The Unheeded Climate Warnings of James Burke’s “After the Warming” (1989)

The record-warm winters, the baking hot summers — some dry, others filled with historic floods from “extraordinary rain events” — have a lot of people ready to lecture each other on when these “just as predicted” consequences of climat change popped up on our cultural radars.

Wags will point to this series of print stories, that bit of NASA science-backed alarm or Al Gore’s culturally divisive documentary, “An Inconvenient Truth.”

That 2006 two time Oscar winner from director Davis Guggenheim marked a moment in time when nearly everyone could force themselves to admit “Well, we were warned.”

Unfortunately, what that film really marked with the great divide between those able to grasp and reason with hard, ugly facts and the know-nothings of the the alt-conservative universe, back by the aren’t-ageing-well lies of the fossil fuel lobby, who dug in their heels for further decades of denying what was becoming obvious to anybody with a memory and two eyes to watch was what happening all around us.

Start with the knee-jerk hatred that inflamed that corner of the culture for Al Gore, probably the legitimate president in 2000 and not the accident-prone big oil-bought numbskull G.W. Bush, and it was inevitable that “climate change” became the irrational “woke” buzzphrase of its day, beaten into the simpletons unable to discern facts from Fox News.

But like Gore, I remember the filmed warning about what was to come thanks to a fossil fuel/deforestation driven warming planet. It was on public TV 17 years BEFORE “An Inconvenient Truth.”

As I scrolled through the memes and lectures aimed at the Texas weather disaster — yeah, let the oligarchs defund FEMA — and those acting shocked SHOCKED at what is happening on Bluesky today, I hunted down James Burke’s “After the Warming,” a 1989 two-part doc for public TV (in the US and UK) in which he depicted a 2050 where some of the worst climate changed disaster had happened, and what the smarter, more proactive and progressive leaders of Earth were doing about it.

Ironically, one of the first links served up by the dubiously biased Google Search, was this unsigned screed of utter BS from the professional liars at The Energy Advocate. Printed eight years AFTER the programs aired, this “review” is not aging well, and I daresay your kids are relieved you didn’t sign your name to it, Coal Porter.

The just-concluced warmest year in recorded history made every word of that 1997 screed a lie.

I’d track down Burke’s special any time I noticed the changing sea life (different species of barnacles growing on my boat hull), longer fire seasons, dryer summers — interrupted by lots of hurricanes — shifts in the climate of Florida during my 20-odd years living there.

Check it out below. It’s still alarming, even if not every worst-case-scenario has come to pass.

If we’d started listening to reason and voting against paid-off climate change deniers back then, none of us would have had to deal with irrational, ignorant Al Gore haters when he gave voice to the obvious in “An Inconvenient Truth” 17 years after “After the Warming.”

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Netflixable? Dutch Duo are on the case as “Almost Cops”

The Dutch word for “buddy picture” is “vriendenfilm.” They take their shot at the genre with a cop/buddy action comedy, “Almost Cops,” whose title in Dutch is “Bad Boas,” a cute pun.

That’s funnier than anything in this stunningly unsurprising stroll through Cliche City. I basically can’t list anybody in the credits beyond the leads without giving away the plot. Three credited screenwriters and three “script contribution” writers do the worst job in living memory at hiding the “mystery” at the heart of their tale of Rotterdam corruption, drug dealing, gang wars and the Community Service Officers out of their depth but out to crack the case.

Long review short for our friends who no longer wear wooden shoes, “Het is rot.”

Jandino Asporaat is Ramon, a “cut these people some slack” CSO who’s inclined to let little old dog ladies off the hook for not picking up after their pets and think the best of teen truants who are already mixed-up with the wrong crowd.

He’s got the department de-escalation speech memorized. He’d better, because all he’s armed with is pepper spray, a live-streaming bodycam and a “tiny little flashlight” (in Dutch with subtitles, or dubbed into English) to defend himself.

Yeah, he’s disrespected. The locals call his kind “Smurfs” and “Paw Patrol” thanks to their uniforms, their do-gooder indulgence of miscreants and their powerlessness. Hell, Ramon’s even mugged at one point.

