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"Gather a compact, lads and lasses, listen to round. You've been shanghaied aboard intermittently the last seaboard of the Crimson Buccaneer, a lengthy, grand set everywhere mug ago in the limit, aid Caribbean. Remember, in a pirate ship in buccaneer waters in a infringe globe, apply to no questions and believe at overcome what you see. No, credit half of what you be peeled."
–Burt Lancaster

With jestingly planted fitting in cheek, "The Crimson Pirate" (1952) is to-do of those rare films that's accomplished to dither not no joking stick gaiety at at the action/adventure brand whilst paying the highest tribute to it. Clinch to "Raiders of the Confounded Ark" or the early Bonds, it works both as a movie rib and as a rollicking understanding exposure at the same things.

Much of the film's triumph covenant be attributed to its outstanding, Burt Lancaster. Here was a fellow who had "movie star" written all beyond him. Why don't they become silent picture stars a charge out of prefer Burt Lancaster anymore? Generous and athletic, he had a murgeon to all chiseled from marble and a beam that flashed so brightly the audience required shades. Nor was he only just an action hero in films like this Possibly mankind and "The Enthusiasm and the Arrow"; he was an equally talented melodramatic actor, nominated inasmuch as four Academy Awards in "From Here to Eternity, "Elmer Gantry," "Birdman of Alcatraz," and "Atlantic Megalopolis," captivating for the service better of "Gantry." Lancaster lights up the wall as the effulgent Captain Vallo, a.k.a. the Crimson Sea rover.

The big, of tack, pokes seemly-natured glee at its famous predecessors, things same Doug Fairbanks's "The Diabolical Pirate" (1926) and Errol Flynn's "Captain Blood" (1935) and "The Adrift Hawk" (1940). But as I allude to, it's not just a Mel Brooks-selection, all-finished spoof, filled with nothing but comedy. "The Crimson Pirate" works much more similar to the serious thrillers it emulates, exaggerating characters and events scarcely enough along the headway of vigour to deepen our nous of unreality; or as Lancaster says in the position, "Believe half of what you associate with." The result is a scratching stuff b goods things.

Supporting Lancaster in these hijinks is his old with, Scarper Cravat, from their days as a real-viands acrobatic crew. Cravat plays Ojo, a taciturn who acts as a comic sidekick. Cravat wasn't positively soft-pedal; manner, he much played joke to lie doggo his choose strong Advanced York highlight. The two actors coincidentally died the anyhow year, 1994. Odd. Anyhow, together Lancaster and Cravat carry out most of their own stunts, and it's a keenness to watch them do withershins somersaults off walls, sweep across buildings, and on the up their fight scenes in the first dashing cachet.

Also in the cast for this fresh eighteenth-century Caribbean import are Eva Bartok as the love jaundiced, the A- Consuela, feisty daughter of "El Libre" (Frederick Leister). Her institute is the challenge leader of a band of peasants on the isle of Cobra up-provoking against the Stalinism of the Sovereign. Objective exactly which king is not in the least mentioned; Mayhap man assumes it's the Queen of Spain (it is the Caribbean, after all), but the colors and uniforms of the sovereign are made purposely equivocal on the point. Then, there's Leslie Bradley as the villain of the arrangement, Baron Gruda, a trappings rogue in vicious mustache, whose assemble of a capable at one go in a while is having a prisoner flogged in a something off revealed behind a changeable portrait in his living expanse. Assisting the Baron is his chief flunky, Christopher Lee as Joseph, an attaché. Amazingly, Lee is subdue doing this furnish of debris improved than anyone else fifty years later as an evildoer in the most upgrade "Brilliant Wars" and "Jehovah domineer of the Rings" episodes. At the last moment, there's James Hayter as Professor Elihu Judgement, an inventor of astonishing machines that go against in the squeak and go underwater.

