Auteur/Perpetrator: Beau Davis
Star of Shame: Brandon Lee, Ernest Borgnine
Monster(s): Everyone associated with making this
“Plot”: Lunkheaded mercenary must rescue laser scientist from Russian Germans who have kidnapped him and taken him to an Arabic-Latin American-Portuguese country in Africa
By Richard Romano
Say you had a computer system into which you could feed all the elements of every successful action-adventure-espionage movie and, through special software algorithms, have it automatically write the action flick to end all action flicks. This is no doubt the dream of every Hollywood studio executive, but my theory is that 1989’s Laser Mission was actually written by such a computer system. Unfortunately, it was written using the beta version of the software. Well, okay, not even the beta version. More like the alpha version. I take that back. Pre-alpha. So pre-alpha it has reverted back to the omega version.
Anyway, the movie is a non-stop stream of every bad action movie cliché, stuck together with a super-adhesive glue of sheer stupidity. The “hero” is laughably immortal (yes, he’s played by Brandon Lee, so one treads carefully with these kinds of remarks) in that he can single-handedly take on an entire platoon of soldiers, have someone fire point blank at him a dozen times and miss every time, get shot through the kidneys, bleed massively, and still run around and defeat the bad guys without even a limp or stagger. Yes, this is a common trope even in good action movies, but it’s taken to laughable extremes here. And it seems to be further evidence that testosterone ought to be a highly controlled substance.
The “hero” has a quintessentially macho name (“Mike Gold”), and tries to crack James Bondian one-liners that are not even remotely funny, or even coherent. The bad guys are really bad (one even has a severed head collection—how I wish I were making that up) but also woefully inept. There are two “comic relief” characters who, as you would expect in this kind of movie, make you want to chew your own head off and donate it to the bad guy’s collection every time they are on screen. (A sneak preview: one dim-witted “soldier” didn’t know that his comrade in arms of several years was actually a woman. You know, it’s even more awful than it sounds.)
Laser Mission was made in the late 1980s and the soundtrack is a pastiche of your typical 80s hard rock—crunchy guitars, drum machines, waves of power-synth—with an endlessly repeated theme song (“Mercenary Man”). If it sounds kind of like bad Dire Straits (actually it sounds like Loverboy trying to cover Dire Straits), it could be because the soundtrack was written and performed by David Knopfler, brother of Mark, and who was actually in Dire Straits for a short time (he played rhythm guitar on the first two Dire Straits records, including “Sultans of Swing”). I’m sure David had a better solo career than this soundtrack would indicate.
The good thing about Laser Mission is that is extremely easy to mis-treat. It is so laughably awful that all I really have to do is describe what is happening and not even try to make jokes.
And we open with someone putting gloves and a kevlar vest on. That’s actually not a bad idea. This movie is actually best watched while wearing a hazmat suit. The letters of the title zap in as if shot from a laser. This is kind of what I imagine Lasik eye surgery to be like. Actually, I think I’d rather be getting Lasik eye surgery than watching this movie. L-A-S-E-R...this does go on rather a while. I do hope they don’t do all the titles like this.
That done, we intercut to a lot of gunplay that doesn’t involve lasers. Someone missed a memo, I guess. The glove-and-vest-wearing, gun-toting people also sport gas masks. This must be the wrap party.
Starring Brandon Lee, Debi Monahan, and Ernest Borgnine. Now is that a holy trinity or what?
The pounding title song perks up. “In the violence of the night,” rasps David Knopfler. Yep, night terrors. I know the feeling. “When you hear the silent scream.” What? “He only knows where he is going to.” Well, he refuses to stop and ask for directions, so that’s probably a good thing. “It’s like a dream within a dream.” Remember when David Bowie tried William Burroughs’ “cut-up” technique for his lyrics, where you write lines, cut them into pieces, then randomly put the pieces back together? That’s kind of like this song, only Bowie doesn’t make me want to shoot myself with a high-powered laser. Although William Burroughs does.
What else do we know about what I guess is going to be our hero? As the song says, “His heart beats like a hammer/Like the backbeat of a song.” So...he needs to see a cardiologist? Ultimately, he’s a mercenary man. Mercenary man. Mercenary man. Mercenary man. Merc— All right, we get the idea!
As the titles draw to a close, let’s see if my theory is true. Screenplay by...the ActionScript 0.5 Screenwriting System? No, I’m wrong: Phillip Gutteridge. With an emphasis on “gutter.” Story by David A. Frank. Two people were responsible for “writing” this? Directed by Beau Davis. “Beau”? Surely you geste.
As the song fades out, we go to a party...someplace. A woman introduces the master of ceremonies, Ronald Featherby. Wanna bet he’s British? And, yes, he is. “Tonight is truly a marvelous occasion...” he says. He is dapper in his tuxedo. So what’s the occasion? “...for we, a select, privileged few, to witness the unveiling of the most precious, and the largest...“ Spaghetti squash? Muskmelon? Pumpkin? Jujyfruit? “...diamond to come from the continent of Africa.” Dang.
We cut to the gloved-vested-masked-armed folks from the titles running down a flight of metal stairs. Gee, I can’t imagine what’s going to happen. Mr. Featherby there had better talk quickly because I suspect his diamond’s about to get nicked.
“Larger than the Hope,” he continues, “more spectacular than the Kello.” The what? But not as gaudy as the Neil, or as raspy as the Selma. “Measured at 526 carrots.” What? Oh, carats. That’s pretty big. Make that into an earring and someone had better have a strong earlobe. Everyone lets out an impressed whistle. Oh, come on.
And for such a fancy-schmancy event, everyone is certainly dressed pretty casually. The men aren’t even wearing jackets, and the women look like they’re the steno pool on lunch break.
“It is a great pleasure to present to you the Verbic Diamond.” Speech! Oh, right, it’s an inanimate object. But everyone applauds it anyway. Is it the Verbic Diamond or is it verbic zirconium? “And now, what better way to mark this festive occasion...” Than to mark this festive occasion? No! “...than to salute it with a bottle of champagne.” Really?
And at that point, a bottle of champagne explodes, everyone screams, and black smoke billows out of the highly decorative, ornamental galvanized aluminum bucket the champagne was chilling in. Not exactly a high society event, was it? After it’s over, I bet Featherby there was just going to chuck the diamond into his glove compartment.
Everyone is quickly overcome by the black smoke. I guess it pays to spring for expensive champagne. See what happens when you buy the cheap stuff? The gloved-vested-masked-armed folks come in. Even though everyone is unconscious, one of them fires his gun anyway. Guess it’s a Freudian thing. They stroll off with the diamond. That was pretty easy. I don’t know, maybe the party planners should have sprung for some kind of security. Maybe? I mean, this unveiling of this supervaluable diamond looked pretty much like an impromptu office party. “We’ve got this marvelous, historically priceless gem, but, more importantly, it’s Kelli’s birthday today.”
We abruptly cut to a plane landing...somewhere. Passengers disembark to what is either the control tower or a hotel. It’s rather hard to tell. “Welcome to the Control Tower Hotel. Every room has a glorious view of the runway, and complimentary in-room radar.”
We have no idea where this, but it seems vaguely tropical. A sign on a door reads “Chegadas.” Okay, that’s “arrivals” in Portuguese. So... Portugal? Or maybe South America somewhere?
As the theme song kicks back in (“In the violence of the night...”) our “hero”—nerdily appointed in large round 1980s glasses—walks up to the Customs counter. Does going through customs warrant a reprise of the theme song? He opens his locked, highly impenetrable Halliburton attaché case—ooh, is it filled with supercool, secret agent weapons and gizmos and gadgets? No, it’s a trade magazine for the oil industry and Dale Carnegie’s How to Win Friends and Influence People. Huh. Well, you certainly wouldn’t want those falling into the wrong hands.
He chucks his passport on the counter. There is a bit of an awkward moment. I don’t quite know why. “Michael Gold,” the customs guy reads. Come on, I bet it’s really Mickey Goldberg. “Are you here for pleasure or business?” “A little bit of both, you might say.” Waka waka. “What kind of business do you do?” the customs guy asks. “People management and conduct behavior modification.” Great. Human resources. Don’t let him in the country! Gold whips off his glasses for effect. Or something. “That sounds very interesting and dangerous work.” It does? Yeah, those 401(k) forms can be a nightmare. “Let me put it this way, I’ll always have a job.” Hah! “Trouble is, are you always able to do the job?” retorts the customs guy. What? Are they having different conversations? Is it a translation problem?
Gold packs up and adds, “You wouldn’t happen to know where I could get a good Cuban cigar, would you?” “You Americans with your sense of humor. It kills me,” says the other customs guy. It does? Was that humor? Then again, perhaps if we knew what country we were in, it might be vaguely amusing. As it is, it’s just awkward.
Gold walks out. I wonder if the customs agents were suspicious by the fact that during that exchange, the soundtrack kept singing “mercenary man” over and over again. Is customs authorized to search one’s personal soundtrack?
