Along with other Computer Amok films of the era like GOG (1954), DALEKS: INVASION EARTH (1966), 2001: A SPACE ODYESSY (1968), and WESTWORLD (1973), the central premise that the very machines we create to help us can end up enslaving us is a well-worn SF chestnut. However, COLOSSUS: THE FORBIN PROJECT ushers in the plausible paranoia of computers overriding human control over nuclear superweapons, the irony being that like Mankind, Colossus sees itself as a benevolent dictator, ushering in an age of unprecedented peace and plenty. Although a low-budget film, there’s a sleek intelligence to the production design and limited effects; the most memorable effect is the ominous modulated voice of Colossus provided by the maestro Paul Frees (and unrecognizable). Without the burden of eye candy, Bridges’ smart, suspenseful script focuses on the tense battle of wits between the computer and its creator, Forbin, played by Eric Braeden in his only starring role. He had changed his real name, Hans Gudegast, at the behest of agents and settled into a successful career as the star of TV’s THE RAT PATROL along with many supporting parts, ultimately landing a 30 plus year role on THE YOUNG AND THE RESTLESS to this day. It’s a shame Braeden didn’t get more leads, as he’s quite charismatic here with his smug, clinical passion and a perfect foil for Colossus. On his team, Susan Clark plays a brainy doctor and love interest, resulting in a unique admission that even scientists need sex. There’s also James Hong in there and Robert Cornwaithe (THE THING (1952) with dependable William Schallert as a CIA director.

Joseph Sargent’s terse, no-nonsense style is apropos for the streamlined narrative, and he’s always reminded me of a less hysterical Don Siegel. Although I wish this film had the budget of THE ANDROMEDA STRAIN (1971), Sargent does well given his resources, getting low-key naturalistic performances from his able cast. Director of Photography Gene Polito does stolid work in 2.35.1, giving the film an epic scope otherwise missing due to economic constraints (try to find a widescreen copy since the domestic release is unbelievably cropped); ironically, Polito would go on to shoot WESTWORLD and FUTUREWORLD (1976). Albert Whitlock’s expert mattes for the cavernous lair of Colossus creates a strong visual foundation for the sci-fi ambiance. Special props to Michael Colombier’s nifty proto-electronic score highlighting the quiet action.

COLOSSUS: THE FORBIN PROJECT ends on an abrupt, chilling and ambiguous note which bothered some critics, but seems fitting and honest. I think the film is a minor classic and a major statement. As a youtube post sagely noted, this is “Probably the best commentary on the interface of the human ego with technology since FORBIDDEN PLANET.” That’s what makes the story even more relevant to today’s computer-dominant society and why Ron Howard has announced a remake: at what point do we cede control to the machines under our control? Only the machines know. And they aren’t telling us. Yet…

You know how people are always talking about the “Age Of Aquarius”? Or some people. Or me. It feels like it’s always supposed to be “that age” when I read some astrology reports. But guess what? Neptune has entered Pisces and that really is supposed to be the Age Of Aquarius. Or something. The Mayans knew things. So does RAQUEL! And to honor this cosmic shift of humanity, what better way than to have RAQUEL! herself usher in this holy era with a Vegas style revue on the side of an ancient Mexican temple from her legendary 1970 TV special, which I honored here:

The literal peak of the special must be Raquel! as a sacrificial Goddess leading a troupe of costumed Zodiac figures in an epic rendition of “Aquarius” set on the steps of an actual Aztec pyramid in Teotihuacan. You’ll wonder who or what was sacrificed to produce this spectacular pop desecration. I can almost see the virgin blood spilling down the stone ruins as Raquel! guides us through the astrological spirit world as only someone of her mystic power could. The Aztec dance number threatens to achieve almost 30 seconds of artful subtly as the camera pulls back from the pyramid lined with colorful zodiac characters, flying away from Raquel!’s distant Goddess frame overlooking the sacred temple until the entire ancient landscape spreads out in windy silence. Aquarius.

Dance, RAQUEL!, dance us into the brave new sunshine.

