Hologram Man (Richard Pepin, 1995)

I don't mean to start off on a somber note, but what I'd like to know is: Who, if anyone, is going to bury all the henchmen and cops that are killed throughout this action-heavy sci-fi action movie? Since, the film, Hologram Man, is supposed to take place in the future, I guess they could have developed some kind of newfangled way to dispose of dead bodies (corporeal vaporization perhaps?). But still, the sheer number of henchmen and cops who fall to the ground as a direct result of gunfire in this Richard Pepin-directed masterpiece is ridiculous. Unless the henchmen and cops who buy it were grown in some kind of lab, I'm going to go ahead and assume they all have families. And if that's the case, I think it's safe to assume that the members of these so-called "families" aren't going to be too pleased when they find out their loved ones (whether they be dastardly henchmen or deluded cops) were killed by holograms with amazing hair. Okay, maybe calling the hair on the head of the one responsible for killing the cops "amazing" might be pushing it (though, fans of the KoЯn look may beg to differ). Nevertheless, I think it's safe to say that the dreamy-looking fella who kills henchmen like it were a bodily function has the best hair ever.

(You never really explained why the families of the dead henchmen would be upset when they found out the man who killed their loved ones has amazing hair.)

And I never will. Just kidding. The reason is simple. They all had this idea in their heads that their loved ones were slaughtered by a cruel, inhuman monster. Which, granted, is annoying, but understandable (it's what cruel, inhuman monsters do). However, the second they find out their loved one was done in by someone so exceedingly hunky, they're going to be quite angry. In fact, I'd go as far as to say their anger was tinged with a hint of jealously. Anger, for obvious reasons. As for jealously. Think about it. Who wouldn't want to gunned down by a man with long, flowing locks? I know I would, and I'm not even that big a fan of being gunned down.

In my own convoluted way, what I think trying to say is: A lot of people are killed in this movie (most of which are shot to death, but some are blown up... blown up real good), and that Joe Lara has great hair.

While I am somewhat jealous of Joe Lara's hair (it's so silky and manageable), I was actually more jealous of Evan Lurie. No, not because of his hair (to be honest, I found his KoЯn-do to be revolting). The reason I was jealous is because his henchmen are played by Nicholas Worth (Don't Answer the Phone), Tommy "Tiny" Lister and William Sanderson!!!

(Don't forget Cole S. McKay as "Thug with Flame Thrower.") Fuck yeah, that guy ruled.

If that wasn't enough, he engages in multiple position sexual intercourse with his blonde lady friend in the film's second scene. At first I was like: Why does Evan Lurie get an epic sex scene and Joe Lara only gets a pre-coitus fade out? It's simple, really. Evan Lurie wrote the screenplay. Meaning, Evan Lurie gets an extended sex scene. If Joe Lara wants an extended sex scene in a movie, he should write a screenplay.

Anyway, before we're subjected to this so-called "sex scene" (I almost threw up when Evan Lurie does a mid-thrust hair flip while plowing into his lady friend's futuristic vagina with his futuristic penis), we get a taste of what to expect from this movie in terms of entertainment value.

Opening with an intense shoot-out between–you guessed it–a heavily-armed gang of henchmen and an outgunned collection of cops, the film makes it clear early on that a lot of people are going to get killed in this movie. Though, I have to say, the henchmen and the cops are mostly to blame for the excessive body count. No, not because they're the one's shooting at each other, but because they don't seem to know how to use cover. I mean, standing out in the open in firing your weapon aimlessly is a surefire way to get yourself killed. I tried yelling: Use the parked cars as cover!!! But I guess they couldn't hear me.

(I'm not surprised, with all that gunfire, and the fact that it's only a movie.)

In the end, the cops, lead by Wes Strickland (John Amos), a veteran cop who doesn't play by the rules, are the one's who come out on top during this particular shoot out. And while he appreciates the fact that it was his partner's non-rule playing ways that lead them to narrowly defeat the henchmen, Decoda (Joe Lara), a regulation following rookie cop, is conflicted by his unorthodox methods.

When a plot to assassinate the governor is uncovered, Wes and Decoda are put in charge of protecting him. Using his loyal sidekick One-Eye (Nicholas Worth) as a diversionary tactic, super-villain Slash Gallagher (Evan Lurie) rams the governor's motorcade with a stolen bus. As expected, a shoot out ensues, followed by a car chase. Both of these events lead to the death of the governor and Wes Strickland, and the capture of Slash Gallagher.

Instead of being put in a normal prison, Slash Gallagher is placed in holographic stasis. You see, in the future, prisons as you and I know them are obsolete.

We flash-forward five years to find Decoda somewhat stressed. You might think, what's this guy got to be stressed about? I mean, he's still got great hair, he's got a reasonably attractive lady scientist lady friend. In other words, what's the deal?

