True Lies (1994)

I loved James Cameron’s “True Lies” when I saw it in a Philadelphia cinema 21 years ago with a friend. I cheered the openly tongue-in-cheek story and action as Arnold Schwarzenegger as a secret U.S. spy demolishes Middle Eastern terrorists in downtown Miami, the fanatics threatening to destroy the city with a stolen nuclear warhead. In a scene still spectacular Ahnuld flies a Harrier jet up against a skyscraper and kills a villain with a ride on a missile. But, damn, this is an ugly sexist film. See, I was a very naïve 20 year old in 1994. Now I cringe at the entire midsection which has Schwarzenegger’s Harry Tasker going rage as he suspects his dumb, hapless wife (Jamie Lee Curtis) of cheating on him; him, a guy who’s done nothing but lie to her for two decades. See, Cameron has our hero kidnap and then psychologically torture the woman until she admits in fact she has committed no sin against her husband. (If she had!?!) Cameron seems to know his writing is vile. Side characters offer admonishments, almost as sideline commentary. But it still smacks of, “Keep watching. Keep laughing!” Cameron’s worst film. _­C+

Fierce Creatures (1997)

From the makers of wickedly-dark British crime satire “A Fish Called Wanda” – one of my favorites – comes “Fierce Creatures,” a surprisingly tame comedy despite the title. The entire cast of “Wanda” returns for this not-quite sequel, behind and in front of the camera. John Cleese plays the button-down ex-cop suddenly put in charge of a financially strapped zoo, purchased by a Murdoch-type corporate clown (Kevin Kline) with an obnoxious sex-obsessed son (Kline, again). As Wanda, sorry Willa, Jamie Lee Curtis is the smart, go-getter stuck in the middle, falling for Cleese, but tied to Kline’s weasel. It’s all the same, with gags repeated from not just “Wanda,” but Monty Python as well. (“It’s just a flesh wound!”) I constantly felt reminded of a far-better film I could easily re-watch, and a comedy troupe that will never be topped. Fierce? No. C+

Halloween (1978)

"Halloween" is one amazing bloody flick, buoyed by director-writer John Carpenter's classic score (it rivals "Jaws" in simplicity and sheer mind-blowing coolness), Jamie Lee Curtis as a screaming teen and a silent unstoppable killer in a Captain Kirk mask. The film opens with young Michael Myers slashing his freshly sexed teen sister to death. The boy is incarcerated until we rocket ahead 15 years as the grown Myers escapes from the mental ward and returns home. Michael's psychiatrist (Donald Pleasence, never better at combining indignant helplessness and then rage) says his charge has the devil in him, and he ain't lying. Myers moves quickly and like a demonic robot, and with never a wasted gesture. He says only one word the whole film. Yet he owns it. Who cares if Curtis is certainly no teen, Carpenter's cheapy horror masterpiece takes dead aim at rural America's precious suburban dream. It is no accident that the opening title says 1963. It's the year America woke up to real horror. A