Crossworlds (1996)

Rutger Hauer in 1982 did the impossible: He stole “Blade Runner” from Harrison Ford, copping the greatest ad-lib in film history, talking tears and attack ships. “Crossworlds” is no “Blade Runner,” or much of anything. It follows a college student (Josh Charles, later of “Sports Night”) who gets swept up in an adventure with powerful warriors (Hauer as the wise elder and Andrea Roth as the hot-head fighter) who can jump dimensions using magical sticks as they battle for the universe’s survival against a natty, nattering British type (Stuart Wilson). There’s a whole bit about Charles’ student’s dead father being a genius/archeologist/hero, but I forget the details. Plot holes abound, the story seems random, and I kept waiting for the pace to quicken after countless scenes of Wilson’s villain yammering about power, me thinking, please, someone kill someone. Threats of sequel arise. None ever came. Thank the gods. C-

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-

Time Lock (1996)

“Time Lock” is the kind of awful where you laugh not at what’s on screen –- OK, I did a bit of that -– but at yourself for foolishly waiting for something good to occur, a hint of brains from the folks in the credits. No doing. 

First: There is no time lock in “Time Lock.” Rather, we’re in the “‘Die Hard’ on a …” genre, where the unlikely hero (comedian Arye Gross) is a computer hacker sent to a space asteroid prison that’s taken over by a ninja-type (Jeffrey Meek) out to free his criminal mentor (Jeff Speakman). Robert Munic directs with a sledgehammer, every scene garishly louder than it needs to be, and every actor off his leash to just go nuts and make it look good because no one wants to waste film. Gross cracks jokes, flails arms, and does tricks. Magic, I mean. Not sex acts. 

A WTF scene: Our hero sets ninja guy on fire -- fully engulfed -– and in the next scene the dude has not a hair out of place. I thought of “Highlander.” Even for 1990s low-brow sci-fi fluff, “Time Lock” is a time killer. D

Trainspotting (1996)

Danny Boyle’s “Trainspotting” is an adrenaline shot of cinematic greatness about heroin addicts that dares show the quick pleasure of shooting up. Bob Dole balked. Idiot. No “ABC School Special” has ever shown an addict hand-fishing for a dropped stash in a shit-filled toilet, or a guy waking up slathered in diarrhea after losing his bowels, or an infant dying from neglect. This tale of poor Scots who see their parents struggling to earn a pound and figure why not shoot up, is the real deal writ large and depraved. It’s sickly fascinating to watch, a stoned mad-hatter film akin to “Clockwork Orange” or “Romper Stomper,” but to live it? No. Ewan McGregor is a guy who wants heroin over the big house, bigger TV, fancy car, and a job, and Boyle, writer John Hodge (taking on Irvine Welsh’s book) charge those commodities as no better than a shot of white liquid. Only an idiot, or a conservative, would see the finale as happy when a druggie says life will be OK with a wad of money. In a film full of sick jokes, it’s the most repugnant laugh of all. That said, this pales next to 2000’s stellar “Requiem for a Dream.” A

James and the Giant Peach (1996)

Stop-motion animation maestro Henry Selick gave us “The Nightmare Before Christmas” in 1993 and “Coraline” in 2009. Both are dark classics, more for child-like adults than children. Yet, his 1996 effort “James and the Giant Peach,” based on Roald Dahl’s book, has remained – sorry – a fuzzy memory. So, I gave it another watch. The set-up: Young orphan James (Paul Terry) escapes his cruel aunts via the giant fruit of the title, a massive, magical orb that houses friendly insects and spiders, and promises safe travel to New York City via land, sea and air. Selick surrounds this tale with a live-action opening and closing, both oddly foggy and painfully over-acted. But the animation is starkly beautiful – Selick takes us inside, around and over the peach, as puppet James and his friends cross the Atlantic. It’s the classic child-logic story every youngster, and some adults, wishes for. But “Peach” still is fuzzy, and never digs into the pit – sorry, again – of my brain. Jack Skellington appears in a good, scary bit. B

1996: Best and Worst

The Best
1. Fargo
2. Breaking the Waves
3. Trainspotting
4. Swingers
5. Independence Day (yeah, really)
6. Big Night
7. Sling Blade
8. Secrets & Lies
9. The English Patient
10. Fly Away Home

The Worst
5. Space Jam
4. In Love and War
3. Jack
2. The Fan
1. The Island of Dr. Moreau

Fargo (1996)

The Coen Brothers, whom I eternally adore, should have won an armful of Oscars for “Fargo,” a most excellent and most bleak comedy/thriller that doubles as a morality play so good, you could play it in church. If your place of worship allowed the screening of films were men are fed to a wood chipper. (Hey, it’s not like “Exodus” is squeaky clean, people. Roll with me.)

Set in northern Midwest, “Fargo” follows a loser car salesman named Jerry Lundegaard (William H. Macy) who hires two criminals (Steve Buscemi and Peter Stormare) to kidnap his wife in order to get a ransom from his rich father-in-law. Even Buscemi’s dim bulb doesn’t get that device, asking: “Why not just borrow the money?” As Mutt and Jeff later flee with the kidnapped wife, they kill three people on an icy length of North Dakota highway. Thus enters whip-smart local Marge Gunderson (Frances McDormand, who napped an Oscar) as a hugely pregnant police officer investigating the deaths.

The Coen Brothers clearly have their tongues firmly planted in cheek for most of this “true story” that plays like a grisly ode to Hitchcock’s best, and a satire of greed and stupidity. But damn if they don’t play the neatest card trick by having Marge and her painter husband (John Carroll Lynch of “Zodiac”) be the pinnacle of a moral, loving middle-aged couple. And then Marge gets to deliver a lecture on the senseless violence and greed that makes up much of the 90 minutes of plot. This kind of film can’t be duplicated. And many have tried. It was my favorite film of 1996.

The whole cast is top notch, but it’s Macy who stands out in a role that should have won him an Oscar. His Jerry is a clueless weasel who’s drowned even before he jumps into the swimming pool. And, yet, Macy makes it impossible to hate the man. His frantic emergency call to the old man is hilarious. A