Cut to a dock. David Knopfler sings, “The fire’s still burning/Turning wheels within wheels.” So it is a dream within a dream or a wheel within a wheel? Or is just some random things inside other random things, although those latter random things would obviously need to be larger than the other random things, otherwise those random things wouldn’t be able to fit inside those other random things.
Hey, that makes more sense than this movie.
Anyway, Gold jumps down under the dock and wanders over to a park bench upon which Ernest Borgnine is sitting, staring at the sea. Actually, an earlier version of this scene was filmed as an homage to Blake Edwards’ 10, with Brandon Lee as the Dudley Moore character and Ernest Borgnine as Bo Derek.
Hey, that’s actually a less upsetting thought than this movie.
How much time is left in this thing? 1:18:45. Oy.
Gold says, “May I sit next to you, Mr. Braun?” Can I sit next to you girl? Braun, in a bad German accent, starts babbling, then stops and does a double-take. “Who are you? And how do you know me?” Gold introduces himself. “I represent a group of concerned citizens in the United States.” Curiously, it’s MADD. Braun looks at him. “Oh.” And that ends that. Okay, then.
“You’re fond of birds,” says Gold. Braun starts babbling, then stops and does a double-take. Would you cut that out! “What a strange approach,” Braun says. Okay, so what in the name of all that’s holy is going on here?
“We want to help you,” says Gold. “The Americans you mean,” says Braun, “and how much are they willing to pay?” “You want money?” “Americans always seem to think that people want money.” “There are other things,” says Gold. Sure, Snack Wells, porkpie hats, Hummel figurines. The sky’s the limit. “Such as?” Braun asks. “Freedom.” But freedom isn’t free...or something. Think about it, won’t you? Thank you.
I swear, there has yet to be a coherent conversation in this movie. Is everyone talking in code? I think the ActionScript 0.5 screenwriting system has some bugs.
Braun chuckles over the idea of freedom. “Your people will keep me locked up for years. And while they pick my brains, the Star War program grows.” “Star War program? It’s a good thing it’s just the one war. Braun adds, “And I will make my contribution to destroy mankind.” We all have to do our part. “You have special talents and abilities, sir,” says Gold. Yes, but does being able to play the tuba with his navel really help foster American interests overseas?
“Your research can’t fall into the wrong hands.” “It will not,” says Braun. “It will be all here.” He points to his...head. Whew!
“Exactly,” says Gold, “and we want to keep it there.” So...why are you there again? “Are you acquainted with theoretical physics?” “No,” says Gold proudly, “I specialized in recess and girls.” Ah. It’s always good to flaunt one’s lack of education. Says Braun, “I want to stop dreaming about fire from heaven and melting men.” Well, stop eating those pizzas before bedtime. “Lasers,” says Braun, and a volley of electronic drumbeats goes off on the soundtrack. Today’s secret word is “lasers.” Does he win $100? Up on the dock, watching them, is a trio of presumably bad guys.
“In America,” Gold is continuing, “you could write your own ticket.” Sure, it’s a speeding ticket, but still. Braun starts chuckling. “Then I think we can talk.” I wonder if he’s in ernest?
One of the bad guys—Eckerd—fires a tranquilizer dart into Gold’s neck. I didn’t even know they sold those in Eckerds. He goes down. Yes! Braun leaps up, flummoxed. “I expect your cooperation, professor,” says Eckerd, and shoots Braun in the stomach with a dart. That will certainly ensure it. Eckerd must take a lot of notes, since he has a ton of pens in his breast pockets. Oh, they’re bullets. My mistake. It’s a good thing I don’t hunt. It could get rather awkward.
Gold wakes up in a jail cell...somewhere. We still have no idea what country this is supposed to be. All we know is that airport signage is in Portuguese and it’s near the ocean. Sounds like Where in the World is Carmen Sandiego.
A high-ranking military officer saunters in. “So sorry to vake you like this, Mr. Gold.” Vake? Ah, so this coastal Portuguese-speaking city has a German military. Okay. He says, “The People’s Court has found you guilt of crimes against [something unintelligible].” The People’s Court? Wapner was always a hanging judge, wasn’t he? “I don’t remember a trial,” says Gold. Yeah, but eyewitness recollections are always faulty anyway. The charges? “Treason, espionage, the death penalty.” He’s being charged with the death penalty? Oh, he’s been given the death penalty. And outside, he looks at some guys sharpening a guillotine. A guillotine? But that’s French! “Execution is at dawn tomorrow.” So early? “Unless...” Unless what? “Unless what?” asks Gold. The officer reconsiders. “You’re not the type. Forget I mentioned it.” I really don’t want to know.
“What’s the offer?” Gold demands. “Television, and Life appearance,” says the colonel. Does the colonel have a name? What? Oh, live appearance....Live appearance? “Tell the world you’re a spy, working for America.” And that would be bad for him...how again? “I don’t work for America,” says Gold. “I work for money.” Yes, a big stack of $100 bills sits behind an oak desk in an office in midtown Manhattan, barking out orders. It’s a tense office environment. Anyway, everyone seems to find that rather amusing. “In a socialist state,” laughs the military guy.
Aha! Another clue as to where they are: it’s a socialist state, on the ocean, that speaks Portuguese, run by German military officers that use French execution methods. Okay... I’d better get Wolfram Alpha going on this one.
Gold looks out the window where the guillotine is being used to slice melons in half. “A present from the King of Belgium. 1907.” That’s an odd gift. But then those melons won’t slice themselves. “The blade needs sharpening,” says Gold. Zing!
They mutter some unintelligible things back and forth, then Gold asks, “What did you do to the professor?” And Mary Ann? “You should only be concerned about tomorrow morning.” Why, what’s tomorrow morn— Oh, right. That. And he leaves.
The guard has a good laugh. “Ha ha! They’re going to cut off your head mañana.” Aha! So they write in Portuguese but speak in Spanish. Or, that is, interject random words in Spanish.
As Gold is watching some workmen clean the guillotine, another moustachioed guard rattles the bars of Gold’s cell. “Unclean! Unclean!” he chants. What? Oh, “Aqui! Aqui!” The guard starts to open the door, and Gold takes that opportunity to kick the door back, catching the guard off-guard, and he falls back out into the hall. Gold beats the crap out of him as he screams, and grabs his gun and knife. Another guard only a few feet away has a clear shot at Gold, but misses twice. He even lets Gold run up to him without firing a shot. Then another prisoner reaches his arms through the door and strangles the guard, who screams.
Another guard charges in, screams, but Gold manages to throw a knife at him before he can squeeze off a shot. Gold walks down the hall and comes to the armory. The armory? Is it a good idea to keep the armory down the hall from the jail cells? That just seems to be asking for trouble. A guard walks out of the armory. Gold is three feet away, walking directly toward him. He looks directly at Gold but does not see him. Gold must be wearing that scramble suit from Philip K. Dick’s A Scanner Darkly. More like A Scanner Dorkly. Gold then takes that opportunity to smash him in the face with the butt of a rifle. The guard screams, and collapses to the floor. There is bizarre cutaway to the other guard being strangled by the prisoner through the bars of the door. Yes, he screams. Rather volubly, too.
What’s with all the screaming?
Gold walks into the armory and comes out with a slightly bigger gun. This is where things get laughably Rambo-esque. Naturally, Gold has no problem blasting his way out, even though he is vastly outnumbered by trained, professional military personnel. Well, military personnel, anyway. And wimpy military personnel; when Gold comes upon a group of three soldiers, two of them run away...screaming. Was it really a good idea for that country to have recruited its entire army from conscientious objectors?
It’s funny how armed soldiers run directly toward Gold without firing, as if they are just waiting to get shot themselves. This goes on for a while, rather tediously. Even when Gold runs out of ammunition, the soldiers run at him and try to knock him over rather than shoot him. Does this make any sense? Can we get a new director?
Now things get really dumb. The end of this fight scene takes place on the base of the guillotine. A soldier runs at an unarmed Gold, who manages to knock the soldier down, and he—of course—falls (screaming, natch) so that his neck is right under the blade of the guillotine. Oh, brother. Gold kicks the lever...
How much time is left in this thing? 1:11:46. Ugh.
Cut to the American Embassy. “A complete and total failure!” Yes, that’s the best way to describe the ActionScript 0.5 Screenwiting System. Oh, actually, Gold is being chewed out. “You lost Braun...What didn’t you do wrong?” Well, he single-handedly defeated an army of Helen Kellers. “I didn’t get killed.” No, he asked what didn’t you do wrong?
