tafka-SG8
Joined Jan 2003
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tafka-SG8's rating
Quite simply, I felt that this was a solid & entertaining documentary & a worthy time capsule of a compelling historical moment. I gave this as a present to a friend of mine that is an almost rabid political animal & he loved it.
It is also deeply personal, and offers insight into the life of a Hollywood star that has since been a tabloid fixture. Downey Jr. is quite candid in fact about the history of his drug abuse.
I wouldn't go out of my way, but if you have the opportunity, check this one out.
It is also deeply personal, and offers insight into the life of a Hollywood star that has since been a tabloid fixture. Downey Jr. is quite candid in fact about the history of his drug abuse.
I wouldn't go out of my way, but if you have the opportunity, check this one out.
Once a cult film has been dubbed quintessential, something that I have already done with Richard Elfman's opus Forbidden Zone, what else is there to say?
For a movie that features lap-puking, a dancing frog in a tuxedo, twin boys with one thinking that he's a girl and the other convinced he's a chicken, sexual interludes between a physically tiny Herve Villechaize and a towering Susan Tyrell, an excursion into the sixth dimension scored by the Mystic Knights of the Oingo Boingo -- the earlier incarnation of the musical outfit Oingo Boingo -- along with a catalog of other squalid entries, there should be quite a lot to say.
Released in 1980, Forbidden Zone was directed by Richard Elfman (Shrunken Heads & Modern Vampires), founder of the Mystic Knights and a one-time boxer who has been more prolific in stage work than film endeavor. Nonetheless, F.Z. has earned Elfman -- along with, of course, his younger brother Danny, who leads the Cab Calloway-fueled musical charge -- a permanent place in the cult film hall of fame (if there isn't such a thing, there most certainly should be).
The film opens at a vacant house in Venice, California where a local pimp, slumlord and heroin dealer stumbles upon a portal to the F.Z. in the basement and promptly, after retrieving his stash, sells the house to the Hercules', a freaky family we soon meet: Ma and Pa; Grampa; Flash; and Frenchy (aptly named for her intentionally ridiculous French accent, a character hilariously portrayed by the director's wife, Marie Pascal-Elfman).
The curious Frenchy, after being warned, ventures into the basement and falls through an intestinal labrynth only to be deposited (through an enormous pair of butt cheeks) into, you guessed it, ("Hot damned!") the sixth dimension. She is quickly captured by the F.Z.'s King and Queen (Villechaize and Tyrell), and Grampa joins Flash in a rescue operation into the F.Z., humping everything and everyone in the place (soon followed by Pa and then Squeezit, the chicken boy, whose sister/brother has also been captured). Meanwhile, the King becomes taken with Frenchy, and when the ex-queen is rescued from imprisoned exile, mayhem ensues.
That's about all of the film's engaging and sordid tale I'll give away, but viewers will also encounter such sites as: a human, dangling chandelier; a bizarre and uproarious classroom shootout; resident freaks of the zone running around in Mickey Mouse ears; rampant and absurd, fully-clothed sex scenes; boxers belching along with the musical score (a Rhumba); and much more.
With a combination of black & white animation and b&w film footage shot against cheesy painted sets -- not to mention the hysterical musical numbers -- the viewer becomes quickly pulled into what has the feel and spirit of a 1930s cartoon, one that has been injected with an overdose of just plain perversity, not to mention insanity and a quality of being unafraid to offend anyone.
A highlight for this reviewer was the appearance by the Mystic Knights of the Oingo Boingo, led by Danny Elfman as a fantastic Satan, performing a twisted Minnie the Moocher-inspired song (Hi-de-hi-de-hi-di-hi! Ho-de-ho-de-ho-de-ho!) while decapitating Squeezit and turning the topless princess of the sixth dimension into an arm-flapping, chicken-like slave.
The film winds up its long and savagely strange, careening path, with an absurd musical number involving all the characters. It should be noted that the actors and actresses in this film, instead of laboring under some delusion that this is a mainstream, real budget production, not only seem to understand the project's limited resources, their final performances give every appearance of having rejoiced in the wonderful cheesiness of it all (thank you, Mark).
The F.Z. is probably not for "the "squeamish, prudish and sane," however, as the Austin Chronicle stated, more aptly and succinctly than I.
Is this the quintessential cult film? The list of movies vying for that particularly title is probably an endless one. But since the term "cult film" is rather subjective -- although a valiant attempt has been made @ this site to explain it -- I'd have to say "yes." Although biased by almost nostalgic feelings for the deranged flick, Forbidden Zone just seems to have it all.
