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"One vicious hit-man. One fierce cop. Ten thousand bullets."- from a promotional ad for THE KILLER.

There are two exaggerations in that teaser slogan for THE KILLER. The hit-man played by Chow Yun Fat is actually a suave, rather sentimental anti-hero who is looking to bail out of his deadly-force-for-hire profession. Yes, he's a murderer. But he doesn't enjoy his work. As for the "fierce cop", Danny Lee portrays him as more of a dogged, enthusiastic peace officer than as an maniacal enforcer of the law.

But what about those ten thousand bullets? I'll put it to you this way: at quite a few points in the film you may find yourself sitting there with your mouth agape and your eyes bulging from their sockets. Keep the remote handy also for you may be doing extensive replaying of scenes. The action sequences are mind-boggling in the cleverness of their staging and intensity of their execution. John Woo's best film carries his signature motif of entangling alliances between good guy/bad guy/evil guy(s), spinning around in a hypertensive milieu of criminality where exhaustive foot chases, unbelievable physical dexterity, and claustrophobic showdowns are the norm. And all of this unfolds beneath a firestorm of discharged ammunition.

What has always set Woo's Hong Kong films apart are the exquisitely balletic movements of his actor/characters while under semi-automatic duress (surpassing Peckinpah's earlier but static slo-mo style by leaps and bounds). Working in Hollywood, Woo has been hard pressed to live up to his earlier films. HARD TARGET, BROKEN ARROW, FACE/OFF, MISSION IMPOSSIBLE II, et al. are cartoonish popcorn flicks missing the all important complexity and richness of character and story of the Hong Kong films. Hollywood sunders another original talent. But watch THE KILLER, get involved in the story, and look out for those flying bullets. One day, hopefully, Woo will recapture his earlier form.

"This nut thinks he's a vampire! He has killed four, maybe five women. He has drained every drop of blood from every one of them. Now that is news Vincenzo, news!"- Carl Kolchak, newspaper reporter, to his editor in THE NIGHT STALKER.

Produced in just eighteen days by television horrormeister Dan Curtis (DARK SHADOWS) as shoestring-budget program fodder for a network TV movie-of-the-week show, THE NIGHT STALKER became a ratings champion due to its unexpectedly lively mixture of amusing cynicism in the face of unnerving circumstance.

Richard Matheson's detailed yet economical teleplay grabs you immediately with a plot of rapidly growing terror. And when director John Llewellyn Moxey unleashes stunt coordinator Dick Ziker and his team of incredible stuntmen you may find your jaw dropping (watch for the melee at the hospital and the swimming pool sequence). The movie's success is also due in no small measure to Barry Atwater's hair-raising appearance as the bloodthirsty fiend, Janos Skorzeny. Atwater doesn't have a single word of dialogue but his image leaves a lasting, unsettling impression.

But without question this is Darren McGavin's movie and his relaxed, reactive performance infuses many of the scenes with a sustained and welcome humor. As the chillingly staged murders multiply and the disbelief of the jaded civil servants and one hard luck, bandy-legged journalist begins to crumble, the viewer is borne away into the nightmarish reality of the tale with genuine, chilling fear rising out of the threadbare production. Once again, a whole lot less provides a whole lot more. The follow-up movie, THE NIGHT STRANGLER has its moments but never quite matches the creeping dread of STALKER.

"I'll pay a thousand dollars to anyone who can explain the story to me."- Harry Cohn*, head of Columbia Pictures, on THE LADY FROM SHANGHAI.

In Frank Brady's fine biography of the celebrated actor/director/writer/producer, *CITIZEN WELLES, we discover that Harry Cohn was in such awe of Orson Welles' talent and was so desperate to make a movie with him, that he nearly gave Welles full autonomy: the aforementioned writing, directing, producing, and starring acting role. But Cohn did withhold one very important element which many if not most filmmakers seek: the final decision on editing.

More than a year after THE LADY FROM SHANGHAI was in the can waiting for release Cohn railed against the director for cost overruns, for what Cohn felt was an incoherent mess of a movie, and, most vehemently, for tampering with Rita Hayworth's image (Welles cut and dyed blond Rita's dark tresses). It was a tough shoot for Orson: constant delays, script changes, killer Mexican heat, plus one added burden: the breakup of his marriage to the film's female star. Ultimately,Cohn dumped the film as a second feature where it bombed financially.

The film itself? With its theme of pervasive corruption threatening a stalwart if highly unaware protagonist, LADY is an uneven prototype for Welles' fully realized noir masterwork, TOUCH OF EVIL (1958). Both films share a nightmare quality; there is constant dislocation and disorientation in each work. Both films take on an atmosphere of cramped delirium, magnified by crude allusions and nefarious deeds which slip in and out of the deep physical and psychological shadows. And both films exhibit murder as an almost preordained fate. Again, LADY's major flaw is a rambling story structure, underscored by poor editing (Cohn and a studio editor pieced the film together!).

But there are great performances, with Everett Sloan's Arthur Bannister throwing his nasty Kane-like weight around, albeit on crutches, and especially Glenn Anders' sweaty, quietly obscene malefactor, Grisby, a fascinatingly distasteful cretin who sets the skin to crawling. Orson labors hard in his role of Michael O'Hara. I found his cartoon brogue entertaining. But while the accent may be overdone, wouldn't it be in a nightmare?