Reeling Backward: "The Wicker Man" (1973)

I somehow never got around to seeing "The Wicker Man," even though you'd think it was right up my alley as a kinky/kooky '70s horror flick with a strong cult following. I mean, the man who reveres "Children Shouldn't Play with Dead Things" would have to hold "Wicker" close to his mildewed heart, yes?

It's arguably been overshadowed by the 2006 remake directed by Neil LaBute and starring Nicolas Cage, which despite being a commercial flop has come to be appreciated as part of the "Nic Cage going batshit" oeuvre, of which I am not a devotee.

For me, that sort of thing pretty much peaked around "Vampire's Kiss."

The first thing I was struck by was how musical the 1973 film is, directed by Robin Hardy from a screenplay by Anthony Shaffer, based on the novel "Ritual" by David Pinner. It's virtually a non-stop song, segueing from one piece of music to another driving the story, with certain sung refrains repeated several times.

Mostly it works, though I'll say I could gladly see the end of my days without again encountering, "Corn rigs and barley rigs, and corn rigs are bonny; I'll not forget that happy night, among the rigs with Annie." (Sung by Paul Giovanni, adapted from the song by Robert Burns.)

Many of the songs are overtly sexual in nature, befitting the residents of Summerisle off the west coast of Scotland, who are gleeful phallus-worshiping pagans. It seems the family of noblemen who own/rule the island -- Christopher Lee plays the latest Lord -- stumbled open the old gods as a way to control and motivate the locals, and after more than a century the ploy became part of their culture.

Edward Woodward plays Neil Howie, a police sergeant sent over from the mainland to investigate the disappearance of a 12-year-old girl, Rowan Morrison (Geraldine Cowper). He received this tip in the form of a letter, there apparently not being any phone service to Summerisle, even though they have electricity and modern machinery.

Howie is an ardent Christian, and supposedly a virgin who is engaged to be married. (A bit of a stretch, as Woodward was in his early 40s at the time.) He is put off by the passive belligerence nature of the islanders, who insist they don't recognize a photo of Rowan. Even her own supposed mother (Irene Sunter) disavows ever having such a child.

Consternation gives way to mortification when he encounters their promiscuous ways, with couples openly coupling in the park next to the inn at night, women cavorting nude in the graveyard and similarly unclothed girls performing ritualistic dances at a Stonehedge-like structure in broad daylight. A local shop stocks pickled brains and foreskins along with other gulp-including oddities.

The townsfolk seem genuinely puzzled by the policeman's reaction, since to them Christianity is the moldy old religion and their own beliefs are vibrantly in the present. The Summerisle residents are basically free love hippies in their beliefs, though they speak and dress (when they're dressed) like regular Scottish folk.

This goes on for about an hour of screen time, as Howie continues his investigation despite running into one dead end after another. It gets rather old after while, as the same dynamic -- "I'm so shockingly shocked!" -- repeats over and again.

Certainly the most memorable scene is Howie's first night on the island at the Green Man Inn. The innkeeper, MacGregor (Lindsay Kemp), introduces the sergeant to his daughter, Willow (Britt Ekland), and the entire pub spontaneously launches into a song about how everyone has bedded her. Rather than being affronted, Willow delights in the attention.

That evening she strips off her clothes and begins rhythmically pounding on the walls adjoining Howie's room as yet another musical interlude begins playing to assist her siren's call. The policeman feverishly cringes and moans on the other side, as if his own lust is a spell that he must resist.

The sight of Ekland writhing and dancing to the music is quite... enervating, climaxing with her slapping her own ass several times to the beat. Fairly freaky stuff for 1973.

Interestingly, though Ekland plays the physical part of Willow, Annie Ross supplied her voice and yet another actress, Rachel Verney, dubbed in for a bit of singing.

I'll skip ahead to the spoiler-y part and reveal that Rowan's disappearance is just an elaborate ruse so Howie could be lured to the island and sacrificed to the old gods. It seems their crops failed the previous year, and instead of the usual pigs and chickens a more substantial offering is required to ensure it doesn't happen again.

Of course, this begs the question of why the villagers would strive so hard to bed the sergeant with Willow, since they supposedly need a virgin for the sacrifice.

Lee is quite evidently having a grand old time in this role, which he and screenwriter Shaffer cooked up together as an effort to break out of the cycle of cheap Hammer and similar cheapie horror films he was then trapped in. His Lord Summerisle is effete and haughty, dressing in baroque clothing and making stern pronouncements from on high.

Notably, he does not himself indulge in any of the fleshy delights he continually encourages. At one point he is seen playing music with Miss Rose (Diane Cilento), the school teacher with whom Howie had earlier clashed.

Woodward is quite a stiff neck, though that's the way the part is written. The last bit, where he's placed inside a giant wicker man statue that's set ablaze, raining down psalms and curses with a vigorous spray of rolling Scottish R's, plays as hammy unintended comedy.

Google-eyed character actor Aubrey Morris, best remembered as the conniving Mr. Deltoid from "A Clockwork Orange," turns up as the local gravedigger, constantly sniggering at a joke only he knows.

