Mirror, Mirror 2: Raven Dance (Jimmy Lifton, 1994)

"It's just wood and glass." Oh, movie nuns, why won't you allow there to be any wiggle room when it comes to believing in evil mirrors? Yeah, you heard right, I said "evil mirrors." Which can only mean on thing: The reflective surface that keeps on giving is back and ready to manipulate another attractive, young, socially maladjusted girl in Mirror, Mirror 2: Raven Dance, the unasked for sequel to the mildly campy 1990 flick about an outcast teen and her tumultuous friendship with a sinister piece of furniture. Taking the concept envisioned by Annette Cascone and Gina Cascone (I love it when sisters put aside their hair brush-related differences and team up to create mirror-based horror), writer-director Jimmy Lifton (he also produces and composes the film's music score) grabs the reigns and moves the action to a nunnery on the outskirts of a place where there aren't any nunneries. Unsatisfactory in terms of bloodshed, the second chapter of the glassy saga is missing the underlying menace of the first Mirror Mirror–where I recall many people being killed in a satisfactory manner. On top of that, it just happens to feature one the worst kiddie actors I have ever seen. Seriously, every line he utters was excruciatingly bad. Call me wrongheaded, but I kept wishing that the baneful mirror would straight-up murder his whiny ass every time he appeared on-screen with the seemingly inanimate object.

Of course, I'm not gonna let a couple of little things like awful child acting and a complete lack of mouth-watering gore ruin what is essentially a pretty good psychopathic mirror movie. No way, man, there's got to be something that merits a cockamamie tongue bathing. And I think I may found it floundering amidst the doctor-patient relationship that forms between Marlee (Tracy Wells) and Dr. Lasky (Roddy McDowall).

You see, the doctor is constantly trying to cover his patient's organic sexiness with blankets and sheets. Why he's doing this is a tad convoluted – it's got something to do with Roseyn (Sally Kellerman), her gaudy blazer-wearing stepsister, being left out of a will. But make no mistake, his desire to induce drowsiness is steadfast.

Now, I don't know if I've made this clear or not, but the sense of despair I felt every time Dr. Lasky rendered Marlee unconscious was palpable. I mean, to see her dainty frame repeatedly covered with nondescript nunnery linens was quite disheartening. However, the fact that Marlee would always resist the shady quacks "mild sedatives" was gratifying to say the least.

This defiance was expressed mainly through the majesty of dance, as Marlee seemed to feel most at peace while flailing around in a convulsive marrying of physicality and artistry. Take away her ability to dance, and you're dealing with one unhappy convent resident.

Only problem being that she owes a good-size chunk of her dancefloor prowess to the nondescript mirror languishing menacingly in the corner of her bedroom. A mysterious wild card named Christian (Mark Ruffalo) who shows up every now and then to act suave and give Marlee positive re-enforcement is also responsible for her new-found confidence. Not to sound paranoid, but I think the mirror and Christian might be in cahoots with one another. Either way, there's gonna be some serious consequences when all is said and done.

Everyone, with the exception of Tracy Wells (Mr. Belvedere), seems to talk to themselves in Mirror, Mirror 2: Raven Dance. Sure, I can see why William Sanderson (who was in the first film as a completely different character) talked to himself, as he was an alcoholic pantie sniffer with some intense mental problems. And I can see how Sister Aja (Veronica Cartwright - man, this film's got a pretty solid cast) might chat with herself on occasion, you know, because she's blind and might not realize the person she was talking to has left the room. But as for everyone else, shame on you.

Inheriting the making-out with a bloodstained mirror mantle from the alluring Rainbow Harvest, the resplendent Tracy Wells makes the transition between gamboling to being bedridden with an effortless rarely seen in straight-to-video horror films about malevolent mirrors. Whether searching for her cat (Pie-Whack-It), lying motionless, or pirouetting with spunk, Tracy takes not wearing pants to whole 'nother level of pantlessness.