Now we get some idea of what he heck is going on. Gold was hired by these guys—one of whom is G. Gordon Liddy, by the looks of it; he is given no name—to track down Braun and ask him his price to defect. Gold says he did his job and just wants to be paid. “Kiss my ass,” says the ambassador. Ah, it’s hard to find witty, Noel Coward-esque dialogue like this. But, say what you will about mild, clichéd profanity, it hit a nerve. Gold leaps to his feet and starts shouting. “You didn’t tell me who he was or why he was so important! You people blew this operation from the start.” No, I think you pretty much blew it.
G. Gordon Liddy explains, “Braun is perhaps the world’s leading expert in laser weaponry, and his presence in Kobango means the Soviet bloc is planning some sort of laser mission.” Kobango? Is that where they are? It’s a kind of Mission: Impossible country. And, wait: it’s 1989. There really isn’t much of a Soviet bloc anymore. “That could tip the balance of power on the whole African continent.” Aha, so they’re in Africa. So...the Soviets are going to capture a laser scientist so they can take over Africa? Really? Gold wonders why they never told him any of this. Probably because it sounded too dumb.
“Because you’re a freelancer. Freelancers have a nasty habit of changing sides.” And don’t even get him started on 1099 forms. So, then, why do they hire them? Don’t they have full-time loyal spies? Or at least someone who could have a conversation with Ernest Borgnine? It’s not exactly the Pueblo incident they’re planning.
Gold protests his loyalty. “For all we know, you’ve already shopped Braun to the highest bidder,” says G. Gordon Liddy. I repeat my question. “That didn’t happen,” says Gold. “Prove it.” Uh...how? “Bring him back.” Gold demurs. “Are you insane?” Well, they hired you, so do the math. “I’m a wanted man in Kobango. They want to cut my head off.” Well, who doesn’t, really? Gold then asks the really important question. “If I get him back, what’s in it for me? I want more than a boost in my CIA credit rating.” Our hero! Wait: CIA credit rating? Does that mean he won’t be able to get a loan from...the CIA?
What are they willing to give him? “One million dollars.” This is turning into Austin Powers. Assuming it wasn’t already. Gold admits that he liked Braun. Well, it’s Ernest Borgnine, so how can you not? But G. Gordon Liddy says he has to be under U.S. control or dead. “And I’d like to sleep nights without worrying about some terrorist groups shooting airliners out of the sky with lasers.” He has a point. Remember how he used to worry about having his hair shot off by terrorists with access to laser hair removal equipment? And now look at him. “I’m telling you, I want Braun on a plane to Washington or I want him on a slab.” What about a slab on its way to Washington?
Gold says he’ll do it, but not for the money. “The old man wanted to go to America. And I gave him my word.” No, you didn’t. I can rewind and prove it. He gets in the ambassador’s face. “You’re just a government flunky, Carroway.” And you embed yourself in rye bread.
G. Gordon Liddy concurs. “Fair enough. Contact his daughter, Alissa. She’s a doctor of veterinary medicine. She’s in Kawana.” Is that another non-existent, but real-sounding country nearby? “And she’s KGB,” says Carroway. That seems to make Gold happy.
Wait...KGB? Aren’t they the enemy? No one seems to make any more of this.
As Gold leaves he pauses. Uh, oh. Get ready for some witty one-liner. “You know, you guys really know how to win friends and influence people.” Zing!
How much time is left in this thing? 1:08:46. Oy. It’s getting longer the more it goes on.
Sometime later, Gold is dressed in a military uniform and pasting on a fake moustache. He is a master of disguise. He takes a small plane...somewhere. The pilot tells him they approaching the “drop zone.” I think a “drop zone” is anywhere a Syracuse wide receiver is standing. But I digress. Gold’s drop zone is near some sort of army encampment. Gold jumps out the plane, but fails to open his parachute. Yes! Maybe that means this movie will be over.
Down below, we are introduced to the two soldiers who will make you long—nay, beg—for death’s sweet release. That is, the comic relief. They sit by a campfire, drinking. “Por favor,” says Manuel, who is not from Barcelona. The other hands him the bottle after she takes a big swig from it.
Nearby, Gold has apparently parachuted in, although it’s obvious he just stood there holding the straps of the chute and jumped up and down a little. He is rather loud, and in full view of the camp. So much for the element of surprise. He charges into the camp, and starts bellowing “Attencion!”
“You men,” he continues, “what did you see?” “You just fell out of the tree,” says Manuel. “No!” says Gold, and starts slapping the guy pretty severely. “What did you just see?” Gold tries again. “Nada, el capitan.” “Correct!” “Where is your sergeant, Manuel?” Gold demands. “I am the sergeant,” says Manuel’s drinking buddy. Gold looks her over. “What will you tell your superiors about all this?” Gold asks. “Nada, el capitan,” replies the sergeant.
What in god’s name is going on?
“Whose Jeep is that?” asks Gold. “Ours.” Three guesses what happens next. “Whose Jeep is that?!” “What Jeep?” says Manuel. Ah. I know in the military you’re not supposed to question orders, but does any of this make sense? So all of this was so that he could steal a Jeep. “What are we going to do without our Jeep?” asks Manuel. “What Jeep, you loco?” says the sergeant, and slaps him. Oy.
Here’s my question. If they’re in Africa, why are the soldiers all vaguely latino?
Cut to a hotel...I think. On the wall is a wanted poster advertising Mike Gold. Suddenly, everyone is African, although there is one guy dressed as an Arab. It does have an international flavor. Gold charges in, still dressed as a captain. He sees his own wanted poster. For a moment, he considers turning himself in to get the reward. It’s hard being a mercenary man. Mercenary man. Mercenary man. Merc—
He charges up to the porter and belligerently announces, “I’ll take your best room!” Ah, the life of an action hero! Shooting bad guys, parachuting behind enemy lines, stealing Jeeps, reserving hotel rooms. The porter says, “That would be the Presidential Suite. That’s one thousand kwanjas.” Kwanjas? That must be the fictional currency used in the fictional state of Kobango. What’s the exchange rate of fictional currency? “Just bill the Cuban government,” says Gold. And he grabs his key and charges off. What? The Cuban government? So...is that supposed to mean that the African nation of Kobango is occupied by Cuba? Really, movie, do you want that to be your premise? I’m not sure that even in 1989 Cuba could have occupied a bus station, much less an African nation.
I should point out that there actually was a Cuban presence in Africa in the 1970s, about which more later when we get to Namibia—a real country. I just know that you can’t want.
The porter stares after Gold. “When you are gone, maybe you can make some money.” What? I think the ActionScript 0.5 Screenwriting System is creating dialog using a random word generator. The porter glares and then wiggles his ears. The hell?
It is day at the army encampment. The German colonel guy from the prison scene is interrogating the two comic relief characters. You know, that guillotine is pretty idle right about now. “You say he was headed to Vos Lowandas.” Oh, come on, at least get the Spanish articles correct. There is a bit of “funny” business involving the line “Si, comrade colonel.” Please kill me. “He is a great fool,” says the colonel, staring at the wanted poster of Gold. Yep, pretty much. The colonel then says, “I have a job for you. When this is done, I shall pluck out Mikhail Gold’s eyes with my fingers!” As opposed to his toes, perhaps? Wait, “Mikhail”? Does that mean this guy is Russian? I thought that was a German accent. Well, a bad one, but a German accent nonetheless.
Now we cut to a zoo of some kind, where our busty heroine is feeding some lion cubs. She then walks into a building carrying a python. Now we’re getting into weird Freudian territory. She’s not exactly Nastassia Kinski. She calmly strolls among live alligators and gives one a playful swat on the tail. Yeah. This must be Braun’s daughter who, G. Gordon Liddy had said, was a doctor of veterinary medicine and working for the KGB. I’m sorry, but unless there are some serious recessive genetics going on, she is not in any way the spawn of Ernest Borgnine.
A grimy, slovenly beggar lurches up beside her. “Alms, alms,” he says. Now it’s Dickensian London! This movie does have a random international flavor to it, doesn’t it? I wish I could get that flavor out of my mouth. I think this movie needs a mint.
Three guesses who the beggar is. He tells her that he was the last person to see her father before he vanished. “Michael Gold,” she says. “Your photographs don’t do you justice,” she says. Did the wanted poster also mention that he was the last person to see her father? “Meet me tonight at nine at the Mianza Restaurant,” she says. “And wash your hands first.” Zing! “You won’t recognize me” he says to her, as she struts off. Clean hands make all the difference. “Yep, I will,” she says. Zing!
If the ActionScript 0.5 Screenwriting System is programmed accurately, these two will start off as bitter enemies, sniping at each other, and will end up in bed together by the third act. What’s actually good about this is that you don’t even need to watch the movie to know what is going to happen. Which would be just as well.
The irritating comic relief pair argue about the extent to which they will recognize “this Michael Gold.” “I won’t recognize him.” “Yes, you weeeeel.” Their vaguely Cuban (I guess) accents are oddly intermingled with what sounds like Yiddish. And, gee, as they are debating about how well they will or won’t be able to recognize him, he shows up. Boing. And they recognize him. Or...it seems like they do, but a minute later they are playing dice on a balcony. The hell?
