards with his wife to the final shot of Hayden among several curious horses. They don’t make them like this anymore. Our loss.

Armored: B / Asphalt: A+

The Untouchables (1987) and Gangster Squad (2013)

Double bill: Brian De Palma’s “The Untouchables” with Elliot Ness versus Al Capone, and “Gangster Squad,” with L.A. cops against Mickey Cohen. Both are true cops-and-mobs stories repainted with Hollywood final blowout action scenes. Why allow Frank Nitti his suicide when Ness can toss him off a building? “Squad” plays looser with truth. 

Such is film. Facts hit the floor faster than bodies. In 200 words, my take downs on these mob take-down films.

“Untouchables” –- also based on the rah-rah TV show – follows Eagle Scout/U.S. Treasury agent Ness (Kevin Costner) as he brings in three like-minded heroes (Sean Connery as wise old cop, Andy Garcia as hothead cop, and Charles Martin Smith as nerd cop) to nail Robert De Niro’s Capone. Smart casting and smart-looking film. 

It smells of Chicago and spent bullets. De Palma and screenwriter David Mamet put us in gorgeous locales -– trains station, courthouses, and filthy red alleyways. Dialogue pops like spent lead: Connery barking about knives at a “gun party” is classic. 

I was 13 in ’87 and this became my Instant Favorite Film. The violence, male bravado, scope, and that shoot-out on the stairs. It’s a stellar cops-and-gangsters fantasy for… teenage boys. I’m wiser now, and the red-blood love has waned. This is a sloppy-ass film riddled with dubious continuity errors -– moving corpses, that wondering elevator in the assassination scene, a terrible voice dub throughout, and logic tossed aside in a courtroom finale. Too many scenes make me cringe. 

Was De Palma so in love with his own (admittedly great) style, he forgot the importance of details? Hell if I know. Costner is too fantastic to care. B+

“Squad” whiffs fake as “Untouchables” feels immersed in Chicago lore. You can smell the wet paint. I read Ellroy. Call me biased. Josh Brolin is WWII Army Special Forces vet John O’Mara, now a cop assigned to stop New York-bred Cohen (Sean Penn) from becoming the West Coast Capone.

O’Mara is very Ness to the point I believe writer Will Beall watched “Untouchables” on repeat. Lines are lifted whole. O’Mara also has his three heroes: Robert Patrick as wise old cop, Ryan Gosling as hothead cop, and Giovanni Ribisi as nerd cop. Toss in retro-progression with Anthony Mackie as a black patrolman and Michael Pena as a Hispanic flatfoot named Navidad. (Cringe.) 

Plot: O’Mara’s guys shoot the shit out of Cohen’s guys, who do the same back. Penn is comically spittle-tossing evil, his performance falls into hysterics. I laughed my ass off when a ridiculously dickensesque shoeshiner gets whacked. I gather director Ruben Fleischer (“Zombieland”) wasn’t going for giggles among the blood and rape. 

As Ness says, “You aren’t from Chicago.” Do not pretend. C

Rock of Ages (2012)

Worst fuckin’ episode of “Glee” I ever watched. And it lacks anyone half as cool as Chris Colfer. Blockbuster wannabe “Rock of Ages” tosses Tom Cruise, Alec Baldwin, Russell Brand, Bryan Cranston, Catherine Zeta-Jones, and Paul Giamatti, plus two shiny youths -- Julianne Hough and Diego Boneta –- in an insipid mix-tape, mashed-up, lip-sync heavy rock story (sound familiar?) about fame and love that leans slightly more dangerous than “Bye Bye Birdie.” If “Birdie” were set in 1987. That’s the year “Ages,” based on a Broadway hit likely snipped of its balls on its way to the screen, takes place, when Poison, Def Leppard, and Jon Bon Jovi ruled MTV, radio, and record stores. Tone deaf from frame one with a sing-along Night Ranger bus ride, “Ages” sock hops between celebrating rock n’ roll big hair hedonism and giving a mocking F.U. finger to anyone who longs for vinyl records. Not that it matters. Our rock stars here drink, but never get drunk. Flirt and strip, but never screw. Drugs? No. Never. This is Wal-Mart rock, scrubbed clean for the kids who once listened to Quiet Riot, but now vote Romney, and party in PG-13 style. D+

Assault on Precinct 13 (1976)

John Carpenter’s cult-classic, >$100,000-budget action thriller “Assault of Precinct 13” is the parent to all “siege” movies that would come a decade later, including “Die Hard.” Itself a modern re-make of “Alamo”-type flicks, this also was to be set in the West, but Carpenter could not swing the budget. The bare plot: A mysterious pack of gang members attack a L.A. ghetto police station on the eve of its closure, trapping a stalwart African-American officer (Austin Stoker), several women, and convicted felons (including Darwin Joston) inside. “Assault” is a midnight feature that can play as a maybe-zombie film -– the gang members dabble with bowls of blood and are all but suicidal. Deep-thoughts: It’s a post-Vietnam American meltdown, or a satire on 1950s films that celebrated white heroics and all but demeaned blacks, flipped on its, middle finger held out proud. But the heck with deep anything, this is a blazin’ cool cheap “B” flick that excels its origins and is seriously nasty fun. The title, by the way, is infamously wrong. The besieged station is District 13, Precinct 9. “Assault of Precinct 9”? Hmmm. Na. “13.” B+

End of Watch (2012)

A heap of movie critics (even Ebert) are throwing praise on “End of Watch” -– a visceral, bloody, gut-punch police drama/thriller than goes against the endless grain of cops as corrupt, greedy, psychotic thugs -- as one of the best films of the year. It could have been. Damn it comes close, often with pitch-perfect dialogue, and harshly with haunting violence. But gimmicks from 1999 abound with shaky-cam overload -- times 10.

