The Alternate

A team of thieves-posing-as-terrorists take the occupants of a tall building hostage. One grizzled law official leads the fightback – climbing lift shafts and swinging around outside the building. All the while helped by a buddy cop down on the ground.

Sound familiar? Yup, you guessed right: it’s The Alternate (2000). Why, what else were you expecting?

Similarities to, ahem, another hostage building-based movie are of course entirely intentional. The marketing blurb on the cover even makes a feature of its plagiarism, proudly boasting: ‘In the tradition of Die Hard’. Presumably, in much the same way those knock-off sports vests with upside-down ticks are ‘in the tradition of’ Nike. You have to admire the chutzpah.

Still, we shouldn’t be churlish. Who doesn’t want to watch another movie filled to the brim with expertly choreographed action, pulse-quickening drama and witty one-liners? Unfortunately, this isn’t it. What you get here is more Try Hard than Die Hard.

The plot

While hosting a charity function, the American president is taken hostage by a group of terrorists. But unbeknown to POTUS, the abduction is actually a PR stunt to boost his re-election campaign. (Quite what the Prez has done to get himself in lumber with the voters isn’t specified. But it’s no doubt much more serious than publicly mocking disabled people, championing white supremacists, or bragging about grabbing strangers vaginas, because these days such actions are guaranteed ratings winners.)

Anyway, as is often the way with smart movie plans, something goes wrong. Unsurprisingly, one of the ‘fake’ kidnappers realises there’s much more money to be made by genuinely grabbing the commander-in-chief and demanding a humungous ransom.

All looks lost. But luckily for the fate of the free world, a ‘maverick’ CIA agent is on hand to save the day.

The cast

Eric Roberts: once a hotly tipped young gun

Let’s call a spade a spade. Much like Alan Rickman’s baddie (though with none of his roguish charm), this movie sets out to commit a daring, wholesale robbery – namely of the plot and characters of Die Hard. So let’s look at the actors, such as they are, through the prism of the Bruce Willis classic.

In the John McClane role, we have jobbing actor-for-hire, Eric Roberts. Yes, that Eric Roberts. The one who started out as a hotly-tipped young gun in such well-regarded movies as The Pope Of Greenwich Village and Star 80.

And yes, the one who, after some spectacular substance issues and a series of poor career choices (and let’s face it, one problem may well explain the other) saw the juicy roles dry up. Today, the one-time Oscar nominee is mostly known for being Julia Roberts’ estranged older brother.

Unusually, the role of ‘happy, friendly cop on the ground’ has here been taken by gravelly grumbler and sometime ear-slicer, Michael Madsen. Long known as one of Hollywood’s laziest actors, Big Mike has been phoning in performances for straight-to-DVD junk such as this for over two decades.

But perhaps his somnambulistic approach to the actor’s craft reached its very apotheosis here, as Madsen literally spends the whole movie yakking to Roberts on a mobile phone. Yet you still get the impression he can’t really be bothered.

There are many bad and lazy actors out there, but perhaps only Madsen could view the task of saying a few words into a pretend phone for a lot of money as an unreasonable ask.

Canadian B-movie beefcake Bryan Genesse

And of course no Die Hard imitation would be complete without an urbane villain to engage our hero in a compelling battle of wits. It appears that the peerless Alan Rickman must have had clashing film-scheduling commitments and been unable to grasp at this career opportunity gold. So instead we have Canadian B-movie beefcake, Bryan Genesse (Cyborg Cop III, Cold Harvest).

Genesse plays a rogue CIA agent whose blackmail plan requires him – at various points in the film – to pretend to be an Arab terrorist called Ahmed. In order to keep the ruse going, big Bryan puzzlingly adopts a French accent whenever speaking as the not-obviously-Gallic extremist. (When you think about it, Le ISIS doesn’t really have a ring to it.) It’s all hopelessly confusing.

Given such a dog’s breakfast of a character and such painful dialogue, most actors might simply shrug their shoulders and console themselves with this thought: “Hey, I didn’t write this.” That’s not so easy for ‘Le Bryan’, however: he penned the script.

Die Hard try hard

For all its Die Hard similarities, The Alternate does have a unique if rather surreal spin on the whole ‘terrorists in a tower block’ trope.

For instance, we’ve yet to see Bruce Willis electrocute a henchman by booby-trapping a cup of coffee, or fight off a female villain wielding – I kid you not – a sharpened lipstick.