"The Wicker Man" was the first film directed by Hardy, who would only go on to make two others many years apart: "The Fantasist" in 1986 and 2011's "The Wicker Tree," which shares thematic elements with "Man." It went through several title changes before settling on one to piggyback on nostalgia for the original and then-recent remake. (At one point the title was "Cowboys for Christ," and Hardy published a novelization of his screenplay using this title.)

Reputedly Hardy was trying to crowdsource funding for a third film to complete a haphazard trilogy, but he died in 2016 before it came to fruition. He spent much of the intervening years between his few film projects writing novels, making TV commercials and even helping create historical theme parks.

There's surprisingly little violence in "The Wicker Man" for a horror film -- it doesn't even show Sergeant Howie being consumed by the flames. I think one scene where he beats up the innkeeper to disguise himself in the man's costume is as gruesome as things get.

It's more an intellectual and mood thriller, slowly building up its boiling pot. All in all, Summerisle seems like a pretty good place to live, what with all the free sex and dancing and such. If all such bliss requires is one obdurate policeman burned to a crisp once every century or so, I think many people would call that heaven on earth.

At least, it makes for a slow-moving but delightfully original flick that's still burning up people's imaginations a half-century on.

Video review: "The Hobbit: The Battle of Five Armies"

With the final film in the “Hobbit” trilogy, the Tolkien train has finally rumbled to its last cinematic stop -- assuming, that is, that director Peter Jackson & Co. aren’t intending to turn the barely readable “The Silmarillion” into a 57-part television series.

(Shhh… don’t give them ideas.)

I’ve appreciated the scope and splendor of this 13-year enterprise to turn one of my most beloved literary touchstones into movies that have been, by and large, magical. But if I could give a two-word review of “The Hobbit: The Battle of Five Armies,” it would be “too much.”

There are too many secondary characters and side plots, most of them greatly expanded from things barely whispered at in author J.R.R. Tolkien’s slender tome -- or simply invented out of whole cloth by the filmmakers.

As you can guess from the title, the tale of a band of dwarves trying to reclaim their mountain kingdom from a dragon usurper ends with a massive war wherein the various races of Middle-earth squabble over the spoils. Humble hobbit Bilbo Baggins (Martin Freeman) is literally caught in the middle, and his choices have an outsized effect on the course of history.

Other key players include Thorin Oakenshield (Richard Armitage), heir to the dwarven throne and ensorcelled by the foul magic of the dragon’s gold; Gandalf (Ian McKellen), wise wizard and counselor to the adventurers; Bard (Luke Evans), the stout warrior who brings down the beast; Thranduil (Lee Pace), the headstrong elven monarch; Legolas (Orlando Bloom), Thranduil’s son and carryover from the “Lord of the Rings” trilogy; Tauriel (Evangeline Lilly), a totally invented and unnecessary female elf warrior; and Azog (Manu Bunnett), the fearsome albino orc leader.

The battle scenes are epic in scope, but the gentle story of a hobbit’s journey there and back again gets swallowed.

Bonus features consist of five making-of featurettes: “Recruiting the Five Armies,” “Completing Middle-earth,” “The Last Goodbye: Behind the Scenes,” “The Last Goodbye Music Video” and “New Zealand: Home of Middle-earth, Part 3.”

As with the previous two movies, in a few months they will release a special extended version of “The Hobbit: The Battle of Five Armies” with an expanded cut of the film and better extras. Though what they could possibly add to this overstuffed meal, I can’t imagine.

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Review: "The Hobbit: The Battle of Five Armies"

Unlike the triumphant finale of the three “The Lord of the Rings” films, the last movie in “The Hobbit” trilogy feels more like the grateful collapse at the end of an overlong marathon.

With regards to “The Hobbit: The Battle of the Five Armies,” the audience won’t exactly be exclaiming, “Thank goodness that’s over!” But like an overambitious runner who found they’d signed up for a more grueling race than anticipated, the series concludes with quite a bit less enthusiasm and energy than when it started.

As I’ve said in my reviews of the previous two movies: the Middle-Earth of author J.R.R. Tolkien is perhaps my most treasured mythological playground. I grew up adoring these books, dreaming of hobbits, orcs, magical rings and dragons. You could set pretty much any story in this realm and I’d be first in line to buy a ticket.

But director Peter Jackson and his co-screenwriters have so twisted, changed and augmented Tolkien’s straightforward tale that it barely even deserves to have “The Hobbit” in its title. They’ve expanded slender storylines into major themes; turned behind-the-scenes events barely hinted at into full-blown subplots; and in many cases, just plain ol’ made a bunch of crap up.

It’s still a rousing picture after a slow start – things don’t really get going into the titular battle is joined.

In case you don’t remember, humble hobbit Bilbo Baggins (Martin Freeman) had been plucked by deposed dwarven heir to the throne Thorin (Richard Armitage) and meddling wizard Gandalf (Ian McKellen) to help reclaim the Lonely Mountain taken over long ago by a fearsome dragon.

As this movie opens, the great wyrm Smaug (voice by Benedict Cumberbatch) has been roused from his slumbers and is attacking Lake-town, the tiny fishing village built on docks into the lake next the mountain. Dutiful bowman Bard (Luke Evans) takes up arms against the dragon and brings him down.