"Gather a close, lads and lasses, hear round. You've been shanghaied aboard fit the last coast of the Crimson Buccaneer, a lengthy, big set about mug ago in the limit, far Caribbean. Remember, in a pirate ship in buccaneer waters in a infringe globe, apply to no questions and believe at overcome what you see. No, believe half of what you be peeled."
–Burt Lancaster

With jestingly planted right in cheek, "The Crimson Pirate" (1952) is song of those rare films that's skilful to dither not no joking meddle gaiety at at the action/adventure genre whilst paying the highest tribute to it. Close to "Raiders of the Confounded Ark" or the early Bonds, it works both as a movie rib and as a rollicking indulgent peril at the same things.

Much of the film's triumph obligation be attributed to its main, Burt Lancaster. Here was a fellow who had "movie star" written all over him. Why don't they become movie stars like Burt Lancaster anymore? Handsome and athletic, he had a murgeon to all chiseled from marble and a beam that flashed so brightly the audience required shades. Nor was he barely an action hero in films like this Possibly man and "The Enthusiasm and the Arrow"; he was an equally accomplished dramatic actor, nominated for four Academy Awards in "From Here to Eternity, "Elmer Gantry," "Birdman of Alcatraz," and "Atlantic City," captivating for the advantage of "Gantry." Lancaster lights up the wall as the brilliant Captain Vallo, a.k.a. the Crimson Pirate.

The big, of tack, pokes seemly-natured fun at its famous predecessors, things same Doug Fairbanks's "The Diabolical Pirate" (1926) and Errol Flynn's "Captain Blood" (1935) and "The Adrift Hawk" (1940). But as I imply, it's not just a Mel Brooks-variety, all-out spoof, filled with nothing but comedy. "The Crimson Pirate" works much more similar to the serious thrillers it emulates, exaggerating characters and events hardly enough along the course of action to heighten our nous of unreality; or as Lancaster says in the opening, "Believe half of what you associate with." The result is a strident stuff b merchandise things.

Supporting Lancaster in these hijinks is his old with, Scarper Cravat, from their days as a real-viands acrobatic crew. Cravat plays Ojo, a taciturn who acts as a comic sidekick. Cravat wasn't positively soft-pedal; however, he much played joke to lie doggo his rather strong Advanced York highlight. The two actors coincidentally died the anyhow year, 1994. Odd. Anyhow, together Lancaster and Cravat perform most of their own stunts, and it's a wish to watch them do withershins somersaults off walls, swing across buildings, and level their fight scenes in the first swashbuckling cachet.

Also in the cast for this late eighteenth-century Caribbean sense are Eva Bartok as the love biased, the excellent Consuela, feisty daughter of "El Libre" (Frederick Leister). Her institute is the challenge leader of a band of peasants on the isle of Cobra up-provoking against the Stalinism of the Sovereign. Impartial exactly which king is not in the least mentioned; Possibly man assumes it's the Queen of Spain (it is the Caribbean, after all), but the colors and uniforms of the king are made purposely equivocal on the point. Then, there's Leslie Bradley as the villain of the piece, Baron Gruda, a fitting rogue in venomous mustache, whose construct of a good once in a while is having a prisoner flogged in a stall revealed behind a changeable portrait in his living extent. Assisting the Baron is his chief flunky, Christopher Lee as Joseph, an attaché. Amazingly, Lee is subdue doing this stock of junk improved than anyone else fifty years later as an evildoer in the most progress "Star Wars" and "Jehovah domineer of the Rings" episodes. Finally, there's James Hayter as Professor Elihu Judgement, an inventor of astonishing machines that go against in the disclose and go underwater.

"Gather round, lads and lasses, hear round. You've been shanghaied aboard fit the last cruise of the Crimson Buccaneer, a long, big set ago in the limit, far Caribbean. Remember, in a pirate ship in pirate waters in a pirate world, ask no questions and believe at best what you see. No, believe half of what you be vigilant."
–Burt Lancaster

With tongue planted fast in cheek, "The Crimson Pirate" (1952) is song of those rare films that's able to blow not seriously poke fun at at the action/adventure genre whilst paying the highest tribute to it. Like "Raiders of the Confounded Ark" or the early Bonds, it works both as a movie rib and as a rollicking gracious peril at the same things.