These scenes are mere preludes though, for the film’s action coup de grace. This sees Eric Roberts engage Bryan Genesse’s baddie in a machine-gun duel while swinging across a swimming pool on piece of bunting. It may sound terrible – and indeed it is. But console yourself that it’s still not quite as bad as anything in A Good Day To Die Hard (whose reviews contained such high praise as ’crassly opportunistic’, ‘irrevocably stupid’ and ‘like a near-death experience’).

Exploding helicopter action

Part of Genesse’s plan involves faking his getaway, and making the world believe he died in a big explosion. (Yup, there really isn’t a single Die Hard plot device this film doesn’t snaffle for itself.)

In an extraordinarily convoluted sequence, our rogue-CIA-agent-turned-French-Arab-terrorist-impersonator makes an escape by flying off from the roof of the hotel in a helicopter. But wait! As he does so, Genesse jams the controls of the chopper and – unseen from the ground – jumps from the whirlybird back onto the hotel’s roof.

As the aircraft comes into view of the police, one of them pulls out a rocket launcher (apparently standard issue for the LAPD) and fires it at the chopper. Whereupon it crashes to the ground and explodes.

Artistic merit

Horrendous. It looks like the shell of an actual helicopter is dropped on to the road (presumably from a crane). But once it hits the asphalt it disappears in an entirely unconvincing cloud of CGI. Risible.

Exploding helicopter innovation

It’s not often that you see a pilotless helicopter explode. Other examples can be seen in Piranha II: The Spawning and Angels & Demons.

Interesting fact

Ice T has a small role in the film as a secret service agent whose only notable contribution to the film is yell: “Prepare for all surprises, assassination is not in my goddamn vocabulary!” Moments later, inevitably, he is bumped off.

That isn’t the end of the indignity for the rapper-turned-actor. As one of the ‘star’ turns in the film, his name appears on the cover of the DVD above a picture of someone who very clearly isn’t Ice T.

Apparently, whichever jobsworth lazily photo-shopped the cover design used a picture of the only other black man in the cast.

It’s an ugly mistake to be sure, but a perfect metaphor for the film. When you can’t even get the cover details right, what hope is there for the actual movie? So take Exploding Helicopter’s advice. If you’re tempted to watch this movie, try the Alternate instead – and just stick to Die Hard.

Review by: Jafo

Piranhaconda

Watching exploitation flicks can be a joyless affair. By their nature, they tend to be low on budget, originality – and most depressingly, entertainment.

Possibly, the only thing worse than sitting through such hackneyed drivel is writing a review of it for a niche film blog dedicated to an invented micro-genre. (Note: that’s this one, in case you thought Exploding Helicopter was suggesting you click off to somewhere more interesting).

But occasionally, just occasionally, you encounter an exploitation film that remembers the genre is actually meant to be fun. Sometimes, a movie plants its tongue so firmly in cheek, and delivers its genre tropes with such breezy wit, that you leave feeling as if you haven’t been, well, exploited. Friends: I give you Piranhaconda (2012).

The plot

After stealing a nest full of piranhaconda eggs, an Indiana Jones-style scientist-adventurer (Michael Madsen, continuing his downward career spiral with admirable alacrity) is captured by a mysterious gang of criminals.

Big Mike is quickly joined in captivity by a bunch of actors from a nearby films shoot (note: this film is taking place in a curiously populated area of ‘remote’ jungle).

But before the villains can start cutting out old newspaper letters into a ransom demand, the piranhacondas go on a slithery, teeth-gnashing rampage to get their unhatched younglings back. Can our heroes escape the kidnappers’ clutches? Will they evade the murderous reptilian fish? And could someone please explain what the hell a piranhaconda is?

Who the hell’s in this?

In a staggeringly unlikely piece of casting, Michael Madsen plays a professor of herpetology (the study of reptiles and amphibians in case you’re wondering). If that idea isn’t mind-melting enough, his character is called Professor Lovegrove. Hmmm shabba. Slouching through the film with his usual smirking sang-froid, the ear slicing Reservoir Dogs star seems as amused as the audience by his bizarre casting.

Michael Madsen: natural casting as a reptile professor

The only other cast member of note is Rachel Hunter who crops up as a henchwoman in the kidnappers’ gang. The former Mrs Rod Stewart (an unhelpful label given how many identical-looking leggy blondes this tag now applies to) doesn’t appear too interested in the film.

Her limp contribution is mercifully ended early, when she’s mounted by a slithery aberration with a gaping mouth and leathery skin. Probably reminded her of her wedding night.