Haven't you heard? Slash Gallagher is up for parole today. I know, you're thinking: There's no way they're going to grant him parole... he killed the governor, and, not to mention, a non-rule playing cop. That's true, there's zero chance Judge James Daughton (The Beach Girls and Malibu Beach) would allow this to happen. However, while Slash has been in holographic stasis, his loyal henchmen, including the aforementioned One-Eye, computer expert Giggles (William Sanderson), Eightball (Tommy 'Tiny' Lister) and Thug with Flame Thrower (Cole S. McKay), have been hard at work trying to free him. And they see Slash's parole hearing as the perfect opportunity to spring him.

How do you free someone whose been separated from their physical body? I got one word for you: Cyberspace. Downloading Slash's holographic essence, his henchmen manage to free him during his parole hearing, much to the chagrin of Decoda and his new partner, Carradine (Anneliza Scott), a blue jean-wearing lady cop.

The coolest thing about Decoda's quest to recapture his nemesis is that the system he works for is just as corrupt and malevolent. Caught between the sheer villainy of Slash Gallagher and the fascist California Corporation, or "Cal Corp, " (a domed section of Los Angeles run by a ruthless Michael Nouri), Decoda must struggle to come to terms with the fact that both entities are evil.

When you hear Decoda's simplistic solution to this quandary in the film's final scene, you'll probably think to yourself: That might just work. That being said, a lot people are going to have to be shot and killed for it to do so. Seriously, if you piled the dead on top of each other, you could probably reach the top of the tallest building in Dayton, Ohio; which, at 124 meters, is pretty freaking tall.

Nightmares (Joseph Sargent, 1983)

My misguided attempt to watch everything in the cinematic oeuvre of Moon Unit Zappa continues abated with her brief yet integral appearance in the horror anthology, Nightmares, a film that includes four unrelated stories slapped together in a semi-haphazard, semi-entertaining manner. And they include, "Terror in Topanga," the tale of Topanga Lawrence (Danielle Fishel), a shapely teen whose virginal vagina becomes haunted by the ghost of a recently deceased serial killer named Bojangles McGillicutty (voiced by actor/game show show Bert Convy), "Bishop of Battle," a frightening...Hold up, you're not going to do a fake synopsis for all four segments, are you? Why wouldn't I? And besides, what do you mean, "fake"? That's totally what "Terror in Topanga" is about. No, I get it, "Topanga" is the name of Danielle Fishel's beloved character from the '90s classic, Boy Meets World, and when you saw the words "...in Topanga" flash on the screen, you immediately thought of Topanga's not-taciturn vagina. Don't be ashamed, I'm sure most people you're age probably thought of that too. The only problem with your joke is Danielle Fishel was only around two years-old when this film was shot. In other words, your joke has gone from being mildly creepy, to extremely creepy in the blink of an eye. I see? Okay, say Danielle Fishel was 18, don't you think a movie about a poltergeist living inside her pussy–don't you mean, pulsating pussy? fine, inside her pulsating pussy–would be a lot more compelling than one about Cristina Raines (The Sentinel) going out after 11pm to buy cigarettes? That's not the point, you should always try to review the movie that's on the screen, not the one that's inside your head. Either way, don't sell Cristina Raines late night cigarette run short.

Don't tell me, Cristina gets abducted by aliens. Not quite, but there's a deranged mental patient on the loose and she's low on gas. Is that it? I'm afraid so. Oh, I just remembered, the guy who plays the store clerk is played Anthony James (The Teacher); one of my favourite actors. Shouldn't he be playing the deranged mental patient? Technically, yes, he probably should. But the first chapter of Nightmares is filled with little twists like that. Speaking of which, another twist just came to mind.

Keep an eye on the grainy picture of the deranged mental patient that appears on the news, as he looks eerily similar to a character who shows up during this chapter's cryptic climax.

Anyway, to say that I was unimpressed with "Terror in Topanga" would be one of them understatement thingies. However, things pick up when "Bishop of Battle" gets underway. I won't lie, this chapter is the reason I watched Nightmares in the first place. And, yes, I realize it's the video age, and that I could have easily just watched this chapter and skipped the rest. But I wanted to experience the film the way director Joseph Sargent and producer/screenwriter Christopher Crowe (he wrote chapters 1-3) originally had intended. Sure you did.

It's true, I haven't checked out what the general consensus is regarding "Bishop of Battle," but I can safely say that the sight of a video game addicted Emilio Estevez hustling Chicano gang members while listening to Fear on his Walkman is pretty badass.

Getting off the bus (to "I Don't Care About You" by Fear), J.J. Cooney (Emilio Estevez) and Zock (Billy Jayne) are in Hollywood to make some quick cash. No, they're not prostitutes, they hustle unsuspecting rubes using J.J.'s talent for playing video games and Zock's talent for, well, playing the concerned friend.