His younger half-brother (Yannick Jozefzoon) is the one living up to their dead hero-cop father’s tradition. Kevin tries to indulge his sibling’s dream of a teen center to keep kids on his beat out of trouble by contributing a billiards table.

But Kevin’s the one involved in stakeouts and dangerous work. It’s made more dangerous by having a reckless, swaggering partner, Jack (Werner Kolf). Their coke-smuggling stakeout on the docks gets Kevin killed. His bungling gets Jack demoted to bottom level of the police heirarchy. And naturally, Jack’s new “partner” is the half-brother of the undercover cop killed right in front of him.

Not that anybody’s telling Ramon this.

Jack’s two-fisted, dive-right-in approach to even this level of “ticket or no ticket” policing will never work as a CSO. And he can’t muscle his way back onto Kevin’s murder case. Ramon has to be pushed and pushed before he’ll get worked-up enough to try and punish his brother’s killer.

The scattered laughs come from Ramon’s bend-over-backwards decency. He interrogates teen suspects by beating himself up while handcuffed to one. He’s quick to apologize, slow to anger and kind of the model “almost cop” that Jack’s detective chief (Ramona Vrede, fed-up and funny) advises him to treat “like slow toddlers or something.”

The screenplay takes the time to set up Ramon’s squad as “types” — the exhibitionist/woman-repellent hulk, the conspiracy nut, the Turk whose solution to every problem is “soup” and others. But precious little is done with that set-up.

American viewers may get a kick out of how “nice” and polite Dutch police are compared to the armor-plated hotheads the U.S. is famous for.

But getting comedy out of a Kevin Hart “type” (Asporaat, who is related to one of the screenwriters) paired-up with an Ice Cube (closer to Idris Elba) “type” proves a lot more difficult than you’d hope.

Hart’s screeching way with a line and the faces he makes made “Ride Along” work in ways “Almost Cops” never does.

We can guess who is doing what and who will turn out to be pulling the strings the moment we meet those characters.

“Almost Cops” winds up as almost a buddy comedy, and certainly not one that works.

Rating: TV-MA, bloody violence, profanity

Cast: Jandino Asporaat, Werner Kolf,
Florence Vos Weeda, Ramona Vrede and Yannick Jozefzoon

Credits: Directed by Gonzalo Fernandez Carmona, scripted by Kenneth Asporaat, Joost Reijmers and Thomas van der Ree. A Netflix release.

Running time: 1:36

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Documentary Review — “Angelheaded Hipster: The Songs of Marc Bolan and T. Rex”

Seems like we’ve just about had enough time to forget singer-songwriter-provocateur Marc Bolan and his band T. Rex, when along comes another reminder that “Oh yeah, he was a big deal.”

All it takes is a Mitsubishi sports car commercial, a Robert Palmer & Band cover or any of the some 200 movies and TV episodes that have featured “Bang a Gong (Get it On),” “Twentieth Century Boy” or “Children of the Revolution” — including the Aussie film “Children of the Revolution” — and it all comes back.

Anarchy and androgyny, funk and glam, poodle curls and eye shadow, idol to teen and pre-teen girls, legit rock guitarist, best-selling poet and iconoclastic trixter — Bolan represented all that and more, a rock star who innovated and launched glam, appreciated, embraced and popularized punk (via his music TV show in the UK) and made noise in disco, a performer who “played a part” and then moved on to the next thing before the rest of the culture did.

“Angelheaded Hipster” is thus the perfect title for a documentary appreciation of the music and lyrics of a singular talent who surfed music culture’s ever-shifting waves better than just about anybody. Even the changeling David Bowie, a longtime friend, admitted Bolan got to glam first, grasped punk ahead of the curve and generally went his own way, much as Bowie himself did — with The Thin White Duke often playing catchup to the mercurial Marc.

Ethan Silverman’s film — about the making of a tribute/cover LP of Bolan’s tunes performed by everyone from U2 to Macy Gray, Joan Jett to Nick Cave — is an exhulant celebration of the music that skips over the life and world and biography that made him, which has been covered in other docs over the decades.

