While this guy was busy jacking off to the trailer, we scooped up this exclusive image of the new Entertainment Weekly cover due out this week. And if you were busy hitchhiking your way to Comic Con and missed the trailer, here it is in all its Quicktime splendor…

- Brandon W.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9yNitSBXzsA

Chasing a dream is one thing, but living alone with a full animatronic band of bears and wolves is something else all together. The Rock-afire Explosion follows Chris Thrash as he tries to fulfill his lifelong quest to own and cuddle with the Rock-afire Explosion band (of Showbiz Pizza fame). The tiny indie production company Window Pictures is putting out the doc later this year. Add this to the pile of films attempting to demystify the 80’s nerd culture. All we have to say is: keep trying, that shit goes deep. Thank God this dude isn’t obsessed with The Hall of Presidents. No one wants to wake up to Lincoln malfunctioning.

Rock-afire Explosion doing “Conquest” by the White Stripes after the jump…

– Brandon W.

Jason Statham is the new Vin Diesel. In flick after flick, Statham looks like Statham looks like Statham who can never look as cool as Tango or truly kick ass like Cash. Dude never changes. Whether he’s in prison, kicking some dudes soul from his face or fucking some chick, he looks, sounds, acts and struts exactly the same. Is a fucking wig too much to ask? A beard? I vote for him being billed as himself from now on.

The trailer provides the makings for a scrumptious shit sandwich: two cups Spy Hunter , one dash of Speed and a sprinkle of Tango & Cash buddy/prison action campiness. I’d rather eat Speed 2.

One last thing: Spy Hunter has the best video game theme of all time. Built for fuckin’.

- Brandon W.

A case of mistaken identity. A series of anonymous phone calls. Interrogation by a stern, fifty-ish CIA/FBI/ATF official. Young people running from their wannabe captors, jumping out of windows, ducking from explosions. White people in sleek, sterile offices tracking and watching and toying with cool gadgets. And the obligatory passport; someone always has to look at a passport. Welcome to the world of the Hollywood technological thriller. Don’t know about you, but we’re over this shit. It all looks the same; Hackers meets Untraceable meets 88 Minutes. Fifty bucks if you can name the voice on the cell phone…

– Harry Caul

Starring Emile Hirsch, Speed Racer is far less concerned with the titular character and more about his younger brother Spritle (Paulie Litt) and his monkey pal, Chim Chim. The main narrative of Speed battling corruption in the extreme racing world really is secondary to Spritle and Chim Chim mugging for the camera. Apart from an extended race sequence that takes up most of the second act (a cross between Death Race 2000 and the pod race scene from The Phantom Menace), only a few scenes avoid interruption by a dose of comic relief. This manages to make Speed Racer a mighty bumpy ride; one that swings wildly between family melodrama, corporate double dealing, and abject goofiness. Likewise, inter-cutting confounding candy-colored “car fu” set pieces with bathos bathed performances by Susan Sarandon and John Goodman as Speed’s folks makes for a rather schizophrenic viewing experience.

No one can accuse the Wachowski siblings of injecting Speed Racer with the same philosophical claptrap that marred the latter Matrix movies. Apart from brief appearances from Matthew Fox as “mysterious” Racer X and Christina Ricci as Trixie, there’s little compelling about this early summer confectionary. A Diet Coke movie (tastes sweet, bitter aftertaste, and not much substance), Speed Racer is sure to please the tykes and deafen the parents. — Mike White

Tags: Speed Racer, Andy Wachowski, Larry Wachowski, Emile Hirsch, Paulie Litt, Susan Sarandon, John Goodman, Matthew Fox, Christina Ricci

Steeped in movie references, The Ninth Configuration follows Kane’s relationship with Captain Billy Cutshaw (Scott Wilson). Both men engage in wild theological discussions that traverse the insane to the sublime, as Cutshaw looks for a sign of altruism in a world of destruction and madness.