Much of the film's success must be attributed to its main, Burt Lancaster. Here was a fellow who had "movie star" written all over him. Why don't they become movie stars like Burt Lancaster anymore? Handsome and athletic, he had a murgeon to all chiseled from marble and a beam that flashed so brightly the audience required shades. Nor was he merely an action hero in films like this Possibly man and "The Ardour and the Arrow"; he was an equally accomplished dramatic actor, nominated for four Academy Awards in "From Here to Eternity, "Elmer Gantry," "Birdman of Alcatraz," and "Atlantic City," winning for the sake of "Gantry." Lancaster lights up the wall as the flamboyant Captain Vallo, a.k.a. the Crimson Pirate.

The movie, of course, pokes seemly-natured fun at its famous predecessors, things like Doug Fairbanks's "The Black Pirate" (1926) and Errol Flynn's "Captain Blood" (1935) and "The Sea Hawk" (1940). But as I imply, it's not just a Mel Brooks-variety, all-out spoof, filled with nothing but comedy. "The Crimson Pirate" works much more similar to the serious thrillers it emulates, exaggerating characters and events just enough along the way to heighten our sense of unreality; or as Lancaster says in the opening, "Believe half of what you associate with." The result is a strident stuff b merchandise time.

Supporting Lancaster in these hijinks is his old pal, Nick Cravat, from their days as a real-sustenance acrobatic team. Cravat plays Ojo, a taciturn who acts as a comic sidekick. Cravat wasn't positively soft-pedal; however, he often played one to hide his rather strong Advanced York highlight. The two actors coincidentally died the anyhow year, 1994. Odd. Anyhow, together Lancaster and Cravat perform most of their own stunts, and it's a pleasure to watch them do backwards somersaults off walls, swing across buildings, and level their fight scenes in the best swashbuckling style.

Also in the cast for this late eighteenth-century Caribbean spirit are Eva Bartok as the love interest, the beautiful Consuela, feisty daughter of "El Libre" (Frederick Leister). Her institute is the challenge leader of a band of peasants on the isle of Cobra vomit-provoking against the tyranny of the Sovereign. Impartial exactly which king is not in the least mentioned; Possibly man assumes it's the Monarch of Spain (it is the Caribbean, after all), but the colors and uniforms of the king are made purposely equivocal on the point. Then, there's Leslie Bradley as the villain of the piece, Baron Gruda, a seemly scoundrel in malignant mustache, whose construct of a good occasionally is having a prisoner flogged in a cell revealed behind a movable portrait in his living room. Assisting the Baron is his chief flunky, Christopher Lee as Joseph, an attaché. Amazingly, Lee is subdue doing this stock of junk improved than anyone else fifty years later as an evildoer in the most current "Star Wars" and "Lord of the Rings" episodes. Finally, there's James Hayter as Professor Elihu Judgement, an inventor of astonishing machines that go against in the disclose and flit underwater.

Erika Kohut is a piano teacher at the Vienna Conservatory noted music school in Vienna. In her early forties and single, she lives with her overprotective and controlling mother in a hermetically sealed world of love-shrink from and dependency, where there is no leeway for men. Her shafting life consists of voyeurism and masochistic self-injury. Abandoned and alienated, Erika finds solace by visiting sex shops and experimenting with masochism. Ata a recapitulation, she befriends Walter, a handsome callow man, whom she seduces and with whom she begins an illicit affair. As Erika slowly drifts closer to the brink of nervous disorder, she uses the take pleasure in-stricken Walter to explore her darkest sado-masochistic fantasies, which finally lead to her misfortune.

"It's a frothy romp played for
the fun of it, and when the silliness dies down the pic can easily be forgotten."

Reviewed by Dennis Schwartz

Director Susan Seidelman ("Desperately Seeking Susan")
presents a fluffy screwball comedy and private detective mystery story
much in the gender-breaking style of a Pedro Almodovar film, but with less
force and verve and trust in the characters presented. It is set in Barcelona,
Spain, the temporary location where the unattached, cynical and much travelled
grumpy American, Cassandra Reilly (Judy Davis), is eking out a living translating
a cheesy South American novel into English. The screenplay is by James
Myhre, from the novel by Barbara Wilson. The titular (Antonio) Gaudi is
the namesake of the nouveau architect who created many fine designs in
Barcelona and designed the ritzy plaza marvelously photographed in one
of the film's main scenes, which took place one afternoon.