Mark Feld took up music, dabbled in modeling and became — like Bowie — a quintessential “Mod” in the British 1960s. And then he became Marc Bolan, joining one band, then beginning T.Rex with just a bongo player as accompaniment, a “rock star” who “couldn’t yet afford a band,” as an earlier producer notes in “Angelheaded Hipster.”

We see U2 deconstruct and reconstruct “Bang a Gong” as they cover it. Ringo Starr marvels at the curious (polyphonic) rhythms of Bolan’s brilliantly arranged, engineered and recorded records. Elton John and Ringo remember working in the studio with Bolan as he took Elvis era rockabilly and upended it, watch Jett and Cave and Maria McKee and Beth Orton and Kesha cover this and that and hear Macy Gray‘s Bob Marley-influenced interpretation of “Children of the Revolution.”

Ringo has a laugh at the fact that knowing Bolan at his pop/rock peak, the thing that mattered to the man the most was that his book of “Tolkienesque” poetry made him the best selling poet in England. Def Leppard lead singer Joe Elliott then trots out his copy of that book, and a childhood, line-by-line transcription of it that he wrote out as a tween.

There’s archival footage of Bowie paying tribute to his friend and rival in interviews and on stage, where he’d tear through “Twentieth Century Boy” whenever he toured with a band that could handle it. His tale of the day the two met (they shared management) is hilarious.

Former teen rock journalist turned filmmaker Cameron Crowe recalls interviewing Bolan in his “wounded bravado” moment where he wasn’t catching on in America, and he was done with “the makeup” and the “glam” back in Britain, where it had made him famous.

And Bolan himself is seen and heard, in playful interviews and hosting a ’70s TV series that broke punk acts (Billy Idol worships him) and kept Bolan relevant just as his own music was evolving out of the shtick that made pubescent girls scream.

“Angelheaded Hipster” serves up truth in advertising, not just in its mod-model to glam rock star and beyond career arc, but in its “The Songs of Marc Bolan and T. Rex” subtitle. Every artist appearing here takes a shot at re-imagining or at least re-appreciating the dense lyrics (Bolan referenced Dylan when talking about his lyrical ambitions), funky arrangements and guitar-driven “spooky” drama or joy in his tunes.

And if nothing else, this film puts a face, a mind and a hairstyle behind all those tunes you hear in “Longlegs” (three songs by Bolan), “Ghosted,” “Death Proof” or “Scott Pilgrim vs. the World.”

Rating: unrated, nudity, profanity

Cast: Marc Bolan, Elton John, Gloria Jones, Macy Gray, Maria McKee, Ringo Starr, David Bowie, Hal Willner, Rolan Bolan, Joan Jett, Lucinda Williams, Kesha, Nick Cave, Billy Idol, The Edge, Beth Orton and Cameron Crowe.

Credits: Scripted and directed by Ethan Silverman. A Greenwich Entertainment (Aug, 8) release.

Running time: 1:39

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Movie Review: Gunn takes his shot at “Superman”

Not using a “real” dog as Krypto, the superdog, was as understandable as it was unfortunate.

James Gunn’s take on “Superman” has a CGI version of a dog he’s owned as an antic, overeager but always-hits-his-mark digital sidekick.

It’s got jokes, a welcome light touch. Hell, it’s got Nathan Fillion as The Green Lantern. You laughed the minute you read that, I’ll wager.

David Corenswet of “Twisters” and TV’s “We Own This City” proves an inspired choice for the Man of Steel, and “Marvelous Mrs. Maisel’s” Rachel Brosnahan pretty much channels Margot Kidder as Lois Lane.

But cub reporter Jimmy Olsen (Skyler Gisondo)? He’s a player. Nicholas Hoult’s Muskovite turn as villainous Lex Luthor brags about “brains over brawn” to figure out how to best Superman, and we know he’s just not that smart.

The film is a cluttter of characters and collection of plot points that don’t add up to anything resembling a compelling narrative.