Why on earth should I watch?

The film-within-a-film subplot provides a surprisingly rich source of gags for the viewer to enjoy. With fully intentional irony, the crew in the jungle are shooting a low-budget slasher called Head Chopper 3. Cue loads of knowing jokes about horror genre conventions and bad acting, which are as much a commentary on the film we’re watching as they one they’re pretending to make.

Admittedly, this sort of meta-critique is hardly new, and has been done better elsewhere: the Scream films, for example. But God – and Exploding Helicopter – loves a trier, and the movie’s game efforts to please are goodwill in the bank.

Why would this be best avoided?

The presence of a decent baddie can be the making of a movie. (See Alan Rickman in Die Hard and Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves.) By the same token, a clunkingly bad one can sink a movie like a stone. (Hello there, Arnold Schwarzenegger as Mr Freeze in Batman and Robin.)

Piranhaconda positively cries out for a bit of moustache-twizzling, panto-villain cruelty from the kidnap gang’s leader. Unfortunately, jobbing actor Michael Swan exudes all the menace of a pedantic parking warden. When you’re being out-menaced by a former supermodel who’s supposed to be in your own gang, it’s probably time to jack in the acting lark.

A piranhaconda snacks on a helicopter

Exploding helicopter action

The key scenes occur at the start of the film shortly after Madsen steals the piranhaconda eggs. He plans to make his getaway in a chopper that’s hovering nearby, but the enraged snake has other, largely homicidal, ideas.

Before Madsen can hop onboard, the piranhaconda rears up and bites the unfortunate vehicle. The pilot loses control, and the damaged chopper spins towards the ground and explodes.

Artistic merit

Good: there’s a decent fireball. Even better, the rotor blades sheer off and hurtle towards the camera adding a touch of extra drama.

Exploding helicopter innovation

Helicopters don’t tend to be bitten very often in films (they’re clearly not very appetising), but there have been other examples – in Godzilla (1997) and Robocroc (2013).

Favourite line

Many films get bogged down with expositionitis – the compulsive need to explain everything to the viewer. Invariably, this involves turgid exchanges between two characters as they expound lengthily on the plot.

There was much reason to fear that Piranhaconda, with its need to explain away its unlikely-sounding titular creature, would fall foul of this trap. Not so. The film deals with the whole matter in three commendably brief sentences.

“It’s like an unholy union between a piranha and an anaconda.”
“You mean a piranhaconda.”
“I can’t believe you just said that.”

Review by: Jafo

The Sender

To crudely paraphrase Kipling: “If you can stay cool when everyone else is losing the plot, then you‘ll be one hell of a man.”

This piece of doggerel came to my mind while watching Michael Madsen in The Sender (1998), in which the slouching star meets a succession of preposterous disasters with a phlegmatic languidness that Kipling himself would have marvelled at.

Madsen plays Dallas Grayson, an army intelligence officer investigating the mysterious death of his father 30 years ago. But, as is so often the case in straight-to-DVD thrillers, his search for answers is about to uncover a far more incredible truth about his family.

Big Mike discovers that his father, an air force pilot, was shot down by aliens who are now in contact with his young daughter. It seems the wee scamp has something called the ‘Sender’ gene, which gives her unworldly powers and the ability to “open gateways to other worlds”.

Unfortunately, a secret Government unit dedicated to hunting extraterrestrials – led by grizzly R Lee Ermey (Full Metal Jacket) – has got wind of all this, and they snatch Madsen’s daughter so they can learn the source of her powers.

Half an hour in, the film – exhausted by such plot detail – simply turns into an extended chase sequence, as Madsen teams up with Angel (the friendly female alien his daughter had befriended) to rescue his wee bairn from the nefarious clutches of the Government.

But how’s Big Mike coping? Facing such a distressing sequence of events, surely even a man possessed of the stiffest of constitutions might find themselves reduced to a jibbering wreck?

Madsen, though, is no ordinary man. Having found out in quick succession that extraterrestrials exist, that they butchered his father, and that his daughter is now some kind of genetic freak who’s been kidnapped by the Government, he adopts the expression of someone just told they’re all out of bacon so he’ll have to have the cheeseburger.

The boy is made of stern stuff. Surprise, shock, anger, fear – emotions which might trouble lesser mortals – are unknown to the man. His only reaction to each increasingly fantastical development is to slightly furrow his brow or, if it’s really bad news, tilt his head.