Noticing a Chicano (complete with a plaid shirt, tan trousers and a hair net) playing Pleiades, J.J. approaches him and challenges to a game using his best "aw-shucks, I'm not from around here" voice. The stakes are only for a dollar, but they soon rise, as J.J. purposefully digs himself into a hole. When the Chicano posts a score of 17010, his friends let out a cheer. With the stakes at twenty-five dollars, J.J. decides to stop messing around. You know what that means, right? You got it, it's time "Let's Have a War" by Fear to blast on the punk rock heavy soundtrack.

Isn't "Let's Have a War" by Fear also on the Repo Man soundtrack? Yes it is. You do realize that Nightmares and Repo Man both star Emilio Estevez? Oh, you do. Okay, just checking.

While I've got your attention, did anyone else laugh when J.J. tells Zock that he needs to "beat the bishop"? Last time I checked, it's a slang term for masturbation. After barely getting out of Hollywood in one piece, J.J. is back on his home turf in The Valley, or more specifically, the Fox Hills Mall (which is an actual mall in Culver City).

Apparently when J.J. was talking about beating the bishop, he wasn't talking about his erect penis, he was talking about, you guessed it, the Bishop of Battle, a video game he's been trying to beat for some time now. Entering the mall's Game-O-Rama arcade with an overconfident swagger, J.J. is mobbed by his many admirers (fellow gamers who worship his gaming skills). When one of these so-called admirers yells out, "Hey, it's J.J.!" you'll notice that the alluring vision of loveliness (a short-haired goddess in a purple jacket), playing Starhawk turns her head with a rapid brand of neck turning efficiency.

It might not be obvious to the casual observer, but we're about to experience the majestic splendour that is the one and only Moon Unit Zappa.

Positioning himself in front of the Bishop of Battle game, which is located in the centre of the arcade, J.J. puts in his quarter and prepares to play. "Greetings, Earthling. I am the Bishop of Battle, master of all I survey. I have 13 progressively harder levels. Try me if you dare," says the animated floating head that represents the Bishop of Battle. Well, does he dare? Of course he does. There wouldn't be a movie if he didn't. And besides, he already put in his quarter.

Able to reach level 12 with a relative ease, J.J. can't seem to make it to level 13. This, as you would expect, frustrates J.J. to the point of madness.

The game itself is actually quite lame as far as early '80s video games go (the graphics are beyond crude), so I won't bother describing the game action. However, the look on Moon Unit Zappa's face as she watched J.J. play Bishop of Battle was anything but, as you can tell exactly how J.J. was doing, game-wise, just by watching her animated expressions.

After failing yet again to make it to level 13, J.J. has grown visibly angry. And not only that, he appears to have lost his mind. Yeah, the game seems to have consumed him. Yeah, the game has taken over his life, but I was referring to the way he treats Moon Unit Zappa, who's the only one left in the arcade (everyone else has since gone home).

Wait, he doesn't blow off Moon Unit Zappa, does he? He totally does. What an idiot. Did he not hear Moon Unit Zappa when she says: "C'mon, J.J. Let's get a pizza and talk like we used to"? It doesn't look like it. How could he not hear her? She put the emphasis on the "za" when saying "peets-zah." Oh, he heard her all right. It's just he's more interested in getting to level 13 of this stupid game than getting to second base with Moon Unit Zappa.

To be honest, I don't know exactly what getting to "second base" entails (I was raised by British people), but I sure hope it involves groping her unit. Get it, unit, her name is Moon Unit? Never mind. Anyone who makes Moon Unit Zappa sad is not cool in my book. I don't care if he likes punk rock, you don't mess around with Moon Unit Zappa's heart like that. No one ignores Moon Unit Zappa's tubular invite to get peets-zah. At least not on my watch.

I don't mean to be the bearer of bad news, but there are still two chapters left in this anthology. And it looks like you have used up your allotment of paragraphs for this review. I have an allotment of paragraphs?!? Well, not really. But you should really start to think about wrapping things up. Okay, chapter three, "The Benediction," stars Lance Henriksen as a priest who is having a "crisis of faith." After quitting the church, Lance, or, I should say, his stuntman, is repeatedly confronted by a mysterious black truck along a stretch of desert road. Think of it as Duel but nowhere near as awesome. Chapter four, "Night of the Rat," involves a suburban family, played by Veronica Cartwright, Richard Masur, and Bridgette Anderson (don't forget their cat Rosie) who are menaced by a giant rat.

Other than the sight of Veronica Cartwright (Mirror Mirror 2: Raven Dance) in a tight sweater and a couple of decent jump scares, I wasn't that impressed with this chapter. I did like how they filmed Veronica Cartwright in that aforementioned sweater from every angle imaginable.

My favourite, of course, being the view from the back, as it highlighted her domestic prowess; open those kitchen cabinets, you sexy, excellent at not being detected by pod people, minx.