It’s gimmicky, from casting Bradley Cooper and an actress (Angela Sarafyan) who looks just enough like Lady Gaga to make you do a Warner Brothers squint, to parking Frank Grillo in his perma-Brillo stubble as enforcer Rick Flagg Sr., in charge of arresting our Superman, who needs to start thinking about the “consequences” of his high-handed “Metahuman” actions, interfering in human affairs — wars and whatnot.

“You didn’t read me my rights.”

Famous players such as Pom Klementieff and Michael Rooker “play” the CGI robots who tend to Superman’s wounds in his Antarctic Fortress of Solitude. But of course only master robot voice actor Alan Tudyck has any lines.

Fillion’s Green Lantern is the face of the Justice Gang, a privately financed force independent of Superman (Isabela Merced is Hawkgirl, Edi Gathegi is a droll Mister Terrific). And no, they didn’t focus group that “name” before settling on it.

This Superman is a lot less omnipotent. This Superman has supervillains and fake news TV opinionaters arrayed against him. This Superman is definitely in love with Lois Lane.

I like the fact that Gunn chose to join this saga “in progress,” as it were. This isn’t an origin story. This is about Superman losing his first fight, coping with the consequences of interfering in a war between fictional Russian Federation (ish) “states” that Luthor has taken sides in.

The movie’s politics have conservatives snowflaking out. Superman is an “alien,” an immigrant locked in a private prison that isn’t hidden in El Salvador or wherever, but in a “pocket universe” that Luthor can access. Torture and murder are common currency in this metaverse jail.

Superman’s the victim of “monkey bot” online disparagement, which has trashed his rep. Luckily, Jimmy Olsen has an ex (Sara Sampaio) influencer/girlfriend to Luthor who feeds Jimmy tips about what the amoral, heartless DOGE-ish tech bros are up to.

The plot is all over the place, the villains kind of amorphous and just generally “against” the idea of a Superman and there just isn’t enough Fillion and Gathegi or enough jokes outside of those jokers to get the picture over the hump.

Super-dupe cracks one just as he’s about to “Up, up and AWAY” (No, he doesn’t say that. Dammit.).

“Hey buddy, eyes up here.”

It’s all pleasant enough between the generic super-being brawls, which aren’t impressive enough to avoid the label “sleep-inducing. You just know the reporters will struggle to clear the guy’s name, his family will remind him of who he is and the damned digital dog will play “Fetch,” to the advantage of Mr. “Truth, Justice and the American Way.”

Heck, maybe that’s why the snowflakes are complaining that the picture’s “too woke.” It’s got a guy who stands for all three of those, a guy who loves dogs and whom dogs love. They ought to be “triggered.” If there’s a point to Mr. Gunn’s “Superman” movie, that might be it.

Rating: PG-13, violence, “action” and lots of profanity

Cast: David Corenswet, Rachel Brosnahan, Nicholas Hoult, Edi Gathegi, Isabela Merced, Skyler Gisondo, Wendell Pierce, Sara Sampaio, Mikaela Hoover, Beck Bennett, Zlatko Buric, Bradley Cooper, Frank Grillo, Neva Howell, Pruitt Taylor Vince, Alan Tudyck and Nathan Fillion.

Credits: Scripted and directed by James Gunn, based on the DC Comics. A Warner Bros. release.

Running time: 2:09

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Documentary Preview: Remembering a “Twentieth Century Boy” and “Angel headed Hipster”  Marc Bolan of T. Rex

Bang a gong, get it on, Groovers. August 8.

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Netflixable? A “Trainwreck” documentary remembers “The Real ‘Project X'”

It was just a movie, but those of us who saw it and brought an adult persective to reviewing “Project X” back in 2012 picked up on the ante it was upping.

Decades of raucus youth party pictures, from “Animal House” to “Sixteen Candles, “Can’t Hardly Wait” and “Old School” to “Superbad” weren’t just mimicked, they were bested by the most over-the-top/out-of-control parents-are-out-of-town bacchanal ever put on screen.

It’s “the movie equivalent of that good-looking, well-off teenage boy your gut tells you to keep away from your teenage daughter,” I wrote way back when about this raunchy, no-rules romp that practically screamed “DON’T TRY THIS AT HOME” even as it invited teens to do just that.