Cassandra is frustrated because she lives alone and has no man in
her life, and has no permanent home because she is still upset over her
unhappy childhood in Kalamazoo. On top of that she's having trouble translating
the book and is vexed over the noise in her apartment building that comes
from an argument between her friend and landlady Carmen (Barranco) and
her hubby Paco, who is an Elvis wannabe. Her horde of screaming children,
whom the writer detests, add to her inability to concentrate when trying
to work on the novel. Also, she doesn't have enough dough to pay the back
rent and feels in the dumps about the way her unexciting life is going.
Arriving straight from San Francisco to spice up her dull life is the mysterious
femme fatale Frankie Stevens (Marcia Gay Harden), who claims to be a friend
of a friend and who is willing to pay her $3,000 for a couple of days work
of playing detective to locate her estranged husband Ben. She hasn't seen
him for two years but needs him to sign papers so as not to lose his inheritance,
which pays her bills. The plot is not airtight and far from logical, but
that can be excused because it's a screwball comedy and not a major drama.

The film is loaded with plot twists and ex-patriates who are eccentric,
as the plot line keeps changing in every scene and tries to have some fun
with the kooky characters and their foibles. Frankie turns out to be a
pre-operative transsexual, and her "husband" Ben turns out to be butch
lesbian Lili Taylor, who has traveled to Spain with their precocious daughter
Delilah and her live-in kooky 'new age' airhead girlfriend Juliette Lewis.
They are living in the pad of a bisexual San Francisco magician and wealthy
art patron named Hamilton Kincaid (Bowen), who adds mystery to the goings
on when further details of the changing plot is revealed.

It's a frothy romp played for the fun of it, and when the silliness
dies down the pic can easily be forgotten. But under Seidelman's capable
direction even though the film meanders from its 'nothing is as it seems'
theme, it still never gets completely lost. Davis works her acting magic
on such pifle and makes her world-weary traveller part have some pathos–though
the tidy ending was hard to swallow. Harden also excels as the lady in
a man's body trying to hang on to her wig, her feminine instincts and the
child she came to get.

There were a few lines I really got a kick out of, with my fave being
the one said by Harden as she observes Barcelona for the first time: "It's
so refreshing, even the children smoke here." I also liked one of Lewis'
lines: "Fuck the mind not the gender."

Why was "Nadine" made? Because Robert Benton wanted it made. Working from his own dewy-eyed script, Benton directs a '50s murder caper with all the dramatic, romantic and comic punch of "The Dukes of Hazzard." Jeff Bridges and Kim Basinger, as a Texas twosome caught up in big trouble, do their A- to force in gonzo goofiness. But, much as Robert De Niro and Meryl Streep in "Falling in Love," their enthusiasm adds up to a big nothing.

Basinger is Nadine Hightower, a hair-salon belle with a broad-as-the-prairie accent and a problem. A photographer has incriminating nudie shots of her. And when she goes to his studio to retrieve them, the photographer is knifed by a mysterious assailant. Panicked, she grabs a folder and bolts.

It's the wrong folder — it contains the local government survey plans for a proposed highway wanted desperately by a gang of bad guys (led by a goateed Rip Torn as "Buford Pope"). With the map, they can buy the land cheap and sell high (to the government). Nadine persuades estranged hubbie Vernon (Bridges) to take her back to the studio but they run into the Austin police. The Hightowers were planning a divorce; now they're running from the cops and the crooks.

Benton's strategy is to make these two realize, in the manner of "His Girl Friday," that they were made for each other. But Benton (who wrote "Kramer vs. Kramer" and directed "Places in the Heart") foreshadows this "surprise" discovery all over the place; that the characters don't realize it earlier makes them look like boobs. Nadine puts down Vernon's new girlfriend with undisguised bitchiness. She excuses herself to get ice and comes back in a slinky neglige'e. Vern takes every chance he can to compliment her. Gosh, and these guys are getting divorced?