Gold breaks into a building. As soon as the door opens, the quintessentially 1980s drum machine on the soundtrack kicks in. So that’s what They Might Be Giants did with the drum machine they used on their first album. They sold it to this movie. The soundtrack has a certain “Hope That I Get Old Before I Die” feel to it. Anyway, Gold breaks into someone’s house and rifles through a rolltop desk. He peruses plans for some kind of device. He makes rather a mess, and as he drops the plans, the paper flutters past a motion detector, which suddenly lights up. I don’t know why it didn’t detect him, since he’s standing right there. Perhaps it’s only calibrated to detect when paper falls past it, for some reason. In a control room, alarms sound. “Alert the colonel at once!” barks a vaguely Germanic woman. The Russo-German colonel appears, strapping on some kind of purportedly bullet-proof vest. He barks incoherently into a telephone to get him “Outhouse 1.” Oh, Outpost 1, apparently.
The comic relief idiots are still playing dice. “Caramba!” one of the shouts. Oy caramba. Ah, it turns out these two are Outpost 1. Then I was right; it was actually Outhouse 1. They turn off the radio—which is calling for them—so they can get back to their dice game. Yeah. The colonel shouts, “I will go there myself.” The comic relief woman (I do not know what her name is) apparently wins at dice. “Muchas gracias, madre,” Oy.
The colonel arrives and yells at them. Where’s that guillotine when you need it. “You idiots! Go and see the professor’s apartments.” Ah, so that’s where Gold was. “Muv! Qvickly!”
Gold is still searching the room, and he crawls under a table and finds something stuck to its bottom. Before he can examine it, he spies the flashing of the motion detector, and hears the colonel and the others shouting outside the door. “Uno, dos...” they yell as loudly as they possibly can as they prepare to break down the door. Which makes sense, because you certainly wouldn’t want to sneak up on anyone.
The ActionScript 0.5 Screenwriting System apparently was fed elements of a Three Stooges movie. As all three of them break down the door simultaneously, it opens with little resistance, and they all fly through it—and right down a staircase. Ha ha ha. They all scream at the top of their lungs, and this gives Gold the opportunity to escape out the window. He runs across the roof of the house, and starts to climb down a drainpipe. The others are suddenly on the roof, and they see him climbing down. The colonel shoots, severing the drainpipe, and Gold falls on his back, easily shattering his spine. But, no, one edit later he is running across the roof again, completely unhurt. Must be those cast iron vertebrae he had implanted.
As runs over a corrugated tin roof, he steps onto a rusty patch and crashes through it. You would think that if he fell through a “tear” in a metallic roof he would be shredded, but no, his skin must be made of titanium. He lands on his back on a couple’s dinner table. He gets up and runs toward the window. He pauses. No, don’t say what you’re going to say. No, please, I beg of you... “I just dropped in to say bon appetit.” Oh, ActionScript 0.5 Screenwriting System, you’ve done it again!
How much time is left in this thing? 59:11. Woo hoo! Less than an hour!
That evening, I guess, he and Alissa are at the restaurant. He reiterates that he wants to find her father. “I think my father’s dead.” She is a glass-half-full kind of woman, isn’t she? “That’s possible,” he says, “but I’ll find out if you’ll help me.” “When I want to flirt, I’ll tell you,” she says. What? Oh, good, more random, incoherent dialogue where two people are having entirely different conversations. He reiterates that he’s going to find her father. She scoffs. “That is, if they don’t kill you first.” Sounds like a win-win situation. “That’s my problem,” he says. “Yeah, it’s my problem, too, if I help you.” It is?
She says that her father never discussed his work with her. “We talked about birds...music.” What about Byrds’ music? Turn turn turn.
It turns out that Braun’s colleague is a guy named Professor Rice. “Where can we find this Professor Rice?” Aisle 5, next to the pasta. She calls him on the use of the pronoun “we.” “We’re partners,” he explains. “Oh, am I worth 100,000 kwanjas, too?” “I never put price tags on women. It’s much more fun taking them off.” What? Is that supposed to be some kind of sexual innuendo? “Some things come off very easily,” she adds, which doesn’t help matters. “Such as,” he leads. Three guesses where this is going. “Such as...your head, if you don’t stick to business.” Zing!
He then abruptly decides to go in search of Professor Rice, even before the salad arrives. He offers to pull her seat out for her. “Oh, such a gentleman,” she snarks. As she walks out, he says, “Such a bitch.” Well, you’re such a complete dick so it sounds like a perfect match.
Wait—wasn’t she supposed to be KGB?
Outside the restaurant, it is afternoon. Wait—I thought it was supposed to be nine at night? It was a bold choice for the director to have not actually read the script. Then again, who could blame him?
They go to what is presumably Professor Rice’s house, and they find him lying on the floor. Would that technically be a bed of Rice? Alissa runs over and shoves her breasts in his face. That’s one way to revive him.
They ask where Braun is “Red...Skelton,” he rasps, “look for...Braun...”Where? In the “Silent Spot”? And then he dies. Well, that was helpful. Gold, for some reason, flips Rice over onto his stomach. Alissa is now convinced that her father is dead. However, Gold seems to have gotten rather a lot out of Rice’s dying words, and he says that he knows exactly where to look for him. This should be good.
Now we get another lame-brained action sequence. As they run out of Rice’s house, they come across a couple of guards in a VW Microbus. Gold shoots one of them before they can react. And Alissa whips out a gun and shoots the other one. That takes Gold by surprise. “Let me guess,” he says, “just in case you meet a charging rhino?” “No,” she quips, “Berettas are only good for killing men.” Ha ha ha. Wait—what? That’s a pretty creepy line. This movie doesn’t seem to know the difference between action hero and serial killer.
They climb into the VW, which is a massive arsenal on wheels. He gets in the back, and asks her to drive. “You’ll be sorry,” she says. We already are. We know action is imminent, because David Knopfler is back. “In the violence of the night...” Or early afternoon anyway. The VW takes off with a screech. You know, jackrabbit starts like that will adversely affect your gas mileage.
As they cruise through town—making sure that we are treated to the jouncing of Alissa’s breasts—an army Jeep appears behind them. You know exactly what the next line is: “We’ve got company.” Yep.
Three soldiers in the Jeep fire repeatedly at the VW but can’t even hit the back window. Gold himself knocks out the back window so as to better fire at them. Somehow, he manages to hit all three soldiers in the back of the Jeep without the bullets even going through the windshield. A remarkable weapon he’s got there. Unless the soldiers just threw themselves out of the Jeep to save time.
They pick up another Jeep on their tail, and Gold gets into standard action hero mode, opens the side door of the VW, and grimaces in near-sexual ecstasy as he machine-guns the Jeep. The Jeep of course flips over as it crashes into a stand selling straw baskets. And then it explodes. Those must be some baskets.
The VW tears around a corner. Gold yells at her to slow down. “I don’t know how to slow down!” I bet. They drive through a variety of street vendors’ stalls. The two comic relief bozos turn up in a station wagon, and in Three Stooges mode argue over which direction to drive and end up driving through a row of fruit stands.
How much time is left in this movie? 54:13. Oy.
The action sequence grinds on. The VW drives through a shop. The colonel arrives in his own Jeep, and immediately drives through another basket stand. So much for this country’s basket-based economy. The chase winds down a set of stairs, through a toll gate, the whole nine yards. People fly out of Jeeps in slow motion, Gold throws grenades, soldiers fly through the air in slow motion, doors get ripped off, etc. etc. etc. The comic relief dorks get in the way and mug for the camera. Yadda yadda yadda. We get shots of Alissa’s cleavage parting like the San Andreas Fault.
They come to the harbor and one of the Jeeps flies off the pier into the ocean, causing some empty boxes to inexplicably explode. That’s some pretty unstable cardboard they’ve got there. It must be what they ship the baskets in.
The comic relief dorks also fly off the end of the pier, the car does a triple spin, and crashes into the water. The colonel watches, expressionlessly.
The chase continues. More empty boxes are destroyed. Empty boxes and straw baskets are the basis of this country’s economy, it would appear.
The comic relief dorks emerge from the water. The sergeant’s white tank top is soaked through. I guess the director decided it was time for a wet T-shirt contest. Manuel gawks at her breasts. Naturally, the director feels we need a close-up. “Sergeant? Sergeant! You are no sergeant. You are a woman!” says Manuel incredulously. You can’t put anything past him.
Wait wait wait wait wait wait. Were we...were we supposed to not know that she was a woman all this time?! Were we supposed to believe that Manuel didn’t know...after all the time they spent...the... But...but...no...
“Una momento, señorita!” he shouts as she stalks off.
That’s it. I can’t take this anymore. The inane repartee, the bad acting, the ludicrously testosterone-fueled action sequences, the physics-defying ballistics—they were all bad enough. But now this? No. No no no.