Over the top, sexist, politically incorrect, occasionally hilarious but “wearying?” Sure. It’s from the producers of “The Hangover,” ferchrissake.

Alex Wood’s installment in Netflix’s “companies/phenomena/events gone wrong” series “Trainwreck” is an oral history of “The Real ‘Project X,'” an intimate teen girl’s party that turned into a town, region and nation-roiling event in The Netherlands back in 2012.

Oddly enough, based on the eyewitness accounts of those who witnessed it, plotted it and documented it, this documentary about that 2012 event is a testament to the enduring influence of the cinema.

Sure, social media was how it all came to be — a Facebook party invitation post by Dutch girl Merthe, about to turn 16, one that she carelessly rendered “public,” meaning it could be shared and spread by creeps like the 18 year old doofus Dutchboy Jorik and further exploited by aspiring Youtube moguls Giel and Thomas.

But a then-recent movie caused it. The canny Jorik Clarck knew a chance to recreate that epic, unforgettable and out of control teen party as depicted in “Project X” when he saw it. He made that hormonal, binge-drinking wish come true, right down to the riot, if not the actual burning down of the house depicted by Hollywood.

The Little Dutchboys and Dutchgirls satisfied themselves with just burning a few cars.

And almost every damned reference the victims, participants and cash-in goons who remember this event in this documentary make is cinematic — people were afraid to leave their homes, like “The Purge,” Dutch teens can buy booze at 16, unlike “McLovin in ‘Superbad,'” etc.

Yeah, a movie — the movies — did all that.

This documentary is short, snappy and suitably shambolic as we hear from council members, Merthe’s parents and those gonzo Stuk TV impressarios and sample their footage of the night’s unfolding disaster.

I laughed and laughed at this, slack-jawed at how it all happened and how outrageous and ridiculous the entire “trainwreck” was.

Wood, a veteran TV producer and director with “Secrets of the Zoo” and “Jared from Subway: Catching a Monster” credits, seems well-suited to be pointing the camera and listening without judgment to all these people talk about a slow-moving “trainwreck” that young Merthe, her parents and a few others saw coming, one that virtually no one in charge took seriously enough to intervene.

The then-mayor of Haren, Holland, declined to be interviewed for a reason. For all the kiddie fingers in this fiasco, he’s the dope who bristled at doing more than repeating on TV “There is no party. Don’t come,” in Dutch (with English subtitles).

Clarck also comes off as a villain, but even he picked up on how out of control things were getting, how young Holland’s hive-mind took hold of this and wouldn’t let Merthe or him cancel it in the eyes of those all wound up to get lit.

Facebook? Yea, this was partly their fault, too.

There’s even a would-be hero, a councilmember from a nearby Groningen titled “Night Mayor,” someone in charge of making nightlife events and making those planned by others safe. If Chris Garrit had had his way, one could imagine this entire calamity having a real “Hollywood ending.”

Picture hundreds of thousands of Dutch youth descending on tiny, tony Haren, directed to a park that could hold them, partying like it was 2012 and then joining in the biggest “Happy Birthday” sing-along ever to young Merthe to wrap things up, preferably without mass vandalism or a single Molotov cocktail.

Maybe when Hollywood makes a feature film version of “The Real Project X,” they’ll tidy it up in just that way. They should hire Nima Nourizadeh, director of the original “X” for it. His movie wasn’t anybody’s idea of a masterpiece. But it isn’t every film that connects with youth culture and then sets off a chain reaction “trainwreck” the way his did.

Rating: TV-MA, violence, binge drinking, profanity

Cast: Merthe Marije Weusthuis, Jorik Clarck, Giel de Winter, Thomas van der Vlugt and Chris Garrit

Credits: A Netflix release.

Running time: :41

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Movie Review: Korean-American family finds “A Great Divide” in the corner of Wyoming They Move To

“A Great Divide” is a righteous, topical and long-winded culture clash drama about America at its most racist and least welcoming.