The bottom line is that great music, combined with surreal situations, a deeply mad storyline and splendidly grotesque characters, make this classic a must-see for anyone in possession of an active and intact sense of humor and the ability to appreciate the profoundly absurd. I give Forbidden Zone a solid A+.
Although the VHS version of the F.Z. has long been out-of-print, those interested can still obtain their own (signed) copy at richardelfman.com and, reportedly, a DVD release is in the works.
For a movie that features lap-puking, a dancing frog in a tuxedo, twin boys with one thinking that he's a girl and the other convinced he's a chicken, sexual interludes between a physically tiny Herve Villechaize and a towering Susan Tyrell, an excursion into the sixth dimension scored by the Mystic Knights of the Oingo Boingo -- the earlier incarnation of the musical outfit Oingo Boingo -- along with a catalog of other squalid entries, there should be quite a lot to say.
Released in 1980, Forbidden Zone was directed by Richard Elfman (Shrunken Heads & Modern Vampires), founder of the Mystic Knights and a one-time boxer who has been more prolific in stage work than film endeavor. Nonetheless, F.Z. has earned Elfman -- along with, of course, his younger brother Danny, who leads the Cab Calloway-fueled musical charge -- a permanent place in the cult film hall of fame (if there isn't such a thing, there most certainly should be).
The film opens at a vacant house in Venice, California where a local pimp, slumlord and heroin dealer stumbles upon a portal to the F.Z. in the basement and promptly, after retrieving his stash, sells the house to the Hercules', a freaky family we soon meet: Ma and Pa; Grampa; Flash; and Frenchy (aptly named for her intentionally ridiculous French accent, a character hilariously portrayed by the director's wife, Marie Pascal-Elfman).
The curious Frenchy, after being warned, ventures into the basement and falls through an intestinal labrynth only to be deposited (through an enormous pair of butt cheeks) into, you guessed it, ("Hot damned!") the sixth dimension. She is quickly captured by the F.Z.'s King and Queen (Villechaize and Tyrell), and Grampa joins Flash in a rescue operation into the F.Z., humping everything and everyone in the place (soon followed by Pa and then Squeezit, the chicken boy, whose sister/brother has also been captured). Meanwhile, the King becomes taken with Frenchy, and when the ex-queen is rescued from imprisoned exile, mayhem ensues.
That's about all of the film's engaging and sordid tale I'll give away, but viewers will also encounter such sites as: a human, dangling chandelier; a bizarre and uproarious classroom shootout; resident freaks of the zone running around in Mickey Mouse ears; rampant and absurd, fully-clothed sex scenes; boxers belching along with the musical score (a Rhumba); and much more.
With a combination of black & white animation and b&w film footage shot against cheesy painted sets -- not to mention the hysterical musical numbers -- the viewer becomes quickly pulled into what has the feel and spirit of a 1930s cartoon, one that has been injected with an overdose of just plain perversity, not to mention insanity and a quality of being unafraid to offend anyone.
A highlight for this reviewer was the appearance by the Mystic Knights of the Oingo Boingo, led by Danny Elfman as a fantastic Satan, performing a twisted Minnie the Moocher-inspired song (Hi-de-hi-de-hi-di-hi! Ho-de-ho-de-ho-de-ho!) while decapitating Squeezit and turning the topless princess of the sixth dimension into an arm-flapping, chicken-like slave.
The film winds up its long and savagely strange, careening path, with an absurd musical number involving all the characters. It should be noted that the actors and actresses in this film, instead of laboring under some delusion that this is a mainstream, real budget production, not only seem to understand the project's limited resources, their final performances give every appearance of having rejoiced in the wonderful cheesiness of it all (thank you, Mark).
The F.Z. is probably not for "the "squeamish, prudish and sane," however, as the Austin Chronicle stated, more aptly and succinctly than I.
Is this the quintessential cult film? The list of movies vying for that particularly title is probably an endless one. But since the term "cult film" is rather subjective -- although a valiant attempt has been made @ this site to explain it -- I'd have to say "yes." Although biased by almost nostalgic feelings for the deranged flick, Forbidden Zone just seems to have it all.
The bottom line is that great music, combined with surreal situations, a deeply mad storyline and splendidly grotesque characters, make this classic a must-see for anyone in possession of an active and intact sense of humor and the ability to appreciate the profoundly absurd. I give Forbidden Zone a solid A+.
Although the VHS version of the F.Z. has long been out-of-print, those interested can still obtain their own (signed) copy at richardelfman.com and, reportedly, a DVD release is in the works.