With crackling dialogue and spectacular performances from Wilson and Keach (perhaps his best role ever), it’s truly a wonder that The Ninth Configuration was William Peter Blatty’s freshman film. Atmospheric and utterly enjoyable, the film serves as a true sequel to William Friedkin’s “The Exorcist” (which Blatty wrote and adapted). In The Ninth Configuration (based upon Blatty’s “Twinkle Twinkle ‘Killer’ Kane”), the author/filmmaker expands the story of Captain Cutshaw, who made an appearance in The Exorcist (the possessed Reagan tells him he’ll die “up there”), just as he would expand the role of Lieutenant Kinderman in The Exorcist III. — Mike White

Tags: The Ninth Configuration, William Peter Blatty, Stacy Keach, Scott Wilson, The Exorcist, The Exorcist III

If you’ve seen Airplane! then you’ve seen Zero Hour, though you may not be aware of it. In the museum of 1970s disaster films, an entire wing is dedicated to airplane-themed films. A subject rife for parody, the comedy team of Jim Abrahams, David Zucker and Jerry Zucker cherry picked ideas from Airport, Airport ’75, Airport ’77, et cetera. Yet, at the heart of Airplane! lay Hall Bartlett’s Zero Hour.

Canadian airman Ted Stryker (Dana Andrews) cracked up under pressure when a mission he led went wrong. He boards a plane in pursuit of his family, despite being haunted of visions of his failed mission. A fluke case of food poisoning incapacitates the flight crew, leaving Stryker the only man who can save the Flight 714 to Vancouver. He’s coached to the ground by the hardnosed Captain Treleaven (Sterling Hayden) who’s disgusted by Stryker, thinking he’s a gutless wonder until the washed-up pilot redeems himself.

Overflowing with melodrama, the dialog in Zero Hour sets up nearly every joke in Airplane! Anyone who saw the 1980 comedy will be busting at the seams to keep from joking as each line rings familiar, tweaked just slightly and then pushed into absurdity with straight-faced delivery. “Looks like I picked the wrong week to quit smoking.” — Mike White

Tags: Zero Hour, Hal Bartlett, Airplane!, Dana Andrews, Sterling Hayden

“The world has no place for fantasies,” learns parolee Dennis Pitt (Anthony Perkins) after he meets apple-pie sweet Sue Ann Stepanek (Tuesday Weld). He first spies her bearing the flag in her high school marching band as they run through a John Philip Sousa piece in the park. Dennis’s grasp on reality isn’t as tight as it should be. Later, as he inspects bottles pass him by on an assembly line, he sees them as miniature marchers in a beautiful parade. The bottles of chemicals may look pretty but they’re deadly; just like Sue Ann.

Dennis approaches her pretending to be a CIA operative, and the idea of something out of the norm in her quaint town turns her on. A plan is hatched to sabotage the chemical plant where Dennis has been working “as cover.” When a night watchman gets in the way, Sue Ann takes care of him with a few “bops” to the side of the head. “He sure is bleeding,” she says. Dennis watches in horror as she rolls the body into the river where the chemical runoff swirls with the fresh water.

Sex and death are intertwined in Noel Black’s film just as the lovely red runoff mixes with the fresh water of Sue Ann’s small town. Pretty Poison is technically beautiful with its color palette and match cuts as well as being a compelling film. The characters are engaging, and Weld is particularly terrific as the enigmatic Sue Ann. No slouch himself, Perkins turns in a stand out performance as Dennis. Between his roles in Pretty Poison and Psycho six years earlier, Perkins would find himself typecast as a loon.

Never officially released on VHS, Pretty Poison finally found a DVD release in late 2006. — Mike White

Tags: Pretty Poison, Noel Black, Anthony Perkins, Tuesday Weld

Hong Kong action meets Cannon Film sensibility in Ringo Lam’s Full Contact (aka Xia dao Gao Fei). The film opens with a robbery where audiences meet baddies Judge, Virgin, and Deano. A motley band of outlaws, Deano is a mohawked muscle man, Virgin is a drooling nymphomaniac, and Judge (Simon Yam) is a homosexual magical assassin in a snake-skin jacket. These three big city felons team with Judge’s cousin, Sam (Anthony Wong), and his two pals, Chung (Chris Lee) and Gou Fei (Chow Yun Fat) on an arms heist with hopes of scoring enough cash to pay off a loan shark.

It’s no surprise that things go awry, culminating in Sam betraying Gou Fei and leaving him for dead. Big mistake. Healed by some convenient Buddhist monks, Gou Fei teaches himself how to shoot with his left hand (his right now missing a few digits) and swears to avenge himself and the innocents that Judge and his gang killed or maimed. When Gou Fei resurfaces he finds that Sam has turned from nerd to hardened criminal, even helping himself to Mona (Ann Bridgewater), Gou Fei’s girl.