But Thorin, driven mad by a lust for gold from “dragon sickness,” refuses to share any of the great wealth of the mountain with the refugees of Lake-town. And he certainly wants nothing to do with the elven king Thranduil (Lee Pace), who previously kept the company prisoner and now wants his own slice of the pie.

It seems likely to come to a nasty conflict, but meanwhile the Orc armies led by the terrifying Azog (Manu Bennett) are bearing down on them all. The last half of the movie or so is essentially just a bunch of swordplay.

In the book Bilbo got knocked unconscious at the start of the fighting, and thus everything that transpired went undepicted. Jackson & Co., of course, couldn't do that with a big-budget spectacle, so we get a whole raft of CGI beheadings and splatterings (though curiously bloodless, to keep the PG-13 rating intact).

The best of the "add-on" material involves the effort by Gandalf and other powerful sorcerers -- including Galadriel (Cate Blanchett) and Saruman (Christopher Lee) -- to force out the evil force that has invaded the fortress of Dol Guldur. As we know, it turns out to be the shade of Sauron, who will go on to cause more trouble down the road. It's a brief but thrilling side excursion.

Other new material is less successful, especially a contrived romance between one of the dwarves and an entirely concocted female elf character (Evangeline Lilly). This results in a love triangle with familiar friend Legolas (Orlando Bloom), plus his daddy issues with the king, and a journey up north that appears to serve no narrative purpose at all.

I was thrilled with what this team of filmmakers did with the "Lord of the Rings," occasionally altering the navigation but keeping the terrain intact. Here, though, they seem like they weren't content with the tale Tolkien spun, and decided to supplant it with their own.

It's still a decent fantasy flick; it's just not "The Hobbit."

Review: "Hugo"

"Hugo" is an often-delightful movie that always kept me guessing. It's got a lot of Charles Dickens mixed with a little steampunk fantasy, layered with a rich frosting of tribute to early 20th century silent filmmaking.

In a world where most movies seem to make the entirety of themselves obvious the moment they begin, it was a pleasurable experience to have a film that took its time establishing itself. There doesn't seem to be much of a coherent story for a great deal of the time, just a sprawling group of characters who don't appear to be behaving for the camera. Slowly, though, themes and urgencies coalesce.

This is perhaps the most uncharacteristic movie Martin Scorsese has made, and not just because it's a children's movie, and contains tons of CGI and was shot in 3-D, no less. For once, the 3-D is not just an add-on to pump up ticket grosses, but actually enhances the cinematic experience by adding layers and textures without spotlighting them for their own sake.

The visuals are gorgeous and lush, almost painterly in their evocation of 1930s Paris in winter. The gently twinkling lights, the crisp white snow, the people who dress up in suits and gowns for a simple trip to the train station -- it's a feast for the eyes.

No, this is a departure for Scorsese because he's not exploring his usual theme, the human savagery hidden by urban society. He has made a paean to the dreamers, magicians and tinkerers who strive to reshape their world into something beautiful. This is a story of hope and striving, not sorrow and loss.

Asa Butterfield (who starred in the criminally unappreciated "The Boy in the Striped Pajamas") plays Hugo Cabret, an orphan boy who lives inside the clocks and mechanical guts of the Paris train depot. His uncle, the timekeeper, has long ago disappeared in a drunken fling, and Hugo's clockmaker father died. So he's tragically, achingly alone.

Hugo peers through the clock faces and steam grates at the denizens of the train station, with two figures holding most of his attention. One is the station inspector (Sacha Baron Cohen, chewing his vowels), an unctuous man with a bad leg supported by a squeaky metal brace, whose specialty is snatching up lost children and shipping them off to the orphanage.

The other is the owner of the toy shop (Ben Kingsley), from whom Hugo has quietly been stealing parts for his own special project. Hugo and his father began repairing a strange automaton, a little metal man who sits at a writing desk. Hugo has become obsessed with getting this creation working again to see what secrets it holds.

I can't say anything more about the plot for fear of spoiling the film's charms. Suffice it to say the toymaker's goddaughter Isabelle (Chloë Grace Moretz) will factor in heavily, plus the local flower girl (Emily Mortimer), an ancient bookshop owner (Christopher Lee), and the movies of the great silent filmmaker, Georges Méliès.

As much as I admired "Hugo," I could not give myself over entirely to it. The movie's emotional connections are tenuous -- Scorsese and screenwriter John Logan, working from Brian Selznick's book, never let things get too dark and dreary. Even the villainous station inspector, presented as a buffoon, is allowed  redemptive love interest. And the toymaker's bile over his shattered dreams washes away a little too quickly and conveniently.

I also noticed a disturbing artificiality to Moretz' performance -- little gestures and facial expressions that seemed overly theatrical and less than spontaneous. She's been terrific in everything else I've seen her in ("Let Me In," "Kick-Ass"), so I can only fault Scorsese's direction of her.

"Hugo" is gorgeous movie-making that, in end, feels mostly like an homage to itself.

3 stars out of four