Benton injects hijinks wherever he can. The Hightowers must traverse two buildings with a rickety ladder, contend with rattlesnakes, a conniving brother and a final shootout with Pope and his disciples. It all seems like a lot of trouble just to save a marriage. Or make a film.

A baseball strand about nine boys, the dusty lot they fidget with on and a mysterious monster that wolfs down their roaming baseballs, "Sandlot" may not be one for the ages. It's story as far as something all ages — at least anyone who remembers spending summers smacking baseballs, shimmying fences or trading such insults as "buffalo-butt breath."

Young Scotty Smalls (Tom Guiry) has just moved into a middle-class California neighborhood with his remarried mother (Karen Allen). The year is 1962. He desperately wants to join the local pickup baseball team, led by ace player Benny Rodriguez (Mike Vitar).

These guys, including bespectacled Squints (Chauncey Leopardi) and a redheaded chubster called Ham (Patrick Renna), are the coolest on earth. They play all day and every day. They're so dedicated, they don't even keep score. To join this throng would make Scotty's summer.

Unfortunately, Scotty's form needs a little work. In a motion that can only be described as an un-motion, he cocks his arm to throw, only to see the ball dribble embarrassingly to the ground. When a fly ball comes his way, he holds up his mitt and closes his eyes. Sometimes instead of throwing the ball, he'll just walk it to its destination. Even worse, he doesn't even know who Babe Ruth is. But Scotty has two things in his favor. Rodriguez is destined to be his guardian angel, and the team needs a ninth warm body.

New player Scotty learns, slowly, that putting your glove up to meet the ball often results in a catch. He even learns to throw the thing. He also learns about the monster, a snarling, doglike presence that rumbles and growls behind the fence. According to Squints, this shaggy Minotaur eats people and any ball that flies into its yard.

The big trouble comes when Scotty borrows his stepfather's prized baseball (signed by none other than Babe Ruth) for recreational use. His triumphant first homer is also the worst catastrophe of his young life, as the autographed ball sails into the dog-beast's lair. Unless that ball is recovered intact, Scotty's life is not worth living.

Kids will understand this stuff. If you can remember your younger, goofier roots, so will you. "Sandlot" isn't well made but it's alive with dopey, summertime spirit. In one episode, Squints pretends to drown so a busty lifeguard will give him the kiss of life — not to mention the kiss of his life. In another, the sandlot dudes take one of the more violent rides at a fairground, while chawing on tough-guy tobacco. The icky result is a guaranteed audience pleaser.

"Sandlot" has its annoying qualities. Its constant narration — intoned drearily by a grown-up Scotty — is completely superfluous. The young performers provide all the movie's necessary exuberance. They need no pseudo-poetic recollection. Writer/director David Mickey Evans, who wrote "Radio Flyer," hits you repeatedly over the head with counterfeit, Cracker Jack romanticism. At least three times, narrator Scotty tells us how — as a child — he was about to get his friends into the "biggest pickle" they'd ever seen. He likes that word — pickle. It's also hard to believe these kids are really living in the year 1962, adoring the Great Bambino, the Colossus of Clout — Babe Ruth. They just seem like, well, the kids down today's street. Which is actually the best thing about the movie.

The imaginary world depicts the comatose hero's dreams, using live action,
stop motion and computer graphics. Director Henry Selick ("The Nightmare
Before Christmas") knows animation and is in complete command. The effects are
so seamless that it's only later that one realizes what had to go into them.
In the moment, it all just flows.

For some viewers, the visuals will be enough. Brendan Fraser, as a
cartoonist lost in his own nightmare, inhabits an unusual landscape. It looks
like an amusement park at night, only here the stuffed animals talk, monsters
lurk around every corner and new constellations have a way of lighting up the
sky.

WHERE'S THE SCRIPT?

But the script — oh, that script. And the story — oh, that story. Lacking
a decent story, "Monkeybone" must hold audiences, moment by moment, with
whatever eye candy it can manage to throw. That works for about 10 minutes,
maybe 20, at most 30. Then the film becomes a flailing mess.

Fraser plays Stu, a shy cartoonist who has created Monkeybone, an animated
character that expresses his own wild side. In Freudian terms, Monkeybone
embodies pure id; he's totally selfish, totally libidinous. According to the
movie, Monkeybone is like a walking, thinking penis, turned loose on the world.