Before I get the urge to pluck my eyes out (out, vile jelly!), I have to put on a real movie for a minute to get the vile taste of this movie out of my mouth...
A giant radio antenna surmounts the Earth, occupying the entire area of the North Pole. Stark white letters on a black background announce that it is A Mercury Production. Yes, written and directed by the Mercury 7 astronauts.
Brooding strings accompany a close-up of a No Trespassing sign. Through a series of dissolves, we explore the abandoned grounds of what was once a great estate. A pair of monkeys sit forlornly in a cage that says Bengal Tiger. A brace of Venetian gondolas sit idly—stuck, not breath nor motion, idle as painted ships upon a painted ocean. We approach a single lit window. The light goes out—and the music on the soundtrack stops. That’s what happens when you put the radio and lamp on the same circuit. I get the same thing when I use a hair dryer and the toaster.
Someone has reset the circuit breaker, and both the light and the music come back on. We cut to a close-up of a snowglobe. A pair of giant, mustachioed lips utter, “Rosebud.” A hand drops the snowglobe, and it rolls down a flight of stairs and shatters as it his the marble floor. One word: carpeting. A nurse comes in, reflected in the shards of glass from the shattered globe. She pulls a shroud over the body of an older man, who has shuffled off this mortal coil. We cut back out to the dimly lit window, and fade to black.
Then, triumphant music. News On the March!
All right, I suppose we should get back to Laser Mission...
After having decimated downtown Vos Lowandas, Gold and Alissa drive the VW Microbus out into the desert. Where are they going? Gold says, “We’re heading south. Toward your father and away from this country.” Ah. She asks if they can change clothes. “No, they’ll have our apartment staked out.” They have an apartment? And wasn’t he staying in a hotel? The Presidential Suite, if memory serves.
Okay, ActionScript 0.5 Screenwriting System, what is the standard line for this scene? Says Alissa, “Do all your dates wind up like this?” Waka waka. Wait—that wasn’t a date. they were meeting up to see about finding her father. The ActionScript 0.5 Screenwriting System needs a programming tweak to stop it from changing the premise of a scene for the sole purpose of making a lame quip.
He wisely ignores her. “We should reach the border by dawn.” Since it’s mid-afternoon, that means it’s at least a 12-hour drive. Do they have enough gas in that thing? They exchange awkward glances, and drive on.
Elsewhere, a Jeep drives across the baking desert sand. It pulls up at a large White Castle hamburger place. Oh, it’s just a white castle. In the middle of the desert? Inside, Eckerd is showing off the Verbic diamond to Braun. the movie is starting to come together. Or congeal, actually. Eckerd kind of looks like Percy from The Black Adder.
Says Braun, “Like all your trophies, another monument to bloodshed.” That explains the bowling trophy. Counters Eckerd: “You too are one of my prizes. And I took you without bloodshed.” Braun has mixed feelings about that. There’s a bit of back and forth. Apparently, Braun has been captured to work for Eckerd. “You vill do what I tell you!” How about engineer him a better accent. “I would rather die.”
Eckerd leads him into another room, and proudly shows off his severed head collection. Severed head collection? One of them is Gilbert Gottfried. But why? Not that I’m complaining, mind you. Aflac! “Think of this room...and your daughter in it,” he says. Yeah she would be pretty creeped out. Oh, I see what you mean.... “What kind of monster are you?” Braun asks. How many kinds are there?
Cut back to the VW and its apparently inexhaustible gas tank. Gold is driving, and Alissa wakes up. “We’re almost there.” “Where?” “The border of Namibia. Where your father is.” Aha! So that’s where we’ve been all this time.
Let’s look at Namibia, shall we? A real place, Namibia is officially called the Republic of Namibia. It’s located in Southern Africa and is bounded on the west by the Atlantic Ocean. To the north, it borders Angola and Zambia; to the east, Botswana and Zimbabwe; and to the south and east, South Africa. Namibia gained independence from South Africa in March 1990 following the Namibian War of Independence. Its capital and largest city is Windhoek. Visited by Dutch and British missionaries, in 1884, it became a German protectorate. This is interesting:
In 1970, the South West Africa People’s Organization made alliances with Fidel Castro, who sent Cuban troops to join SWAPO-forces in their struggle for independence. In response, South Africa installed an interim administration in Namibia in 1985.
And:
While the official language is English, most of the white population speaks either German or Afrikaans. Even today, 90 years after the end of the German colonial era, the German language plays a ruling role as a commercial language. Afrikaans is spoken by 60% of the white community, German is spoken by 32%, English is spoken by 7% and Portuguese by 1%.
That explains much of the international flavor of its fictional neighbor to the north. Okay, movie, I’ll grant you that. But you could have told us.
Anyway, how does Gold know that Braun is in Namibia? “Do you remember what Rice said before he died?” She yawns, “Look for Braun’s skeleton.” I thought it was “Red...Skelton...look for...Braun...” And what does that have to do with Namibia? “Just south of here is the most miserable, burning, parched stretch of godforsaken desert in the world.” Southern California? “The natives call it ‘Skeleton Coast.’” I bet the narrator of Mesa of Lost Women would take issue with that, and argue in favor of the Muerto Desert in Mexico as being more miserable and godforsaken.
The Skeleton Coast is the northern part of the Atlantic Ocean coast of Namibia and south of Angola from the Kunene River south to the Swakop River, although the name is sometimes used to describe the entire Namib Desert coast. The Bushmen of the Namibian interior called the region “The Land God Made in Anger,” while Portuguese sailors once referred to it as “The Gates of Hell.” ... The coast is named for the bleached whale and seal bones which covered the shore when the whaling industry was still active, as well as the skeletal shipwrecks caused by rocks offshore in the fog.
So there.
“You always take me to such fun places,” she gripes. They’ve known each other for less than a day! He’s never taken her anywhere!
They arrive at the border, which is heavily guarded. Oh, like that even matters. They stop, he arms himself, and asks her to drive again. Oh, god, not again.
Here we go: the ActionScript 0.5 Screenwriting System spits out the usual: the VW screams through the border patrol, Gold grabs a rocket launcher, which somehow ends up machine-gunning everyone, everything blows up, guard towers fall over (just like F Troop), people burst into flames, guards fly through the air in slow motion, yadda yadda yadda. As usual, no one else could hit the broad side of a barn (or the barn side of a broad).
However, as they think they are home free, one Jeep pursues them, and fires their own rocket launcher at them. It takes three tries but they manage to land a rocket directly in front of the VW. The Microbus explodes. But, thanks to the power of the ActionScript 0.5 Screenwriting System, and the magic of editing, Gold and Alissa cleverly escaped the VW...uh, at some point, somehow. They run from the wreckage. How far do they have to go? “400 miles, give or take a few.” Ah, across the desert. On foot. With no water. Piece of cake!
As they cross the border, we discover that the country they had been in was actually called Kavango. Now they tell us.
They stride across the desert quite briskly and are rather blasé about it. They sit by a rock, and have another fairly incoherent conversation. At one point, she suggests eating him. Ha ha ha. “Can I ask you a personal question?” he asks. He forges on, “You carry a gun and you’re not afraid to use it, you can outdrive with the best of them...who are you and who are you working for?” Didn’t Carroway say that she was KGB? I thought we established that. Anyway, she takes umbrage at the question. “I’m Alissa Braun. Who do you think I am? I’m hot, and I’m tired, and hungry and thirsty.” And whiny. “And let me tell you something else, buster, you’re not my idea of a dream date.” She calls him an obscene name, and stalks off.
That night, the colonel arrives at the smoldering remains of the border crossing. He is joined by Eckerd. “Ve vill head south,” he announces to the assembled men, “so that Comrade Eckerd and his men can do what they do best.” Chainsaw sculpture? But why? “Remember,” he adds, “whoever brings me Mikhail Gold gets a reward.” A Scooby Snack? “The woman.” Some reward. Eckerd is rather gleeful about this. Wait till you meet her. It’ll be like an O. Henry story.
Meanwhile, Gold and Alissa are trudging across the desert by night. They come across a camp with a camel tethered outside a tent. The lone camper—a miner—sits by the fire and even though he is facing the exact direction they came, they startle him. He draws his rifle. Gold holds up his hands; “My hands are empty,” he says. The guy puts his gun down, apparently not noticing the obvious pistol holstered in Gold’s armpit. The guy knows who they are. “News travels fast, even in the desert.” He swigs from a bottle of Jack Daniels. Hey, how did he buy booze if he’s a minor? Oh, miner. Never mind. “I hear there’s a certain Mr. Eckerd and some of his friends are real anxious to talk to you.” Gold asks him for help. Alissa offers to pay him. “No, thank you, missy.” He wants nothing to do with Eckerd. I don’t know; he already looks like one of the desiccated heads from the collection. They all decide to sleep on it.