Indeed, so impassive is Madsen before unfolding events, not even the actual event of his own death can garner an observable reaction.

Yes, you read that right – not even his own death. In one corker of a scene, Madsen is shot dead by R Lee Emry, only to be brought back to life shortly thereafter by Angel. And yet, even after having his life miraculously saved by an alien dressed as a Seventies disco dancer, Big Mike is unable to muster any sign of relief, nor even mild curiosity.

Where lesser men might be hysterically exclaiming: “Who are you?”, “Why aren’t I dead?”, or “Why are you dressed in tin foil and wearing a silver wig?“ Madsen just drolly gazes into the middle distance. Perhaps this sort of thing happens to him all the time.

Given such imperturbable implacability, you begin to wonder what it might take to wring an emotional response from Madsen? Sadly, we never get to find out. Because even when reunited with his supposedly dead father, our Mike still doesn’t bat an eyelid. Instead, he casually suggests to his long-missing dad that they go and get some ice cream. Now that really is cool.

Given this laidback approach to the drama of life, it’s no surprise to find Madsen remains equally nonplussed by a near fatal run-in with a couple of military helicopters.

Having teamed up with Angel, Mike is aboard her spacecraft when they are pursued by two heavily armed choppers. Badly damaged, the spacecraft is unable to return fire, so dodges and weaves amid skyscrapers to evade their pursuers.

Our heroes are in a tight spot – not that you’d know it from the way Madsen lounges around in the spacecraft’s cockpit. Fortunately, the helicopter pilots are two of the dumbest fools ever to have taken to the skies.

Given a clear shot of the spacecraft, one chopper pilot unleashes a volley of machine gunfire, only for the spacecraft to niftily dodge out the way. The bullets hit the other chopper which has obligingly come round the other side and boom! Scratch one helicopter.

The remaining whirlybird continues the pursuit, as Madsen and Angel fly under a bridge. Despite it being clearly observable and entirely avoidable, the pilot – perhaps overwhelmed by the number of safe options he could take to avoid an imminent death – chooses to fly straight into it. Kaboom. End of chase.
Artistic merit 

The sequence is rendered in low budget CGI, so wisely director Richard Pepin doesn’t linger on any of the explosions too long. Unfortunately, as a connoisseur of helicopter explosions, we like to linger over them. Overall, unsatisfying.

Number of exploding helicopters 

Two.

Exploding helicopter innovation 

No great innovation, unless we’re prepared to count idiocy, and the new level of dunderheaded stupidity we witness in this scene. The chopper crash into the bridge heralds a new nadir in failing to avoid the bleeding obvious.

Positives 

Michael Madsen is perhaps the greatest sunglasses actor of all time, rarely, if ever, appearing on-screen without a pair of Ray-Bans.

He takes them off, he puts them on – often several times within the same scene. Yes, it is hard to think how Madsen would function on-screen without this convenient prop.

And with Big Mike generally loathe to actually do any demonstrable ‘acting’, his sunglasses adjustments are about the only evidence that he hasn‘t just fallen asleep with his eyes open.

My favourite sunglasses moment in The Sender though, is one astonishing scene in which Madsen engages in a fist fight on the top of a moving lorry still wearing his Ray-Bans.

Despite taking numerous punches to the head, Mike’s sunglasses remain undamaged and perfectly balanced on his face.

While it may seem a little churlish in a film with aliens, kidnap, miraculous resurrections and reappearances, this was the most unrealistic moment in the entire film.

Negatives 

The former Mrs Cary Grant, Dyan Cannon, appears in the film as Michael Madsen’s double-crossing mother-in-law. Clearly she’s been no stranger to the plastic surgeon’s knife as her face looks like a melted marshmallow.

In an act of kindness, director Richard Pepin never shows her face in close-up. Either that, or he was worried that the close proximity of strong lighting would cause her face to drip completely off her skull.

Favourite quote 

I particularly liked this perplexing line: “All great discoveries are violent - like volcanoes.”

Review by: Jafo

Executive Target

Executive Target is a car crash. Both literally, and figuratively.

Nick James (Michael Madsen) is a disgraced stunt car driver, busted out of jail by a gang of super-criminals who want to kidnap the US President (Roy Scheider).

They want James to drive the getaway car because: “No-one else can do what he can behind a wheel.” That’s right: nobody.

Just in case he doesn’t fancy the job, the super-criminals snatch James’ wife – thus compelling him to take part in the kidnap. First though, the grizzled driver is required to take part in a bank heist. This is meant to be a test of James’ skills before the kidnap gig, but its real function is to provide a car crash set-piece. Another car crash set-piece.