To be honest, I tried my best not to notice that Miss Wells' lower extremities were never covered. Yet, despite the unscrupulous doctor's blanket-obsessed intentions, the film gave me no choice but to obsess over her stems. I'm not complaining or anything like that, I was just hoping to judge Tracy's performance from a non-leg-centric point-of-view. Which, as far as I could tell, was competent; even by Raven Dance standards.

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Foxes (Adrian Lyne, 1980)

The portrait of Los Angles in the late 1970s as a frivolous wasteland full of inane people petering out their apathetic lives in a smog-fueled daze has been done to death. The wonderfully naturalistic Foxes on the other hand, perfectly captures the palpable energy of the city in a new and entirely unique manner. Depicting it as a place where everyone comes from a broken home and Scott Baio is a sensitive skateboard enthusiast, Adrian Lyne has created a thoughtful coming-of-age story that is rich with amazing cinematography (the sunny, burnout quality of the photography made Hollywood Blvd. look as enticing as ever), a sleek score by Giorgio Moroder (repeatedly complimented by Donna Summer's soothing "On The Radio"), and some of the finest teen acting I've seen in quite some time. Revolving around four friends: Jeanie (Jodie Foster), the responsible one; Annie (Cherie Currie), the rebellious one; Madge (Marilyn Kagan), the reticent one; and Deirdre (Kandice Stroh), the refined one. This girly foursome looks out for one another like most friends do, but they mostly find themselves taking care of the aimless Annie, who has a tendency to wander off on these strange, narcotic-related tangents. This errant behaviour worries the other members of their little idiosyncratic clique, especially Jeanie, who bares most of the burden when comes to Annie and her unpredictable antics. However, it should be said that Annie's not the only with problems, as the stressed out Jeanie, the virginal Madge, and the seductive Deirdre have their own issues to deal with.

Beyond a scene that involves the girls taking care of plastic babies in some sort of home economics class and a couple of hallway moments, the film spends hardly any time at school. Which is kinda appropriate, because neither do the characters. Nope, the majority of the takes place in the unstable homes of the four girls, well, except for Deirdre. But I'm sure her home life was all kinds of kooky. Anyway, the bond these girls share as they engage in sleepovers, attend concerts (Jeanie's dad manages a rock band), and throw dinner parties is the main strength of the film. I also liked how each girl is given own unique personality. Yeah, they probably wouldn't be friends in real life (young people, and people in general tend to hang out with people who are most like themselves). But nonetheless, I appreciated the fact that an attempt was made to flesh out each character (like the fact the Deirdre doesn't know how to shop for groceries).

The acting in Foxes was superb across the board. Sure, there were a couple of dodgy moments involving Sally Kellerman as Jeanie's flaky mom that gave me pause. But on the whole, I found the cast to be topnotch in terms of raw emotion and unaffected pathos. She may have been only a teenager at the time, but Jodie Foster displays a real maturity as Jeanie. The fact she plays the most reliable person in the entire might have illuminated this trait more substantially. However there's no denying that Jodie gives an impressive performance. Her best scenes, funny enough, are when she's with Scott Baio, who, I must say, does a great job of listening to Jodie as she waxes semi-poetically about her nerve-wracking existence.

The bespectacled and slightly awkward Marilyn Kagan somehow managed to turn the dorky Madge into my favourite fox. Which is not the easiest thing to accomplish when you consider that Miss Foster and the charismatic Cherie Currie are constantly wandering around in the background. The whiny, teen-based turmoil surrounding Madge's relationship with her insufferable mother are what drew me to the character in the first place. There's real pain there and Kagan draws it out in a genuine manner.

Lithesome and sporting the blankest of expressions, Cherie Currie gives a hypnotic performance as the troubled Annie. You can totally see why everyone, including Jodie's character, is drawn to her. She has a magnetic quality about her that just sort of messes with you, and it's not a looks thing, either, as I didn't really find her to be that appealing, you know, physically (Kandice Stroh's Deirdre is the babe of the picture). No, there was something strangely alluring about Miss Currie as Annie. I can't quite put my finger on it, but she exudes a special type of allure that not everyone possesses.

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