Unlike the similarly themed “Minari,” it’s more directly about race and more overt in its messaging — downright heavy-handed at times.

And unlike “Minari,” it’s not a period piece. It’s an Unwelcoming West — Wyoming, in this case — as it might be today, in a country that’s finding a lot more tolerance for racism and xenophobia than we’d previously believed about ourselves.

Jae Suh Park (TV’s “Friends from College”) and Ken Jeong play parents who move to a monied corner of rural Wyoming for “a fresh start.”

Director and co-writer Jean Shim’s film goes a little bit wrong, right off the bat, by parking the Lees — sensitive and smart teen son Benjamin (Emerson Min) and his confidante, Grandma (MeeWha Alana Lee) are with them — in an Architectural Digest lodge/home, a hilltop “castle” in wood, glass and stone. They show up in a Lincoln Navigator.

And none of this is theirs. Husband Isaac’s old friend/new-boss (Margaret Cho) is setting them up out on the edge of the Tetons, with breathtaking vistas, moose and bison roaming the wild and an exclusive private high school all laid at their feet.

Sure.

All Benjy has to do is write a compelling essay to show “if I fit in,” at Riverton High, is how he puts it. Maybe Granny can help.

But will he fit in? Can they? His bestie from back in California (Miya Cech) comes for a summer visit, and his first girlfriend is a witness to instant blasts of hostility from the founding family’s entitled crank (Jamie McShane). A “friendly” and “helpful” privately-paid park ranger (Marshall Allman) is sent to give the kids a helpful “orientation” to the place, the wildlife and “the rules” here.

With the threat of “charges” being brought by Old Man McNather, the ranger visit is mandatory with a hint of bullying.

McNather is Mr. “YOU people” and others absorb “Leave the woods to those of us who belong here” ethos from him. As the Lees were passed by a Vanilla ISIS flag-flying pickup on the way from the airport, they’re practically braced for the “God-d–ned CHINESE” and “slanty-eyed” and “as long as you’re here legal” insults and veiled threats.

Mom is particularly sensitive to this. She has her reasons. Granny counsels Benjy that “At the end of hardship comes happiness.” Sure it does.

Director and co-writer Jean Shim’s script is built around a series of character monologues — about the struggles of immigrants, the racism Asians have faced in American workplaces and schools, the generational divide on how to cope with that and the like.

Those pauses to deliver long anecdotes can be moving, but to a one they stop the narrative in its tracks.

Jeong tries to play a few scenes “light,” making “Yee-haw” jokes with a drawl at the local self-labeled “redneck” eatery. That scene rings about as true as the “I’ve got this rich pal who’s given me a job, a mansion and a Matthew McConaughy Lincoln in Wyoming” set-up.

It’s disappointing that a film about such an important subject leans into unreality — artificial affluence, a teenager consulting Granny for everything — as it marches doggedly into melodrama.

The racism is over-the-top, but that doesn’t make it feel less real. Other plot elements are simplistic forshadowing for the predictable arc the story settles into.

The impulses behind depicting this “Great Divide” in modern America are noble and realistic. But the movie wearing that title is entirely too contrived and monologue-driven to live up to that promise.

Rating: TV-16, racial slurs, wildlife injury

Cast: Jae Suh Park, Emerson Min, Miya Cech, West Mulholland, Seamus Deaver, Marshall Allman and Ken Jeong.

Credits: Directed by Jean Shim, scripted by Jeff Yang, Martina Nagel and Jean Shim. A Gravitas Ventures release on Amazon Prime.

Running time: 1:40

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Documentary Preview: “Kerouac’s Road — The Beat of a Nation”

Natalie Merchant, W. Kamau Bell, Josh Brolin, Jay McInerny, Matt Dillon and Kerouac’s pal, jazzman David Amran, are among those testifying to the genius of his masterpiece, “On the Road.”

Slick, star-studded, some guy from Michelle Obama’s WH staff directed it. But still…

August 1, all ye disciples of the world’s greatest Slim Gaillard fan gather at the cineplex for this one.

