Ford and Neeson make ‘K-19’ float in this post Soviet era

Harrison Ford’s newest outing is not a traditional action movie,

nor does it try to be. It is an apt dramatic study of human nature

and the capacity to sacrifice. Ford and his co-star, Liam Neeson are

superb in their accented portrayals of two Russian submarine

commanders in a dispute that could result in world-wide disaster.

Ford is the unyielding Captain Zateyev, and Neeson is his

executive officer, Mikhail Polenin.

The film is loosely based on the true story of K-19, the flagship of the Soviet nuclear fleet, which in 1961 was under orders to test

fire a new missile in order to demonstrate its retaliatory capacity

to then U.S. President John F. Kennedy.

When the two chief officers disagree on how to handle a pivotal

crisis, the threat of mutiny enters the picture as Polenin fights for

the lives of his comrades while Zateyev recognizes the bigger picture

and struggles to protect the lives of strangers.

Rounding out the cast are: Peter Scarsgaard as Vadim Radtchenko,

Christian Camargo as Pavel Loktev, Joss Ackland as Marshal Zelenstov,

George Anton as Konstantin Poliansky and Ingvar Sigurdsson as Viktor

Gorelov. Although many are virtually unknown, the performances are

gripping even if the accents are inconsistent.

Director Kathryn Bigelow has had her share of experience with male

dominated films that place character and narrative above shoot-outs

and chases (“Point Break”, “Strange Days”) but “K-19” is her best

film, as chilling as it is smart.

She allows you to become one of the crew as you experience the ebb

and flow of the events through Russian eyes. Claustrophobia mounts

and tension boils over as the entire film is masterfully blocked and

staged within the cramped quarters of K-19.

Christopher Kyle’s screenplay doesn’t generate enough pacing

during its character-driven scenes, nor enough dramatic tension

during its climactic moments, but the presence of Ford and Neeson

make up for that.

This film also strives to show that although the USSR was full of

its share of political turmoil, which may have resulted in

substandard instruments of war, its people were honorable and took

responsibility for mistakes.

It remains to be seen if in today’s climate of U.S. patriotism

whether this film’s sentiment will be welcomed.

* RAY BUFFER, 32, is a professional singer, actor and voice-over

artist.

Schlock and spiders rule in “Eight Legged Freaks”

“Eight Legged Freaks” could be, but isn’t, about a quartet of

newspaper editors.

It’s set in your random rural jerkwater hick town. Such towns are

usually blessed with a name like Paradise -- this one’s called

Prosperity. It’s filled with conspiracy freaks, fat sheriffs, loaded

teenagers and a citizenry whose IQs are marginally greater than the

declining number of teeth in their mouths.

Tooling along the narrow mountain road toward this intellectual

sinkhole is the obligatory truck. Rickety and rusty, it’s driver

tries to avoid a resident rodent that should have been road kill. The

driver swerves and inadvertently tests the escape velocity of the

ubiquitous oil drum or two, that are no doubt filled with our usual

suspects: toxic chemicals and plot contrivances.

Well they’re off the truck, down the road, into the ditch and

fouling the water just upstream from the local spider farm. Living in

the water are crickets. The crickets start to act strangely as the

chemicals are like steroids. The crickets are fed to spiders by the

resident mad scientist, and voila, the dubious premise to a

classically stupid movie.

Fattened up on the toxic crickets, our friendly neighborhood

spiders start to grow like a government program. They can jump like

Carl Lewis, run like Seattle Slew and eat like teenagers.

These little prizes escape from their cages, chow down on their

benefactor and are discovered by a Harry Potter-look-alike. Where are

the Orkin or Terminex guys when you need them? In fact, where’s a

good film editor when you need one?

That’s what makes “Eight Legged Freaks” such a fun flick. This is

as dumb as they come and as stupid as it gets. From watching the

rubber spiders stroll among the plastic saguaros, filmed among some

the hokiest miniatures ever committed to celluloid, this flick is a

classic no-brainer. Not quite “Tremors”, but much better than say,

“Citizen Kane”.

This leads to such classic dialogue like: “Come on, I’ll find

another way out.” “It’s the only way out.” “It’s locked.” “We’re

trapped.” And of course, “Oh, my God.”

Starring a bunch of nobodies whose acting skills are so lacking

that they’re probably listed on the back of milk cartons everywhere,

backed by a soundtrack likely stolen from a porno film, “Eight Legged

Freaks” rips off about every cheeseball monster movie ever made --

most obviously the “Night of the Living Dead” series.

As it turns out, the mayor of Prosperity, adorned with a pony

tail, more wrinkles than the San Andreas and with teeth that point in

most of the cardinal directions of the compass, is in cahoots with

various other local nefarious Neanderthals to make a couple bucks by

storing toxic waste in the nearby abandoned gold mine.

And who should ride into town, not on a white horse, but in a

Greyhound but our hero and protagonist, David Arquette. Overacting to

the point of being toxic himself, he schleps, stumbles and strolls

through both town and mine, Moses-like and Gary Cooper-ish, to save

what really doesn’t deserve be saved: the town and the people. He

sure as hell isn’t gonna save the movie.

Those spiders are hungry. Lousy table manners combined with a

tendency to slurp their food, the townsfolk, make them quite

undesirable socially.

Arquette finally burns them like cats on a hot tin roof, like feet

on asphalt on a hot summer’s day, like s’mores in a campfire, like

bad metaphors from a lousy columnist, with the methane that’s

conveniently floating around in the mine. Are all the little buggers

gone, or will there be a part two?

* UNCLE DON reviews b-movies and cheesy musical acts for Times

Community News. He may be reached by e-mail at

ReallyBadWriting@aol.com