A classic tale of revenge, Full Contact is one of Ringo Lam’s few good films. Though sparing, the gunfights are well orchestrated, with the highlight being a super-stylized shootout in a dance club featuring point-of-view shots from bullets. Known for setting up potentially terrific action sequences only to deliver one anticlimax after another, Lam is a low rent John Woo wannabe. Best known for his contribution to Quentin Tarantino’s Reservoir Dogs (Lam’s City on Fire was plundered for Tarantino’s freshman film), Lam followed in Woo’s footsteps when he left Hong Kong to make an astounding number of movies with Jean-Claude Van Damme (Maximum Risk, Replicant, In Hell, Wake of Death). — Mike White

Tags: Full Contact, Ringo Lam, Chow Yun Fat, John Woo, Quentin Tarantino, Reservoir Dogs, Jean-Claude Van Damme

Teenage groupie Dorothy (Joy Dunstan) is living in the land down under where she and her pal Jane (Paula Maxwell) spend Friday evenings at the local youth center catching unknown musical groups like Wally and the Falcons. Hitching a ride from the band, things go awry when their van goes in a ditch, sending Dorothy over the rainbow and into a dream realm inspired by L. Frank Baum. A play on the nickname for Australia, 20th Century Oz follows the blueprint laid out by the Victor Fleming film of 1939 with a few updates appropriate to Australia in the 1970s.

And, oh, what happens then. This is rich. Instead of traipsing down the Yellow Brick Road, Dorothy hitches a ride with a dull-witted surfer named Blondie (perennial Aussie star Bruce Spence) before meeting mechanic Greasie (Michael Carman) and cowardly motorcyclist Killer the Bikie (Garry Waddell). The trio of familiar faces (all members of The Falcons) helps Dorothy on her quest to see The Wizard (Graham Matters), an androgynous glam rocker who’s playing his farewell show that night. The group isn’t completely altruistic, however, as the heartless Greasie keeps trying to get in Dorothy’s pants.

Oz is only a musical in the sense that the soundtrack impedes on the action whenever there’s a driving scene. There are no “Over the Rainbow” ballads here. The main refrain is Ross Wilson’s “Livin’ in the Land of Oz,” a strange little ditty about the colonization of Australia which recounts the slaughter of Aborigines. The most toe-tapping song about genocide to be sure, but nothing that Mandy Patankin would ever want to cover.

There are quite a number of jokes and references that succeed in Löfvén’s film. Matters plays more than just The Wizard and Wally — like Frank Morgan, he also appears in several smaller roles including the doorman who denies Dorothy entry to see The Wizard. (He consents with the implied promise of some fellatio after the show). Meanwhile, the good witch Glinda finds new life as Glin (Robin Ramsay), a good “fairy” who shows up repeatedly to help Dorothy on her road trip. However, the film doesn’t go far enough in its transposition of Baum’s tale, its biggest fault being the lack of a compelling villain. Seen only for an instant as a bouncer yelling at Dorothy, in her dreamworld Truckie (Ned Kelly) just drives around in a lorry, menacingly of course. Still, 20th Century Oz remains an interesting, albeit flawed, experiment. — Mike White

Tags: 20th Century Oz, Wizard of Oz, Glinda, Dorothy, Joy Dunstan

Tony Stark makes you feel that he’s a cool exec with a heart of steel. However, he’s really a wounded loner who hides his hurt with booze, broads, and banter. Luckily, Jon Favreau’s Iron Man isn’t a pathos-filled whine fest about a misunderstood multimillionaire. Instead it strikes a fine balance between defining Tony Stark and providing a wild comic book movie.

Casting Robert Downey Jr. as Tony Stark is genius. The actor has the dark good looks, sure, but he’s also got a history of substance abuse that telegraphs into his role. The tone of Iron Man manages to be consistent despite its four screenwriters, thanks to the free reign Farveau gave the cast. He encouraged them to ad-lib, and Downey manages to make relatively staid scenes a hoot through inspired quips.

As with all initial outings of comic-based characters, Iron Man is an origin story. The difference between him and his Marvel brethren is that Iron Man is a self-made superhero. Like Bruce Wayne, Tony Stark channels his pain into fighting crime after a life-changing experience. Here Stark is captured by a terrorist organization who demands that he build them a missile system. Instead, he forges a super suit that allows him to escape and provides inspiration for his new life’s work, which is forgoing weapons systems for helping mankind. The rest of the film gives Stark the opportunity to see who, if anyone, his real friends are. It also lets the audience in on the fun, since we can check out Iron Man fighting and smiting with repulsor rays. — Mike White

Tags: Iron Man, Robert Downey, Jr., Tony Stark, Jon Favreau, Bruce Wayne

The first thing a viewer notices about Robert Altman’s science fiction film is how dirty the camera’s lens is. The edges of the frame seem smeared, lending the film a dreamy, flashback quality. However, Quintet is not from the past but the future. It’s a post-apocalyptic film starring Paul Newman as Essex and Brigitte Fossey as the pregnant simpleton Vivia, and their world is a bleak, icy wasteland populated by packs of roaming dogs and human bands obsessed with an elaborate board game.