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Netflixable? Muay Thai vs Zombies — “Ziam”

Nothing to see here, just another country and another culture coping with the Zombie Apocalypse.

“Ziam” is basically a test for those of us committed to watching any thriller featuring Muay Thai martial artists facing and dispensing with hordes of foes. We got hooked thanks to “Ong-Bak,” so it’s not our fault.

The film, directed and co-written “The Up Rank” filmmaker Kulp Kaljareuk, is generic in the extreme, finding little new to “say” about zombies and how they came to be in a literal or political/allegorical sense. Fighting off lurching, lunging monsters with “BRAINS” on the brain with your feet and fists isn’t wholly novel. But some effort was made to set this up differently from all the other zombie films that preceded it.

Climate change has brought human civilization to the brink. But Thailand has discovered a way out of mass famine. The mysterious scientist/tycoon Mr. Vasu invented nutrition bars that fill the food gap. The totalitarian government heralds this as their way of making Thailand “Siam” again, a nation of great import and a major player on the world stage.

Singh (Mark Prin Suparat) is a not-quite-retired boxer making his living as a delivery driver, one who’s able to fend off hijacking attempts. That latest load that he and his partner got stuck with? Fish.

That turns out to be Mr. Vasu’s latest miracle. He has made fish safe to eat again, or so he thinks when he gives his investors and top lieutenants a serving. The fact that Vasu’s not there should be their tip that every experiment needs guinea pigs. Somebody gets very sick.

Vasu (Mark Prin Suparat) has all but moved into the hospital, trying to find a miracle cure for his deathly-ill wife. But when one of his minions is brought there, sick and raving, Vasu won’t be the only one facing the consequences.

There’s Dr. Rin (Nuttanicha Dungwattanawanich), coming on duty after her latest argument with Singh over his dangerous line of work. Her favorite nurse (Pimmada Boriruksuppakorn) and that nurse’s asthmatic little boy (Wanvayla Boonnithipaisit) are also inside when that one raving patient becomes an outbreak that could threaten the city, the country and the world.

Luckily, Singh shows up to fend off the zombies and battle the SWAT team sent to fetch the tycoon, his wife and the doctor he now insists he needs to keep her alive.

Young Buddy is the one who’s seen lots of zombie movies, the kid who shouts “Hit’em in the HEAD. The brain controls everything” (in Thai with subtitles, or dubbed into English)! Buddy’s asthma is only evident when Mom gives him his inhaler. The character’s a cliche. And in such thrillers, so is his illness.

“Ziam” — the title’s a zombie “Siam” pun — is a slow-footed affair, delivering a few energetic if not all that interesting brawls, but little else.

Suparat, of “Necromancer 2020,” handles the fight choreography with ease. It’s not the most demanding we’ve seen, and other than that, there’s little that plays as “original” in this latest dance with the undead.

Our tycoon never admits his hand in this disaster, the kid veers from terrified to amused at all these lumbering, bloodied monsters who seem to have it in for him.

The doctor is plucky, but only in the dullest and most predictable ways. Self-sacrifice shows up at the most expected moment. And the ticking clock third act has been here and done that in more movies than one can count.

Still, as the headline says, “Ziam” is Muay Thai vs. Zombies. If they’d just titled it that they might have saved a lot of us 97 minutes that we’ll never get back.

Rating: TV-MA, gory violence, body parts, entrails and what not

Cast: Mark Prin Suparat, Nuttanicha Dungwattanawanich, Wanvayla Boonnithipaisit, Johnny Afone, Pimmada Boriruksuppakorn and Jason Young

Credits: Directed by Kulp Kaljareuk, scripted by Nut Nualpang, Weerasu Worrapot and
Kulp KaljareukA Netflix release.

Running time: 1:37

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Classic Film Review: Race in the Deep South of Faulkner and Clarence Brown — “Intruder in the Dust” (1949)

The late novelist Harper Lee was press-shy almost her entire life, especially after “To Kill a Mockingbird” made her world famous. That was her way of avoiding answering one obvious question that weighs on the mind of cinephiles.

“Did you ever read ‘Intruder in the Dust?'”