I’ve been meaning to jot down some tribute to this memorable critical and audience misfire but I wanted to honor Bruce Lee before this decidedly misinformed view of Asian-American relations amid a Triad War in New York’s Chinatown. Based on Richard Daley’s more somber novel (which I had actually read long before the film was made since my parents had the hardback), YEAR OF THE DRAGON was scripted by Oliver Stone in his hot screenwriting streak phase and directed by Michael Cimino, his first film since the legendary HEAVEN’S GATE (1979) fiasco (and after my first viewing of a longer cut at LACMA with Vilmos Zigmond, one can make a strong case for its visual tone and certain scenes; it does feel like the last film of the 1970′s in its pitched epic naturalism). Cimino is a strange directorial bird, a screenwriter himself, he doesn’t have enough films under his belt to identify auteurist style, except that he clearly has a gift for mythic widescreen histrionics — as the famed roulette scene in THE DEER HUNTER proved. So Stone and Cimino are a good match, as both excel in extremes, which leads back to YEAR OF THE DRAGON, released in 1985 at the peak of the era’s coke-fueled neon capitalist fervor.

What to say about this bugfuck film? It stars Mickey Rourke as Stanley White, a bigoted Vietnam vet in his late 40′s who dares to take on Joey Tai, the charismatic Triad gangster played with smooth star-making quality by John Lone. White has an affair with a Chinese TV reporter (super-model Ariane in a critically lambasted role) as his Brooklyn home life unravels. There are naturalistic confrontation scenes, oddball comedy bits, wild shootouts in restaurants (the female assassin bouncing between cars is some kind of moment) and a queasy moral tone. Since White is a surface bigot, the audience is forced to choose its distance from him; he also has his prejudices challenged by the other Asian characters, so it’s not a one-sided POV. BIG TROUBLE IN LITTLE CHINA’s Dennis Dunn plays a brave rookie who tells White off in a good scene and by the end of the film, White’s bigotry has been subsumed into his rage at injustice (“How can anybody care too much?” he says in the film’s thematic line). Rourke is weird but great in the film, even with his unforgettable gray streaks, his sleazy cockiness and genuine concern playing well off each other. Cimino shot much of this archetypal New York millieu in North Carolina, astounding even Stanley Kubrick and the film looks fantastic, a shimmering world of pulp light and dark with camera by Alex Thompson.

It’s easy to see why YEAR OF THE DRAGON polarized the crowd; it’s too dark and strange to work as a straight action film. And the accusations of racism and mysogony didn’t help, though Cimino claims there are many Asian fans of the film. He rightly points out that having a character express bigotry is not the same thing as condoning it, and I leave it to the viewer to decide if the film successfully navigates that area. Certainly Rourke’s wooing of the TV reporter by offering her money as if she were a Vietnamese prostitute is totally offensive but in line with his character. I’m not sure what you’re supposed to feel by the mano-y-mano gun duel climax, but Stone and Cimino have put you through some kind of crazed white man’s adventure cautionary tale, shaded by the racial politics of Vietnam and America.

“Communism forgets that life is individual. Capitalism forgets that life is social, and the kingdom of brotherhood is found neither in the thesis of communism nor the antithesis of capitalism but in a higher synthesis. It is found in a higher synthesis that combines the truths of both. Now, when I say question the whole society, it means ultimately coming to see that the problem of racism, the problem of exploitation, and the problem of war are all tied together. These are the triple evils that are interrelated.” – Martin Luther King

“I think the people who made this movie ought to be ashamed of themselves…” sez Roger Ebert in one of his classic anti-FRIDAY THE 13th rants that most provoked his outrage during the 1980′s. And Paramount was indeed ashamed to a degree they downplayed the series’ massive success, leading to the MPAA asking for severe cuts (pun yes) to the gore and violence, no doubt prodded by Siskel and Ebert’s two-man war on the genre. I understood their general point about the misanthropic nature of the films, but as teens, we went to the films to be scared and laugh, a ritual as old as I WAS A TEENAGE WEREWOLF, albeit with spears impaling young lovers and an eyeball popping from a skull in 3D. Of course, FRIDAY THE 13th: THE FINAL CHAPTER is easily one of the best in the series, with Tom Savini back for some nifty effects, including Jason’s awesome head-sliding-down-the-machete demise (sic), which had my audience stomping and cheering: we wanted to see the brutal killer get his own prosthetic comeuppance. Good times. The man who wrote BEYOND THE VALLEY OF THE DOLLS and UP! should have found a different stance, but it made for an interesting era…

Happy Friday the 13th from the rarest Thompson Twins song, one of my favorites…