That’s because Executive Target is basically one big car chase. In fact, it would like you to believe it’s the ‘greatest crash movie ever made’, featuring ‘the best car chase since Bullitt’. Bold claims, but not entirely without foundation.

The three, lengthy set-pieces are indeed well staged. Unquestionably, there’s more fast-paced, tyre-screeching, car-flipping, vehicle-exploding action than you could ever hope to witness.

Be in no doubt: watching these scenes, Jeremy Clarkson would be sat splay-legged before his hi-def widescreen and reaching for the Kleenex. (Can I just apologise to all readers here for the irrevocable mental image I may have just conjured there.)

Oh, there’s mayhem a go-go. There’s even a sequence where they pointlessly drive through a market, just so a warehouse full of boxes can be skittled aside. Honestly, it’s all here.

But, before we get excited and pull the throttle right out (again, apologies for that Clarkson allusion), let’s pull into a literary lay-by and talk about Michael Madsen for a moment.

The Madsen’s acting style embodies a lazy casualness that reminds me of Robert Mitchum. It’s in full evidence here as, despite finding himself enmeshed in a huge criminal conspiracy (and with his wife in fatal jeopardy), he displays nothing more demonstrative than a somnambulistic sang-froid.

But despite this laid back style, Madsen does have a great ability to give off a suggestion that he might suddenly do something – even if he then does nothing. And indeed, nothing is what he mostly does in this movie.

There is one really great Madsen moment, however, when he throws a cigarette away just before sharply accelerating his car away from some pursuers. The gesture’s got an effortless cool that you can’t fake.

Anyway, James duly kidnaps the President, but before handing him over to the super-criminals, enlists him to help rescue his wife. The film ends with a good old fashioned shoot-out as James storms the criminal’s underground bunker, backed up by the President’s security team – who show considerably more prowess than they did earlier when ‘protecting’ the President.

Now, I might have made the kidnap of the President sound a touch easy. But, while POTUS’ close protection team prove utterly hapless during the kidnap scene, the President does have a couple of helicopters providing air cover, and they’re much more successful in inflicting casualties on the criminals.

Until, that is, the criminals unveil a heavy machine gun mounted to the back of a pick-up truck. Of course, our two chopper pilots obligingly pooter directly into the gunner’s line of fire and find themselves duly incinerated.



Artistic merit

It’s good to see that, even in a film dedicated to automotive action, director Joseph Merhi includes a couple of aviation explosions amid the car-maggedon. However, perhaps unsurprisingly, it does look as if more effort went into the car smashes than the chopper crashes.

The editor pulls the old trick of suddenly cutting to an image of a full screen explosion which obscures the helicopters – thus nullifying the need to actually explode a helicopter which needs to be returned to its owner.

To try and maintain the illusion of a genuine chopper fireball, they drop the fuselages of a couple of helicopters from just out of shot onto the street – with one landing on top of a car - cueing further explosions.

They may well have got away with such a sleight of hand if the helicopters we see buzzing about in the sky looked anything like those dropped on the car. But that would be an ambitious hope. In car terms, you essentially see a Volvo get blown up and then a Mini hitting the ground.

Number of exploding helicopters

Two.

Exploding helicopter innovation

Sadly, none to report. One can only hope that Merhi will one day set out to make ‘the greatest exploding helicopter movie ever made’.

Positives

When the second helicopter crashes down a policeman needlessly slides across the bonnet of his patrol car to avoid flying debris. It’s totally unnecessary, a very minor detail, but a nice touch nevertheless.

Negatives

As mentioned before, Executive Target makes two grand claims about itself, but only delivers on one.

I won’t quibble with its assertion that it’s the greatest crash movie of all time. Multiple car pile-ups abound, and no red-blooded film fan is going to complain about watching yet another car smash through the side of a lorry – they’re only this flimsy in films.

However, the actual car chases lack the kinetic excitement of, say, The French Connection or Mad Max. Those sequences conveyed danger and speed, whereas here the chase scenes aren’t much above what you might see in an episode of Starsky and Hutch.

Favourite quote

"When I say cherry coke you shoot."

Interesting fact

Michael Madsen has now racked up an impressive 200 screen credits, in a career which can at best be described as, erm, uneven. However, seeing as he’s listed as a producer on this one, he’s only got himself to blame.

Review by: Jafo