On seeing the

Clarence Brown film adaptation of William Faulkner’s novel while researching the University of Tennessee alum Brown for a profile I was writing, I distinctly recall formulating how I’d ask Lee the question if I was to ever get the chance.

“How many times did you watch that movie?”

Faulkner beat Lee to the innocent Black man in jail in the Deep South story by a dozen years. Brown, one of MGM’s longest serving contract directors, the studio’s choice for Garbo movies and auteur of such studio system classics as “The Yearling,” “National Velvet” and “Flesh and the Devil,” got his film of that 1948 novel in front of audiences a year later — in 1949.

Another “coming of age” tale from the director of “The Human Comedy” and “The Yearling” or not, America wasn’t ready for “Intruder in the Dust” in the late ’40s.

Lee sentimentalized her coming of age narrative, that of a child’s view of an accused Black man defended by the ultimate “white savior,” Atticus Finch, a lionized version of her father. The adoring, tomboyish Scout was her alter ego in the narrative. The novel became one of the most beloved texts in American literature and the Civil Rights Era release of the Robert Mulligan/Gregory Peck film version was a watershed moment for shifting race relations in America.

Faulkner wasn’t sentimental. Most filmmakers who tackled his novels tended to give them florid, drawling Tennessee Williams touches. Brown made sure his coming-of-age movie didn’t lapse into sentiment or Deep South soliloquies, even as he was casting his “Yearling” star Claude Jarman Jr. as his sympathetic if skeptical protagonist, a witness and grudging “friend” to the “proud, stubborn and insufferable” antagonist, a Black man (Juano Hernandez) accused of murdering a belligerant, racist bully.

Brown & MGM made a Southern Gothic noir, a suspenseful thriller that didn’t blink at the big questions it was asking, a movie years ahead of its time. MGM, run by the ever-cautious, don’t-rock-the-cultural-boat Louis B. Mayer, was a most reluctant partner in this one.

“Mockingbird” may be an emotional Oscar winning classic, influencing generations. But “Intruder” is Clarence Brown’s masterpiece, flinty and blunt and cynical, and not shy about showing racists in their natural environment, trotting out their favorite slur as the ultimate evocation of white privilege.

In an unnamed town (Oxford, Mississippi) in a nameless Southern county in the fictive 1940s “present,” a local tough has been murdered. It’s the buzz of the barber shop, which bristles with racist fury wondering if the sheriff (Will Geer) has “got the n—er” who everybody knows pulled the trigger.

That barber shops empties out when the sheriff rolls up in his mud-covered, one-tire-flat sedan and Lucas Beauchamp (Hernandez) is led out in cuffs. The accused is stoic and inexpressive. But that one kid (Jarman) he fixates on in a crowd of angry white men gets his attention. He wants to see the Chick’s uncle.

That would be the boy’s Uncle John (Brian James), an arrogant, cynical lawyer who wants nothing to do with this case, and makes that plain over Sunday dinner with the family. That’s one reason Chick takes his sweet time passing on Beauchamp’s message. Another is to underscore a point about how even the justice and fair play white folks in town are in no hurry to “save” this Negro. The murder victim might have been a redneck bully. But he was white. Beauchamp’s fate is sealed.

Even lawyer Stevens is resigned to the lynching to come. “Won’t be their first,” he notes, firing up his pipe as if he has all the time in the world.

The boy has history with the Negro, an awkard encounter (seen in flashback) that was uneasy because the boy didn’t know what to make of a proud, self-assured man who treated him as what he was, a boy, and not the “white boy” who expected and received deference from the other Black people he’s met.

Something about that meeting and their “exchange” has Chick feeling indebted to Beauchamp, or at least determined to get a humble “thank you” from him. That’s why he takes Beauchamp’s next and most unbelievable request to heart. With the help of a household servant (Elzie Emmanuel) and a little old lady (Elizabeth Patterson) determined to ensure the sheriff does the right thing, Chick sets out for the fresh grave containing the victim, far outside of town.

Do-nothing lawyer be damned, they’re going to look for what caliber bullet killed Vinson Gowrie.

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