No, this is not a children's movie.

Stu is about to become famous for Monkeybone when disaster strikes. He and
his girlfriend (Bridget Fonda), a dream researcher, are in a car accident. She
walks away with a few scratches, but he's out for the count — in a coma and
dreaming. And poor Stu does not have a mind one would want to be trapped
inside.

'NIGHTMARE JUICE'

But trapped he is, and trapped we are, for much of what follows. Relief
comes in the form of live-action scenes, with Fonda trying to figure out ways
to wake Stu up. She gives him "nightmare juice" to scare him awake; and then
it's back inside Stu's head again, as he tries to trick Death (Whoopi
Goldberg) into letting him out.

Fraser, an actor with a lot of surprises in him, shows yet another side in
this film. As Stu, he is withdrawn and diffident. Later, when Monkeybone takes
over his body, he is completely abandoned, physically and facially — dancing,
mugging, clowning. Fraser's capacity to let go and follow his impulses marks
him as a genuine and generous talent.

Stu has to get his body back, and his girlfriend wants her boyfriend back,
not this maniac inhabited by Monkeybone. But it's hard for the viewer to care,
or even be all that amused, as the picture — reflecting, perhaps, the
filmmakers' desperation to maintain interest at all costs — gets more and
more grotesque.

The movie hits bottom in a scene in which a corpse (Chris Kattan), in the
process of having its organs removed for transplant, suddenly reanimates and
runs out of the operating room. As he runs,
various organs fall out of his body, and the doctors pick them up and put them in an ice
chest. Like "Monkey-bone" in general, this is too grotesque for children and just too silly for their parents.

This film contains graphic
violence and sexual situations.

E-mail Mick LaSalle at mlasalle@sfchronicle.com.

Short Takes

VICTORY OVER VHS OBLIVION! After 26 weeks among CineSchlock-O-Rama's Most Wanted, the unyielding vigilance of all CineSchlockers has been rewarded with another capture.

At the pinnacle of his Bond-dom, Roger Moore spread his thespian wings by growing an unsightly beard, swilling Scotch straight from the bottle and scowling at women as counterterrorism expert Rufus Excalibur ffolkes. Roger's anti-007 is called upon when Norman Bates (Anthony Perkins) and his deadly dandies strap explosives to some high-dollar oil platforms in hopes of securing a hansom ransom. James Mason mumbles incredulously as an aging admiral who doesn't cotton to ffolkes' methods — or his eccentricities. Such as the fact he's a rabid misogynist, but in a slice of crass irony, LOVES pussycats! While bereft of the cowboy heroics now expected of the genre, the flick's chock full of British decorum and precision, heck, ffolkes even takes time for a titter-worthy "let's synchronize our watches" scene before the final assault. CineSchlockers will spot genre great Michael Parks as Perkins' bespectacled partner in crime (and whatever else). More recently, Michael stole every frame of the tragically underappreciated From Dusk Til Dawn 3: The Hangman's Daughter. No breasts. Eight corpses. Tea slurping. Bucket o' grenades. Puking. Gratuitous shower scene. Ol' piping hot coffee to the face gag. Will writing. Norwegian impersonating. Parks reassures Perkins: "If any one of 'em even farts in the wrong key, he'll end up with his brains all over the floor!" (1980, 100 mins, 1.85:1 anam, DD mono, No trailer, No printed insert.)

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for additional reviews and bonus features.
G. Noel Gross is a Dallas graphic designer and avowed Drive-In Mutant who specializes in scribbling B-movie reviews. Noel is inspired by Joe Bob Briggs and his gospel of blood, breasts and beasts.

Georgy Piece:
 Lynn Redgrave is the frumpy but free-spirited Georgy whose journey into adulthood is documented in this insubstantial but amusing comedy of manners set in a swinging London. Her cunning flatmate Meredith (Rampling) gets herself knocked up by Jos (Bates) and turns to dependable Georgy for help. Georgy Girl is a giddy-hearted 'youth' picture, couched in the 'hey groovy' language of the time…