Not just a pastime for some, the chess-like game of the film’s title is taken to extremes in a high stakes tournament of life and death. After a series of assassinations, Essex takes the place of a deceased Quintet player and becomes embroiled in a cloak and dagger championship that puts his life on the line in a quest to stop his overzealous competitors.

The cast, clad in hand-me-downs from Dr. Zhivago, often seems as disinterested in performing as the viewer might feel trying to stomach the drivel on screen. Obtuse to the point of being obscure, Quintet moves at a snail’s pace, as if this were enough to give the film credibility. In a career filled with hits and misses, Quintet was not quite as wrong-headed as Altman’s Ready to Wear, but it certainly was close. — Mike White

Tags: Quintet, Robert Altman, Paul Newman, Brigitte Fossey

Released the same year as Michael Sarne’s Myra Breckinridge, this is a lower rent but far more successful interpretation of similar themes. The film opens with aging starlet Dinah East dying in the back of her limousine. When a lecherous mortician takes an opportunity to see a Hollywood luminary naked (some things never change), he discovers that Ms. East had been living with a secret — she was actually a man. Shockwaves ripple through the media as well as East’s loved ones.

Told via a series of flashbacks, Dinah East has a similar structure to Citizen Kane with Dinah’s penis serving as her “Rosebud.” Viewers are introduced to her lovers, male and female, her adopted son, and others whose lives she touched. (East is played somewhat convincingly by Jeremy Stockwell.) Along the way there’s ample opportunity for softcore sex scenes, bump-n-grind musical tracks, and flaccid full frontal male nudity.

Written and directed by Gene Nash, Dinah East vacillates schizophrenically between touching drama and cheesy sexploitation. (Some bootleg versions of the film even remove a half-hour of the drama in favor of a tighter, sleazier, cut.) With a larger budget, better acting, and less clunky dialogue (“I pray to God you’ve had a man, so you can compare…”), Dinah East might have been a far more effective and groundbreaking study in gender politics. As it is, Nash’s film is most notable for allegedly having been attacked by Mae West for defamation of character. This stems from a rumor that the ball-busting starlet once had a pair of her own, but apart from their latitudinal monikers, few similarities exist between the real and fictional starlets. (Despite the rarity of the print, TLA Video released a complete, albeit muddy, version of Dinah East to DVD in mid-2007.) — Mike White

Tags: Dinah East, Jeremy Stockwell, Myra Breckinridge, Mae West, Gene Nash

What the hell happened to Mike Nichols? The director once delivered consistent films that held up a mirror to American bourgeoisie society with such poignant fare as The Graduate and Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?, but that was before his bite became gummy with film s like Heartburn and What Planet Are You From? Written by Jules Feiffer (Little Murders), Carnal Knowledge was the first pairing of Nichols with actor Jack Nicholson. He plays Jonathan Fuerst, a frustrated Lothario who plays “bad boy” to his friend Sandy’s “nice guy.” In only his second feature film (the first being Nichols’s Catch-22), Art Garfunkel turns in a terrific performance as Sandy.

Also in the mix are Susan (Candice Bergen) and Bobbie (Ann-Margret) as the major women in Jonathan’s life. The fights between Jonathan and Bobbie are absolutely intense. Nicholson pulls out all the stops as he goes off the handle, showing how great of an actor he could be before he gave it up for a career in self-parody. — Mike White

Tags: Carnal Knowledge, Jack Nicholson, Mike Nichols, Ann-Margaret, Candice Bergen, Art Garfunkel

A mock-you-mentary about the business of so-called “reality” television, American Cannibal mixes talking head interviews with TV producers, writers, marketers, and stars with the story of an ill-fated reality show. The film follows writers Gil S. Ripley and Dave Roberts as they make pitches to various production companies. Their original idea, “Virgin Territory,” would trap male virgins in a house filled with pornography and other temptations. The contestant who made it through all of the challenges — including the toughest battle to be the master of their own domain — would be allowed to lose their virginity to a porn starlet. Along the way they stumble upon the idea of “American Cannibal,” an “Average Joe”-type show where contestants are vetted for their outrageous behavior before leading them to believe that they may be forced to eat one another to win the game.