As they try to sleep, Alissa apologizes for losing her temper earlier. As they drift off to sleep, they are about six feet apart. When they wake in the morning, they are nestled close together. As they wake, they are startled to realize this. Even more jarring, though, is that their benefactor has taken off. “Where’s the miner? I thought he was going to help us.” “Maybe he already helped you and I don’t know about it.” What? Is he in his own little sub-movie?
They continue onward. Across the hot desert, by day, with, again, no water. They come across the ruins of a concrete structure and cautiously explore it. Skulking around on top of it—where he would have been clearly visible to anyone approaching—is an archer.
Gold and Alissa at that point have a tender moment. She again apologizes to him for freaking out. “It’s just that I’m scared, and worried about the professor.” “Your father, you mean,” says Gold. She hesitates a moment. “Yeah, my father.” Plot point! Plot point! Oh, ActionScript 0.5 Screenwriting System, you’ve thrown us a curve. Well, no, not really. She wigs out again. “I’m trying to apologize! What do you want me to do, get down on my knees?” Innunedo coming in... Three...two...one: “That would be nice.” Zing!
How much time is left in this thing? 38:15. Getting there.
As they are about to embrace for some reason, an arrow hits the wall directly between them. Oh, come on. Oh, please: Gold and Alissa are looking out the window. The assassin runs in behind them. They don’t know he’s there. Instead of sneaking up on them and getting the upper hand, the would-be assassin lets out a scream and pauses, giving them ample time to turn around and shoot him. Oh, come on!
Dear ActionScript 0.5 Screenwriting System: you have to play fair with the audience. I know you’re just a badly programmed machine, but you can’t have people do incredibly dumb things solely to serve the plot and make the hero look butch!
As they leave, we see that something went on with Alissa and the miner. Maybe. Anyway, she now has a large, black leg strap under her dress with a pretty big gun in it. Where did that come from?
They amble off. “This is like a nightmare,” she says. Tell me about it. Says Gold, “We’re out of danger now.” Three...two...one: A shot ricochets off a nearby rock. Yep.
Oh, come on ActionScript 0.5 Screenwriting System, now you’ve gone way too far: Gold and Alissa are standing out in the open desert. A guy comes riding up on a horse, shooting at them. He can’t hit either of them, despite the fact that they are not moving or taking cover. As the guy gets closer to them, he stops firing, even though Gold is pointing his gun at him. It is then no surprise that Gold shoots him right in the chest. He screams (of course), then falls backward off the horse. Actually, I’m not sure how he got that chest wound, since the horse’s head would have been in the way. I guess it’s Gold’s magic curving bullets again.
The horse wisely takes off. Gold flips the dead guy over to have a look at him, and gets royally cheesed that the guy’s gun broke. He has a bit of a hissy fit, especially when he finds that the horse has taken off, too. He snaps at Alissa “Get the horse!” A horse, my kingdom for— Oh, it’s not worth quoting Shakespeare in this turkey. “How exactly would you like me to do that?” she asks. “This is not my day,” he says. Ha ha ha. “Things could be worse,” she says. Yeah, they could be watching this. “At least we’re in this together,” she says. “Somehow I fail to find that reassuring.” And he stalks off.
They continue across the blazing hot desert. On foot. With no water. Okay.
The suddenly spot someone else coming across the sand. Jeez, the middle of this desert is like Grand Central Station. “Do you think he’s one of them?” she asks. “You sure ask stupid questions sometimes.” He tells her to head off toward “that horizon.” She protests, but he is insistent. Sure, go that way, Artoo. You’ll be breaking down in no time. As he goes, he follows right behind her. Okay.
Their latest pursuer comes running up with a rifle. Like it even matters. You know, you lose all suspense when you’ve established throughout the entire movie that everyone but Gold is a lousy shot and the hero can never even be wounded.
For crying out loud—ActionScript 0.5 Screenwriting System, you’ve gone way too far...again: their pursuer was right behind them. They are in a vast open desert. Suddenly, Alissa and Gold have vanished. The pursuer walks across the sand, looking for them. Suddenly, a hand reaches out of the sand and grabs his ankle. Yes, Gold had buried himself in the sand. You know, if you thought the James Bond movies strained credulity.... So, naturally, even though the guy has a loaded rifle, and manages to squeeze a shot off, he still gets beaten up by Gold. At one point, Gold throws sand in the guy’s face. Good one.
After tumbling down a dune, Gold asks who the guy works for. The guys spits in Gold’s face. That’s impressive, considering he has been running across the hot desert without any water. Gold, perhaps indignant over the waste of moisture, punches him in the face. Hey, it’s Phil Collins. Heh, everyone in this movie should be singing “I Missed Again.”
It turns out that Phil Collins works for Peter Eckerd, a hunter, tracker, and soldier of fortune. And drug store chain. Eckerd comes from “Little Austria, a place called Swockup.” Swockup? Is it a three-floor swockup? As the guy falls back to the sand, Alissa comes up with the horse. Now how... Oh, brother. As Gold walks up to them, the guy gets up and charges Gold from behind. Alissa can quite clearly see this, but says nothing. As Gold is slugged, she screams. As Gold and the other guy duke it out, Alissa jumps on the guy’s back. What happened to the arsenal she had under her dress? She is easily bested, and Gold and the guy fall to the ground and start wrestling.
The director decided to get arty and frame this scene with the underside of the horse, treating us to Horse Genitalia Cam. Thanks, movie. I swear this movie hates me.
The guy handily dispatched (come on, was there ever any doubt?) Gold and Alissa get on the horse and ride across the desert. David Knopfler chimes in again. “The fire still burns...” Still? It’s been burning all movie. Must be like a tire fire or something. Those things never go out.
They ride into town on a railroad track—a horse on a railroad track? They ride up to a hotel and hand the horse’s reins to the valet. “Feed him and park him around the corner,” says Gold with a smirk. Zing! Gold doesn’t even tip the guy.
They walk up to the counter and Gold tells the clerk that “me and my wife” want to go on a safari, and could he recommend a guide. They mull that over a bit, and Alissa suggests “How about that...um...Eckerd.” How very clever of them. The hotel clerk doesn’t think it’s a particularly good idea. He says that Eckerd has retired. Well, so much for that idea.
Gold and Alissa check into a room, and Alissa crashes on the bed. Gold says, “I’ll go tonight and see what I can find out under the cover of darkness.” His dialogue is taking a turn for the dramatic, isn’t it?
He gives Alissa a coy glance, then picks up the phone. “My wife and I...” and he starts snickering like he’s 14 years old, “have been on the road for some time. How long would it take to have a suit pressed? A dress, as well?” I suppose that it would be silly at this point to point out that he’s not wearing a suit, just a shirt and some slacks. “Three hours?” he says. “Could you make that five hours?” Five hours? Yeah, right.
And as we head into the last act, right on cue, Gold and Alissa go to it.
It is apparently five hours later, and Gold is asleep. I’m guessing he has been asleep for four hours and fifty-eight minutes. A seemingly disembodied hand knocks at the door, and hands their pressed clothes to Alissa. I guess Thing from The Addams Family got a job as a hotel valet. Outside, a car pulls up. Inside is the Russo-German colonel (in civilian clothes) and...some other guy. They of course pull up to the hotel with a very loud screech of brakes so they can’t help but attract the attention of Alissa, who is standing at the window. She grabs her dress and a set of keys and slinks out.
The colonel and the other guy hold the hotel clerk at gunpoint and demand to know “Vich rum?” Bacardi?
Somehow, Alissa is on the sidewalk outside the hotel, heading toward the front door. How did she do that? Can she bi-locate? She climbs into the colonel’s car and hotwires the ignition. She toots the horn, and waves to the colonel. “Darsdagirlgogettuh!!!” the colonel shouts incoherently. They charge out the door and start firing at the car. Yeah, like they’re going to hit it. As the colonel is standing in the middle of the road, another car screeches to a halt behind him. It beeps, and that cheeses him off. He and his buddy pull the driver out of the car, and take off in pursuit of Alissa. For some reason, all the pedestrians are running around frantically in random directions.
Meanwhile, Gold wakes up and finds a note from Alissa, saying that she has gone shopping. He has no qualms about that, and falls back asleep. Namibia is known for its shopping, after all.
Alissa sees her pursuers in her rear-view mirror. “This is gonna be easy,” she says aloud. Uh huh.
Some hours later, Gold is up and dressed. He is pacing. The phone rings. It is Alissa. Uh oh. I guess it wasn’t as easy as she thought. Where is she? “I’m about 20 miles out of town,” she says. “I have good news about Kaleshnikov. He’s dead.” Who’s Kaleshnikov? “You killed him?” he asks. “With pleasure,” she says. Who’s Kaleshnikov? A real son of a gun, I bet. “Why don’t you head to Eckerd’s and I’ll meet you back at the hotel after I’ve...cleaned up.” Okay, she’s obviously talking in some kind of code (for once, its intentional!). Does he grasp it?