Dig it James Ellroy style: Jake Gyllenhaal gives his career-best showing (and he’s been good for years, especially in “Jarhead”) as Brian Taylor, a veteran Marine now working a black-and-white on Los Angeles’ toughest streets, South Central, a land of shit streets, crap homes, and closed businesses plagued by poverty, drugs, guns, and the growing power of Mexican drug cartels that know no border. It’s a near Third World, except the bad guys carry gold-plated AK-47s in some sick “Scarface” fantasy world come true. 

Taylor’s partner is Mike Zavala, a Hispanic-American with a wife and 3.5 children, played by Michael Pena. The men are brothers. Not by blood. But the job. Each will take a bullet or more for one another. No questions asked. The men bullshit banter in the squad car in the best movie back-and-forth since “Pulp Fiction,” but when the hammer drops, they are stone silent and careful, especially when they stumble upon a massive crime spree of human-trafficking and other horrors all right under their noses. They also “fight” the “parents,” that is, the Sarge and all the powers-that-be at work, but playfully. Zavala is the settled one, smart and cautious, Taylor is gung-ho and first out of the car.

The film, written and directed by David Ayer (he wrote Training Day”) drops us in this L.A. Story with no escape, and he shows the ugliest scenes –- ghastly murders, grpahic assaults, endless deaths, and child abuse -– with no let up. The settings never smack of a film set, or some obvious stand-in. I have never been to South Central L.A., but this feels real, down to the litter and alleys and bars on house windows. 

But damn it, where Ayer goes maddeningly wrong is in a ridiculous decade-old plot contrivance that has Taylor touting around digital cameras 24/7 to film his life on the job for an art class. (We never see the guy in class, despite his wanting to earn a law degree.) For all the on-the-street realism Ayers constantly pushes, I call “bullshit” on any relatively intelligent officer anywhere in the world, much less South Central L.A., that would enter potential hot spots and crime scenes carrying a freakin’ camera in one mitt and one-handing his side arm in the other. Especially for a Marine such as Taylor. 

Even what little I know as an ex-crime reporter, when entering an unknown location, searching room by room, any police officer keeps his hands, both hands, on his or her weapon because that weapon will save his or her life. Nothing. Else. Matters. Disagree? Ask a cop. Ask a soldier, for that matter. (If your partner chooses a Sony over a Glock, seriously, trade the hell up.) Call it a movie, sure. I get it, fantasy. But, guess what? The soulless gang members also happen to carry around cameras to share their exploits. For art class, too? YouTube? All this “Blair Witch” shaky-cam crap is mixed in with normal cinema capture, from the sky, floor, whatever, after Taylor’s camera is down. 

I dig and appreciate Ayer’s attempts at showing what policemen and women face each day, the gallows humor they (absolutely true) employ to stay sane, and a refusal to show every cop as worse than the bad guys (I’m look at you “Freelancers” and “Safe” and 1,005 other films), but he should have stuffed the gimmicks and played the film straight. This seriously could have been well atop my Top 10 List of the year. But for the gimmicks.

 God bless Pena. A consistently great actor in “Crash” and “The Lincoln Lawyer” and a few dozen other films, he gives an amazingly tough, smart, funny, and humane performance here. His officer is a full human being, jumping off the page. Watch his horrified silent reaction as he comes across a squalid dungeon full of Mexicans held as drug-runner slaves, and, damn, the man deserves an Oscar nomination. And leading man status on par with Gyllenhaal and any other actor out there. B

GoodFellas (1990) and Heat (1995)

Watching Robert De Niro burn his unparalleled talents in shit such as “Little Fockers” or “Righteous Kill,” it’s unbelievable that just 20 years ago he had two of the best films in his storied career and of the decade under his belt. “GoodFellas” – directed by Martin Scorsese – and “Heat” – directed by Michael Mann – are crime genre classics, eternally re-watchable and endlessly fascinating. The man is a monster in both films, of cinematic talent, and of men’s character. 

“GoodFellas” opens with this line, spoken by Ray Liotta as Henry Hill, a Bronx-born hood who was mobbed up by age 14: “Ever since I can remember, I always wanted to be a gangster.” Wow. This is Hill’s story, from rise to vast rule to ketchup and egg noodles in the Midwest. De Niro is his mid-level mob boss. Joe Pesci costars in an infamously profane and violent performance so shocking, it’s bewildering to know the man he plays was far more dangerous. The film is flawless, so amazing good and detailed (the food alone!), it’s a thrill to behold for a 15^th viewing. My words do not do it justice. 