It’s obvious that Ripley and Roberts are pranksters. They pitch completely inappropriate material to various network executives who are all very polite in their rejection. Amazingly, no one ever seems to call them on these ideas. Rather, the more crazed the stories, the more meetings they get until they finally seem to make a connection and get a show underway. From here, it seems like American Cannibal should have ventured deeper into the casting process, showing the battery of tests and background checks that applicants endure (or don’t). Filmmakers Peter Grebin and Michael Nigro would have done well to take a tip from Milos Forman’s Audition. Instead, this process is abbreviated and the viewer doesn’t connect with the participants of “American Cannibal.”

The botched shooting and subsequent disintegration of the production feels like it was too heavily influenced by This is Spinal Tap and And God Spoke, including the faux break-up of Ripley and Roberts. While the conceit of the writers pushing absurd ideas through the “reality system” may be humorous, American Cannibal would have done better as a fact-based documentary on the business of “keepin’ it real.” — Mike White

Tags: American Cannibal, This is Spinal Tap, Milos Forman, Peter Grebin, Michael Nigro

Poor Arthur Waldo (Terry Camilleri). The painfully soft-spoken man is deathly afraid of driving after accidentally killing a man a year before, and then he has the bad luck to pass through Paris, Australia. There the residents have blocked and booby trapped all of the roads leading in and out of town to kill unsuspecting passersby. The local economy is based on the goods taken from these wrecks, and any possible survivors are handed over to Dr. Midland (Kevin Miles) for his less-than-ethical experiments. Arthur is one of the few exceptions to the medical program. Instead, he’s welcomed to Paris with open arms and adopted by the Mayor (John Meillon) and his wife.

Paris may initially seem peaceful to Arthur, but he soon learns of the uneasy truce between the fine, upstanding citizens of Paris and the rabble, young men with salvaged, highly decorated cars that they enjoy bashing into one another. These punks form “The Cars,” a car club that seems to be grooming future members of The Humongous’s gang in The Road Warrior.

Artfully directed by Peter Weir, The Cars That Ate Paris all comes together through the score by Bruce Smeaton. The music plays against and with the often surreal visuals, emphasizing the poetry of the film. — Mike White

Tags: The Cars That Ate Paris, Peter Weir, Bruce Smeaton, Arthur Waldo, The Road Warrior

This seldom seen film noir was recently rescued from obscurity by the “Film Noir Classics Collection.” The film stars Jean Gillie and was intended to be a showcase for her talents by her husband, director Jack Bernhard. She turns in a great performance as spider woman Margot Shelby, who plays three men against each other — the idealistic Dr. Craig (Herbert Rudley), condemned gangster (with a stash of dough) Frank Olins (Robert Armstrong), and tough guy Jim Vincent (Edward Norris). All the while she’s got straight-arrow Sergeant Joe Portugal (Sheldon Leonard in a huge hat) sniffing at her heels.

You have to hand it to Margot. She’s got an elaborate plan to spring Olins from the joint and get her mitts on his loot. She also knows what drugs the state will pump into Olins to execute him and, better yet, that there’s a cure. It’s Methylene Blue, and who better to administer it than Dr. Craig when he examines the “corpse” to declare Olins dead? Once he’s back amongst the living, the main characters engage in a series of double and triple crosses all in the hope to get the hidden $400K.

A staple of film noir, the story of Decoy is told as a flashback. What’s unusual, though, is that Margot — the femme fatale — narrates the tale. Apart from the overbearing score, it’s is a solid thriller and a notable entry in the noir pantheon. — Mike White

Tags: Decoy, Jack Bernhard, Jean Gillie, Herbert Rudley, Robert Armstrong, Edward Norris, Sheldon Leonard

Cannon Pictures bet the farm on Over the Top, and it lost. The story of a trucker named Lincoln Hawk (Sylvester Stallone) reuniting with his estranged son Michael (David Mendenhall, who acts as if he were an android learning to be human) through a road trip and a series of arm wrestling bouts is one of the weakest concepts imaginable. Moreover, it feels as if the entire film were made up of leftover ideas strung together by someone having access to a spare Semi rig.