We cut to Alissa, and a gun is pressed against her temple. Ah, so it wasn’t easy. “How was I?” she asks. “Superb, my dear,” says the Russo-German colonel. Oh, is he Kaleshnikov? “To be killed like you said, with honor, is indeed a pleasure.” What? “I shall repay in kind.” What? What?
Gold walks across the desert and has apparently found Little Austria. It’s the white castle from earlier. A sign outside says “Betreten Streng Verboten.” I don’t know what that means; I think “bringing string is forbidden” but I could be wrong. It is also surrounded by razor wire and an electrified fence. I wonder if anyone is going to get thrown into it?
How will Gold get in? A Jeep pulls up, quite fortuitously, and he silently jumps in the back. The driver stands up, and Gold punches him out right into...yep, into the electrified fence. Don’t say it...don’t... Gold then drives the Jeep through the fence. Hey, he didn’t say it. No “That was shocking”? I don’t know, ActionScript 0.5 Screenwriting System, you’re slipping.
As Gold walks up to the house, he passes through a cluster of wooden cages with people imprisoned in them. As he wanders around, he falls into a concealed pit. Yes!
The following morning, Gold is handcuffed to a chair. Across from him is Braun, also handcuffed to a chair. Between them, the Verbic diamond. “You came to rescue me?” says Braun. Ha ha [\muntz]. Well, Gold deserves it. “One dinosaur chasing another.” I think we know which one is the brontosaurus. Gold looks at the diamond. “Is that why we’re here?” he asks. Braun nods.
In an earlier draft of this, a mercenary named Diamond was on the trail of some stolen gold. I guess they thought it would work better the other way around. They were wrong.
“The diamond and my skill have brought us all together,” says Braun. His skill as a wedding planner? Says Gold, “I did my homework on your blueprint of the laser weapon system.” Okay, where is your homework? “Uh, the dog ate it.” Says Braun, “My compliments on your detective ability.” Oh, come on, he opened a door and looked at a piece of paper. Not exactly Sherlock Holmes.
“You see,” says Braun, “with the Verbic diamond and my laser, I can create a nuclear weapon.”
Ppppffffffffthththththt!!!!!
Sorry, I just did a spit take.
A nuclear weapon? Well, then again, if MacGyver could make a nuclear weapon from duct tape and a chewing gum wrapper, why not?
“The combination of the two makes my knowledge invaluable to the one who controls its forces.” Uh huh. And whoever uses it, “can start World War III.” Well, that’s certainly a worthy— what? Why would anyone want to?
I guess we’re about to find out. Eckerd and Kaleshnikov amble in. Eckerd is dressed for a safari and sports a foppish neckerchief. Kaleshnikov is back in his uniform. “Mr. Gold, at last we meet,” says Eckerd. “I’d love to shake hands,” says Gold. Zing!
“I’ve been studying you the past few days,” says Eckerd, “You’re fun to play with.” Just stay out of his sandbox. Eckerd says, “I believe you know my partner,” and indicates Kaleshnikov. Kaleshnikov loudly clicks his heels together. Oh, brother. “I heard you were dead,” said Gold. Rumors of his death have been greatly—well, you know. “You trusted the voman,” says Kaleshnikov. Eckerd then points out to Braun that they now have his daughter. “Take the girl to the mine and close up shop,” says Eckerd to Kaleshnikov. Quitting time already? He balks. “And leave you with Braun...and the diamond.” I guess there is no honor among thieves. Or among psychopaths. Eckerd tsks him. “Take it.” Kaleshnikov grabs it and leaves.
Now the wheels come off the wagon.
He unlocks Gold’s handcuffs. “I never kill an intruder without giving him a sporting chance.” Uh huh. He takes Gold to his trophy room. I don’t know, I think it might be a little too underdecorated. I think there’s a square millimeter that doesn’t have a weapon, a pelt, or some kind of stuffed creature on it. I see, this is the Hall of Mammals. The reptile exhibit is in the guest bathroom. A new installation—Mollusks and Mankind—is being added to his sitting room. You ever shoot a limpet with a blunderbuss? Eckerd has.
Okay, ActionScript 0.5 Screenwriting System, this must be the obligatory scene where the bad guy reveals all his plans. Unfortunately, I think the microphone was sewn up inside the stomach of the stuffed jaguar, as it is impossible to understand what he is saying. “I keep people in their vices,” says Eckerd. What? Their vices? “The need for power.” “By people in power, you mean slaves.” What? “Always the right answer,” says Eckerd, “I know exactly what you are thinking.” I think the ActionScript 0.5 Screenwriting System needs to be rebooted. “You want me to stop rescuing that girl, right?” says Eckerd. What? “I intend to kill you,” counters Gold, “and rescue the professor an the girl.” And, Eckerd, merge you with Rite Aid. Okay, I’ll see your rescue of the professor and the girl, and I’ll raise you the rescue of Kaleshnikov, the people in those wooden cages, and the Gilbert Gottfried head in the basement.
And, at that moment, Gold punches Eckerd in the face. He’s not a very dignified hero. Eckerd punches back, and Gold falls back against the wall. Eckerd takes off up the stairs, Gold in pursuit. They beat the crap out of each other for a while, and Eckerd makes it upstairs. For some bizarre reason, Eckerd makes a beeline directly for the battlement, so they can duke it out right near the edge of the tower. At one point, Eckerd is doubles over the side of the tower, and Gold could over easily have pushed him over. But he hauls him back so he can continue punching him. As it turns out, for some reason hitherto unknown to physics, they run at each other and then both fly over the edge of the tower.
Even though the are holding on to each other, Gold lands on his back on the lawn below—again, those cast iron vertebrae helped what certainly would have rushed his spine—but Eckerd ends up impaled on a spiked railing about 10 feet away.
Well, that was certainly anticlimactic.
A ninja-like guard attacks Gold, and Gold picks him up and snaps his spine across his knee. See, if only he had had Gold’s iron spine, he could have survived that.
Gold charges back into the house and shouts, “Professor!” which apparently wakes Braun up. He and Braun head out to the mine.
At the mine—oh, no! It’s the two comic relief bozos again. They have apparently been sent here to atone for their crimes against cinema. They are chained and break rocks with sledgehammers. Says Manuel, “Nikita Roberta, you should not be doing this!” I’m sure it’s not her idea. “We must help the anarchy, or we all will be keeeled.” What? She glares at him, which is really the best response.
“Manuel,” she says, “I huv uh plonn.” What kind of accent is that? It’s a bizarre mix of Eastern European and Spanish, with a little bit of Klingon thrown in. Anyway, what is your cunning plonn? Before we can find out, they are ushered away.
In a small concrete building nearby, Alissa is tied to a chair. Kaleshnikov saunters in, and he asks his assistant if “the dynamite has been planted in the mine.” Yep. He orders, “Gather the slaves, put them in the mine, and seal it for good.” So he’s going to blow up the slaves. Any particular reason, or is it just a kicky sort of thing to do?
He empties out a pouch of diamonds. “Diamonds are a girl’s best friend,” he says to Alissa. But it’s hard to play pinochle with them. Oh, brother: Kaleshnikov tosses the diamonds into her cleavage. He implies that Gold is about to be killed, then starts kissing her rather rudely. Ugh. “I like that in a woman,” he says, “I like breaking them.” His pick-up lines need some work.
Gold and Braun arrive at the mine just in time to see the guards machine-gunning a group of slaves. Intercut with this is Kaleshnikov sensuously rubbing a straight razor down Alissa’s breasts. This movie has taken a seriously creepy turn all of a sudden. Why are they killing the slaves? “They’re killing the vitnesses?” asks Braun. Witnesses? To what? Diamond mining? Grat, the witlesses are killing the witnesses. Gold says something to Braun, but it can’t be heard over the sound of gunfire, but it stirs Braun’s ire. “Schweinhunds!” Yeah.
How much time is left in this thing? 16:10. Closer than we’ve ever been.
“They have my daughter down there!” says Braun. Hell hath no fury like Ernest Borgnine scorned.
Across the way, Manuel insists that being a slave is no way for a woman to act. Oh, brother. Machine-gun fire rings out (from whom?), and Nikita takes that opportunity to whack a guard on the back with a shovel. She and Manuel flee. Hey! Why not go into the mine! You’ll be safe there! Honest!
Meanwhile Kaleshnikov is getting even more unpleasant. And intensely stupid. He swivels Alissa’s chair around and crouches down directly in front of her, prepared to do something vile. Her legs are not tied. It doesn’t take the ActionScript 0.5 Screenwriting System to figure out what is about to happen. As he starts pawing her, three...two...one: yep, she kicks him right in the Verbic diamonds. Down he goes. He calls her a not very nice name, then takes out his gun. The sound of machine-gun fire has grown louder. He slaps her, then runs out, gun in hand.