In “Heat,” De Niro is a master criminal of a high-end gang (Val Kilmer and Tom Sizemore co-headline his crew) being chased by an obsessive detective (Al Pacino, also scraping bottom in “Righteous” and “88 Minutes”) in Los Angeles. We also follow the cop’s home life as Mann’s three-hour epic film spreads far and wide, almost too wide – an icky serial killer plot thread goes nowhere. The actions scenes are you-are-there-real and spectacular, including a long finale outside the Los Angeles airport that boomed in a theater.

De Niro is the star of both, the ballast holding each film together, keeping the madness, violence, crazy details, and other actors (Pacino goes “PACINO” a few times) cemented and whole, but let it be known these worlds are the creation of, respectively, Scorsese and Mann, both in unmatched top form. Know this: “GoodFellas” was based on a true story, but “Heat” inspired a criminal duo to pull off a daring bank robbery that eerily mimicked the mid-section scene here.

GoodFellas: A+ Heat: A

Alien Armageddon (2011)

“Alien Armageddon” is one a series of independent micro-budgeted flicks with bit-part actors as leads, Mac-laptop-made special effects, and a biblical spin to a well-worn tale: The aliens attack Earth and cook up an evil plot against humanity genre, with the survivors – here, a shop-owner mom (Katharine McEwan) and a murderous cowboy (Don Scribner) included – fighting back. Seen anything like this before? The wholesale cheap sets and locations, and vagueness of a big picture ironically work as writer/director Neil Johnson is open for surprises awesome (are the aliens of God?) and unnecessary (a WTF lesbian scene). It’s an ugly flick, for sure, but it’s more curious about what THEY are, versus normal Hollywood dribble such as “Cowboys& Aliens” or “Battle: Los Angeles,” the latter of which this film was once titled. Be warned: This is not a film to eat by, or for women who are pregnant or thinking about becoming pregnant. B-

This Means War (2012)

“This Means War” exists for one reason: Make college girls debate who’s hotter, the guy who was Kirk in the new “Star Trek,” or the Brit guy from “Inception.” My wife and I heard the chatter as the credits rolled. So, in a sense, “War” succeeds. Not for me. This ugly flick requires smart, self-assured actress Reese Witherspoon to play the fool, and she is no fool. The plot: Chris Pine (Kirk) and Tom Hardy (Brit guy) play “GQ” blowhard CIA agents both wooing a lonely commercial market researcher (Witherspoon) for sport. Lauren is so shocked that two men (!) would pay her amorous attention that she falls oblivious to each man’s outlandish lies and eerily perfect dates, so we in the audience snicker at what a slack-jawed, wide-eyed rube she is. Of course, Lauren learns the truth and forgives instantly. Toss in much nonsensical guns and chases, boom, movie! Try and get past the following: Pine’s lothario meets Lauren at a DVD rental store; the men stalk and spy on Lauren, and it’s meant to be funny; and Pine and Hardy spark hotter chemistry with each other than with Wiherspoon. Hmm. McG directs, without mercy. C-

The Perfect Host (2011)

“The Perfect Host” is a home-invasion flick – I have seen several recently, why I don’t know - - that flips the genre rules with pitch-black comedy galore, before a third-act switcheroo stumbles hard and fast. We open on a guy (Clayne Crawford) who’s just used a silly Hunter S. Thompson disguise to rob a L.A. bank, only to get robbed by a young woman at a drug store. The flummoxed guy then decides to crash a nearby house, taking a hostage. He choices an artsy-fartsy home owned by a waif of a man (David Hyde Pierce of “Frasier”) who starts out prissy weak and then evolves ape shit crazy. Oops. I won’t say more, except to repeat that the ending tanks with a character reveal that thuds like a bad game of telephone. Pearce lets loose with a twisted grin, purposefully playing off the Niles we all love. If writer/ director Nick Tomnay’s Sundance hit ended 20 minutes sooner, it could have been perfectly fun. B-

Battle: Los Angeles (2011)

“Battle: Los Angeles” is a B-popcorn flick on mega-steroids, proudly patriotic, with an enemy that deserves every bullet coming at them. Dig it: High-tech monsters go for an all-out attack on Earth, and battle a platoon of U.S. Marines. Our heroes kick ass. Explosions galore! Gallant speeches! Self-sacrifices! Flag salutes! But “Battle” is a loud, obnoxiously edited rat-a-tat video game that serves up a headache, and things really get ugly when people speak. At one point, our main hero (Aaron Eckhart) gives one of those teary “I lost men” speeches and he says the names of his fallen men “stick in (his) head like a bad joke,” and the movie just vaporizes. I had to laugh. The devastated L.A. cityscapes thrill, but the aliens are badly rendered with Big Lots CGI that looks fuzzy, and I never forgot these actors are pretending to blow shit up, and not very well. This is “District 9” and “Monsters” for dummies, a pale child of “Aliens” and 100 other better films. C-