Over the Top was an ego-fueled disaster. Directed by Menahem Golan (who also produced with his cousin and partner Yoram Globus) and co-written by Sylvester Stallone, there was undoubtedly no voice of reason behind the scenes to tell the main players that their ideas were weak. The film only comes close to working during its act which is shot faux-documentary style. The B-roll interviews with the arm wrestling contestants brings some much needed emotion to the proceedings and allows Stallone to show his underrated and underutilized chops. This section also provides the explanation to why Lincoln Hawk always turns his hat around before his bouts, making for one of the most quotable lines of the 1980s, had anyone besides teenage boys amped up on Sly’s turns in the Rambo and Rocky franchises seen this hot mess. — Mike White

Tags: Over the Top, Sylvester Stallone, Rambo, Rocky, Lincoln Hawk, Menahem Golan

When a couple of disreputable fellows decide to rob graves in the crypt where they store their chemical waste, a ill-timed earthquake tips over a barrel, unleashing gas that brings laconic blonde Catherine Valmont (Françoise Blanchard) back to life (inspiration for Return of the Living Dead). She stolidly uses her sharp fingernails on anyone that gets in her way as she ambles up from the crypt, only to return to the castle above it (talk about taking the long way ‘round).

More vampire than zombie, Catherine seems to require the blood of the living at regular intervals. Otherwise, she gets cranky. The realtor selling the castle in which she lived provides some further nourishment. Luckily, childhood pal Helene (Marina Pierro) is there to clean up the mess. She’s more than a little shocked to see Catherine up and about, as she should be. What’s more, she should be jealous at how good Catherine looks after two years in a coffin.

Helene swears to protect her “blood sister,” going so far as procuring nubile nymphs from the nearby village for Catherine to poke and feed upon. This provides plenty of pornographic violence with Sapphic overtones. Meanwhile, in the “B Story,” the rude American visitors try to figure out how Barbara snapped a photo of a woman reported dead who was wondering through the French countryside. It’s only a matter of time until the two storylines predictably intersect with sanguine results.

Rollin seems to have a great love of nudity and fake blood, two great things that go great together. The shots of Catherine feeding go on for far too long (even when fast forwarding). Shot with a rich color palette, Rollin seems to be aping high art while producing schlock. At least Joe D’Amato (Buried Alive) and Carlos Aured (House of Psychotic Women) knew that they were directing exploitation pictures, pure and simple. Living Dead Girl is best remembered for loaning its title to a Rob Zombie tune. As a song, it’s great. As a movie, not so good. — Mike White

Tags: Living Dead Girl, La Morte Vivant, Rob Zombie, Buried Alive, House of Psychotic Women

Helicopters arrive, laden with the chosen few plucked from their everyday lives and allowed entrance to a secret bunker set into a mountainside. They’ve been hand selected as American’s next best hope of civilization in the face of nuclear Armageddon. These ten civilians (along with a military escort) inhabit one of twelve similar installations around the country, pockets of civilization meant to retake the surface world once radiation has reached acceptable levels.

Thank goodness for the foresight of the U.S. government, they always think of everything! The bunker has private rooms, a five year supply of food, and an infestation of killer vampire bats. The underground lair was installed in a pre-existing New Mexican cave as a cost-saving measure, and the original inhabitants aren’t too pleased about sharing. The new residents are a varied lot of scientists, athletes, artists, and a lone businessman, proving that cockroaches and capitalists will survive the Apocalypse. As they watch the destruction of earth from satellites, it’s easy to believe that they’ve all been sequestered as part of an elaborate hoax.

“There’s a time to take it easy and there’s a time for action,” rants businessman Raymond Couzins (Jackie Cooper). He’s convinced that someone’s playing with them and he’s not too far from the truth.

At times Chosen Survivors comes dangerously close to being the “elevator episode” of a television show wherein diverse personalities overcome an adverse situation (like Vincenzo Natali’s Cube). That the cast is populated with familiar television faces (Alex Cord from “Airwolf,” Diana Muldaur from “Star Trek: The Next Generation,” et cetera) doesn’t help dispel this impression. The resume of Sutton Roley indicates that the director was far more comfortable working in episodic television than features. Finally, the John Carpenteresque synthesizer score by Fred Karlin (Westworld) is decidedly low rent.

Instead of being a poignant post-apocalyptic character study, the movie quickly devolves into a “crazed creature” feature more akin to John Cardos’s Kingdom of the Spiders than Peter Watkins’s Fällan. Shot in Murk-O-Vision by Gabriel Torres, Chosen Survivors was unavailable legitimately until 2007, when it was released as a double feature DVD with Earth Dies Screaming. — Mike White

Tags: Chosen Survivors, Jackie Cooper, Earth Dies Screaming, Sutton Roley, Airwolf