Alissa, left alone, struggles against her leather restraints. Fortunately, Kaleshnikov had left his straight razor on the table nearby. She manages to get a hold of it with little trouble.
In the mine, the explosive charges are being set. 10 minutes and counting down. Speaking of counting down, how much time is left in this thing? 14:28. Less than 15 minutes. Whew!
Alissa has sliced through her restraints, and she grabs a gun and runs outside. Gold’s shield of invisibility has somehow been conferred on her, so no one can see her when she is directly in front of them. She easily takes out several soldiers.
Gold meanwhile runs around the mine, and even though he is out in the open, no one can hit him. In fact, few even try, and are content to stand by and calmly wait for him to shoot them. At one point, he literally takes out two people with one bullet. Yawn.
But, hey, Kaleshnikov sneaks up behind him and actually doesn’t make any noise to alert Gold to his presence, or wait for Gold to turn around and shoot him. In fact, Kaleshnikov shoots Gold right in the back. Gold goes down. Yes!
Kaleshnikov walks over and holds his gun to Gold’s head. “You eeediot.” Kleenk! Meanwhile, Alissa sneaks up from the side and puts her gun to Kaleshnikov’s head. Good thing he has no peripheral vision.
Gold gets to his feet. Now wait a minute. He was shot in the back. There is a large bloodstain on the front of his shirt, which suggests that the bullet went through him. And about where his kidney would be. And he’s perfectly fine? Oh, come on!
The comic relief dorks commandeer a Jeep and drive through the camp machine-gunning everyone. At one point, their bullets travel around a corner to hit several soldiers at right angles to the direction they are firing. It’s rather remarkable ammunition. It’s also rather curious why the soldiers eagerly run directly into the path of the bullets.
The dorks stop when they see Ernest Borgnine, and immediately surrender to him. Well, who wouldn’t?
Somehow, Kaleshnikov has disarmed Alissa, and Gold is gone. She manages to get free and run away. “I cannot be bitten by a voman!” Kaleshnikov shouts and runs after her. Oh, beaten by a women, I think he means. Maybe. Inside some dilapidated concrete structure, he tackles her to the ground.
Elsewhere, Gold is now perfectly recovered from having a bullet shear his kidney in two, and he runs down to the mine and frees the slaves.
Braun, too, has a big-ass shotgun and is taking out his share of soldiers. Not bad for a very large, 72-year-old scientist.
Gold, who has now lost about five pints of blood by the looks of it, is still sprily running down into the mine. He gets into a brawl with some random soldier and in the struggle a support beam is knocked over. Of course, the ceiling collapses only on the soldier.
Kaleshnikov has chased Alissa to another mine entrance, and they both trip and roll down into the mine. As it happens, Gold is right there. Kaleshnikov holds a gun to Alissa’s head, and Gold trains his gun on Kalishnikov. “Mexican standoff,” says Kalishnikov. Well, more like Namibian-Cuban-Russo-German standoff. “Americans!” says Kaleshinkov. “Like in the movies.” Well, in good movies. “You kill me with your stupid—“ and Gold shoots him. Well, that was easy. Gold fires about a half dozen rounds into him. Kaleshnikov falls over backward, and rolls down a cliff inside the mine.
Cool. Is this over now?
Alissa is happy. There is a weird exchange, and Gold wanders off.
Outside, there is a lot of random running around and shooting. It’s not entirely clear who is shooting whom at this point, or even why. But whatever. Gold meets up with Braun, who says, “The African said my daughter was in the shack. Where’s the shack?”
If you see a faded sign by the side of the road that says
15 miles to the... Love Shack!
Maybe not. Gold tells him to go get a vehicle. Wait—where did Alissa go, anyway? Shouldn’t she be with Gold?
Braun secures a Jeep, and the comic relief dorks are in it. Gold and Alissa walk up and Gold points a gun at Braun. Huh? “Who are you?” Gold asks. Braun, naturally, is a little surprised by the question. Ah, but, waka waka, Gold was actually talking to the comic relief dorks. Why he was looking right at Braun remains a mystery. Maybe all the blood loss is finally getting to him. Braun explains that they are his new “amigos.”
Now the fun part. The ActionScript 0.5 Screenwriting System must have worked overtime for this. Says Braun. “Where is my daughter?” Gold points to Alissa. Braun looks at them both quizzically. “I thought she was your daughter,” says Gold. “I have never seen her before in my life,” says Braun. Boing. “Let’s just say that I’m your guardian angel, sent to look after you,” she says. To whom was she speaking? He glares at her. “Prentiss sent you?” Prentiss? Who’s Prentiss? Then Gold looks at the comic relief dorks. “And who are you?” “I am Michael Gold,” says Manuel. What? “I’m Michael Gold,” says Gold. What? What in heaven’s name is happening? “Aah!!” say the comic relief dorks in unison. “How do you do, Michael Gold?” What? They were sent by Prentiss—whoever Prentiss is—too? But...but...No, that makes no sense. Help me, Spock. Norman, coordinate!
Now, wait a damn minute: over in the mine entrance, a hand rises up out of the mine. It is Kaleshnikov. He’s not dead. He takes off his jacket to reveal that bullet-proof vest thingie. Okay, movie, I’ll give you that; we saw it earlier. But it’s a remarkable garment if it protected him from falling into a chasm. He takes off his bullet-proof vest. Might it not be a good idea to keep it on for a little while longer?
Cut to the countdown timer; 25 seconds until the mine explodes. And 6:56 until the movie ends. Tick tick tick...
At the Jeep, Alissa says, “I was your insurance policy.” I don’t want to know what her deductible is. The premiums seem pretty steep. And you can’t pick your own doctor.
Kaleshnikov wanders over to the ridge overlooking Gold and company. He raises his gun, and screams, “Gooooooooyyyyyuuuuuuuggggghhhhhsssggdryesdjnadmfjdg!!!” Pardon?
Doesn’t matter, really, because as soon as he aims the gun, the mine explodes, taking, presumably, Kaleshnikov with it. “Let’s get out of here,” Gold wisely advises.
At that moment, a helicopter arrives. Now what? Can this just end?
The helicopter lands and three people get out. The G. Gordon Liddy guy (is that Prentiss?), Carroway, and a tall Germanic women. “Liebchen!” Braun shouts, and runs toward her. They embrace. Ah, his real daughter. Says G. Gordon Liddy: “It appears you pulled it off, Gold.” Says Carroway to Alissa, “Well done, Zephyr.” This takes Gold by surprise. Gold’s surprise takes G. Gordon Liddy by surprise. Gold changes the subject and asks when he gets paid. So does Alissa/Zephyr. Turns out, Gold and Alissa/Zephyr have to split the million dollars. They seem cool with it. But I thought Gold had turned down the money and just did it because he had given Braun his word?
Carroway is eager to get out of there and talk to the Professor. However, Gold has to arrange his own transportation. Why? Does Braun max out the weight capacity of the helicopter?
Braun thanks Gold for everything. Meanwhile, the two comic relief dorks steal the helicopter. Everyone laughs as they struggle to fly it and nearly crash several times. Ha ha ha. Imminent fiery death is funny!
Asks Braun, “What about Prentiss and the other fellow?” So G. Gordon Liddy was Prentiss. See, movie, you should have told us that earlier.
Suddenly a shot rings out. Oh, come on! Yes, it’s Kaleshnikov. Again. And of course he stands right in front of the Jeep, shoots about dozen times, and can’t hit anyone. And, in fact, calmly stands and lets Gold ram him with the Jeep then plow into a very shoddily made brick wall, which crumbles to the ground leaving the Jeep completely unscathed. Everyone kind of ambles away uncomfortably. Purportedly, Kaleshnikov is dead.
Alissa asks who has the diamond. Says Braun, “Whoever has it will have a strong bargaining position.” To do what? And shouldn’t it go back to the people from whom it was stolen, Featherby and the folks from the party at the beginning of the movie? Gold says, “I got it.” And he starts tossing it around. “But who’s the rightful owner?” asks Alissa. Exactly! “You’re looking at him,” says Gold. What a creep. I think Featherby should give him a stern talking to, or a the very least write him a strongly worded letter.
And cut to end credits, and of course a reprise of “Mercenary Man.”
Whew!
THE END!
I need a nice, long, hot shower in one of those chemical burn units.
But wait—why exactly were Kaleshnikov and Eckerd so eager to start World War III? They were soldiers of fortune. Is there really a lot of money in starting nuclear wars? And what exactly were all the slaves a witness to that they had to be killed? It was a diamond mine. In Africa. Not exactly something super secret.
And why did the CIA hire a mercenary to get Braun to defect, especially when Braun seemed quite happy to do it all by himself?
Why was this wretched movie even made? And why was it in a box set of science-fiction films. Unless Gold was actually a super-powerful extraterrestrial being, which could explains why he could never be killed by Earth weapons.
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Posted 07/28/09
