D V D s


describes the controlled exist­ ence of the two boys: “ ...a little gentleman always wears his hat." If nothing more, this served as a fine rehearsal for Karloffs even­ tual immortal work on HOW THE GRINCH STOLE CHRISTMAS (1966)! THE EMPEROR’S NIGHTIN­


GALE (available separately on tape from World Artists Home Video #VWA1100, $24.98) is, like the other films on this DVD, presented in seemingly uncom­ promised fullscreen and with acceptable Dolby Digital mono sound. Some slight flutter and tremble is evident (and under­ standable). All the films in this collection (save for the documen­ tary) display some signs of wear and tear, but remain fully watchable and enjoyable. The DVD authoring, as is usually the case with Image’s animation re­ leases, seems flawless, while two out of every five still frames are unstable. Save for the unfortu­ nate compromises visited on A DROP TOO MUCH, this is another standout compilation in the Im­ age series. —Shane M. Dallmann


REAL TIME: SIEGE AT LUCAS STREET MARKET


2000, Troma Team Video #0032, DD-2.0/LB/MA/+, $19.99, 70m 44s, DVD-A


Coopting the low-tech ten­


sion of THE BLAIR WITCH PROJECT and inspired by such classic hostage melodramas as THE PETRIFIED FOREST (1936), THE DESPERATE HOURS (1955) and Mario Bava’s RABID DOGS [Cani arrabbiati, 1974), Max Allan Collins’ REAL TIME: SIEGE AT LUCAS STREET MARKET uses the conceit of security cam­ era, broadcast news and police surveillance footage edited to­ gether, Reality TV-style, to tell the


66


story of a botched inner city stickup that escalates into a siege scenario. It’s ‘round midnight at the Lucas Street Market, a 24- hour Iowa convenience store patronized by mother-to-be Janet Lowe (Brinke Stevens), ir­ ritable stock broker Matthew Carlson (Sandy Gillet), “jailbait” shoplifter Anna (Rachel Lem­ ieux), grade school ballerina Melody Johnson (Randyl Mohr) and her harried stage mother (Carol Gorman). When local thugs Frank (Tom Keane) and Bud (Chadrick Hoch) hit the store—for cash needed to feed Bud’s heroin habit—Frank’s ac­ cidental shooting of a prowl car cop transforms the holdup into a “full-blown, four alarm hostage crisis.” Fans of Max Allan Collins’


shot-on-video psycho-thriller MOMMY (1995) and its 1998 se­ quel MOMMY 2: MOMMY’S DAY (both co-starring Stevens, Lem­ ieux and Michael Cornelison, who appears here as a hostage ne­ gotiator risking “procedural sui­ cide” to keep the siege from turning into a bloodbath) may get a kick out of his latest endeavor, which finds the writer-director working in a somewhat grittier vein. Forfeiting his trademark celebrity cameos and staying largely faithful to the “found foot­ age” gimmick (albeit with occa­ sional cheats that zoom into intimate moments), Collins plays to his low budget strengths, al­ lowing his regional performers to bring a touch of lumpen prob­ ability to this drama of ordinary folk caught up in extraordinary events. Like Mike Figgis’ TIME CODE (2000), REAL TIME often divides the onscreen action into as many as four quadrants, keep­ ing the viewer guessing from which angle the action will oc­ cur. The banality of the visuals


and the absence of incidental music lends to the project an as- it-happens ambiance that prom­ ises great, or at least unexpected, things. That REAL TIME fails, ultimately, to make good on this promise has everything to do with Collins’ weakness for the cheap irony of pulp fiction, and a seem­ ing inability to keep his tongue out of his cheek. Despite the “gross of fucks”


that evoke life on the street, REAL TIME’S backstory of slackers turning to crime to score dope is strictly Jack Webb. This might have flown had Frank and Bud felt in some way like bona fide perps, but actors Tom Keane and Chadrick Hoch are more loud than threatening, with their moments of quiet desperation having the emotional heft of bot- toms-up at a fraternity kegger. It’s great seeing fortysomething scream queen Brinke Stevens play against type, but Collins hedges his bets by having “the pregnant bitch with a big mouth” spout a series of unlikely one-lin­ ers that buck believability, ame­ liorating what little tension there is. (It is ironic that the actress’ final zinger to her would-be cap- tors will play best with those view­ ers who have invested the least in the film’s stab at verisimili­ tude.) Failing to register as ei­ ther a black comedy or a bit of true crime fakery, REAL TIME is still Collins’ best realized project to date (the double and quad split screens bring to mind comic book panels, coyly referencing Collins’ success as a writer of graphic novels) and the filmmaker may do well to attempt another project in this fashion—but hopefully one given more forethought and executed in a style that better suits a storyteller with no inter­ est in getting real.

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