Zulu (1964)

Back in 1879 Great Britain suffered one of its worst military disasters on the mountain slopes of Isandhlwanda, Natal, Africa, when 1300 Redcoats were overwhelmed and massacred by a large force of Zulu warriors. (And I pause for historical accuracy to add that the Brits were the aggressors here.)

Flush with victory, chief Cetshwayo next sent his impis, 4000 strong, to finish clearing out these invaders by destroying the outpost at Rourke's Drift; a Swedish mission doubling as a military hospital, where a small Welsh unit of barely 100 men were stationed. This is where the film Zulu (1969) begins

When word of the massacre reaches the mission, Lt. Chard (Baker), a Royal Engineer, abandons the bridge he was sent to build and musters the company to shore up the small outpost's defenses. Outranked by only a few months, Lt. Bromhead (Caine, making his big screen debut), grudgingly relinquishes command of his men to Chard as the fortification continues.

And then the tension builds from the inside out as the barriers go up and the camera lingers on the meager force back-dropped against the vast African landscape, further fueled by the drunken ravings of Reverend Witt (Hawkins), who admonishes them all to leave or they will all most assuredly be killed when the tide of Zulus arrive and overrun them.

Judging by the trailer, I suppose you could consider Zulu as one of those old fashioned manly-men movies that could have easily been gleaned straight out of the lurid Sweats and male adventure magazines from the 1950s and '60s.

Sure, it's wrought with a few historical inaccuracies but I think that's selling it a bit short. Check out the great scene early on in the film, when the officers work on their defensive strategy with Ardendorff (Gert Van den Bergh), a Zulu expert and survivor of the earlier battle, and Bromhead dismisses the native levies who also died as "cowardly blacks." Here, he is quickly rebuffed and reminded that it isn't the Grenadier Guards coming to wipe them out.

Ardendorff also brought orders that they are to hold their position indefinitely, no matter what, to which Chard snipes about which "son or heir" -- who did nothing to earn their commission -- gave that asinine order? Now it's Bromhead's turn to be indignant, when he points out that they're "no one's son or heir now."

It's not very subtle, granted, but it does a nice job of evening out the playing field. You definitely feel the loss of humanity on both sides when the bullets and spears start flying, and you also witness bravery on both sides of the walls as well.

After that the politics are left to the politicians; this is a tale of soldiers and warriors, and the only preaching comes from the inebriated Witt. And when a panicky private asks why they have to fight, the answer is simple: because we're here.

About the first third of the film is just a warm-up, dedicated to the fortifications, while the rest of the film is basically just one long, sustained battle sequence with a few brief -- and I mean BRIEF -- respites.

Wave after wave of native warriors crash onto the makeshift walls but are beaten back with sound strategy and superior fire power. But with every Zulu they knock down, three seem to take his place. And as the battle rages all day and into the night, with casualties mounting and most of the outpost burning or burned out, come the dawn, they all know their luck won't hold out forever.

And when the sun does rise the next morning, I can only hope you all were as enthralled as I was when the Zulus sang and beat out their war chant and the British countered with their own hymn of defiance.

Then, when the stand-off ends, and the final battle finally breaks wide open, I'll warn you that just when you think it's all over it isn't, as there are several surprises and one huge "Oh shit" moment still left to be unveiled.

(L-R) Stanley Baker and Cy Endfield.

For a guy who never really did anything like this before, director Cy Endfield, with a helpful assist from cinematographer Stephen Dade, is to be commended for his staging and execution. The battle scenes last well over an hour and, with some artful framing and extended set-ups, are truly incredible to watch.

And more importantly, he took the time to let us get to know some of the men -- from malingerer turned hero, Hook (Booth), to the stiff upper lip of Sgt. Bourne (Green) -- so we care what happens to them.

There is some unintentional humor here, though, as the British troops are so regimented to a fault you half expect Graham Chapman -- decked out as the colonel from Monty Python -- to pop up and tell everyone to "Stop being silly" and then promptly take a Zulu spear to the chest. And to train his native extras, Endfield had to show them an old Gene Autry western so they could understand what they were doing.

As I said before, aside from a few bit parts, this was Michael Caine's big screen debut, and most of the art for the VHS and DVD covers tout this, and him, but the film really belongs to Richard Burton's drinking buddy, Stanley Baker. And if anyone steals the movie, it's not Caine but Nigel Green ( -- who, with all apologies to Steve Reeves, made a great Hercules in Jason and the Argonauts.

The Grand Island Independent (August 22, 1964).

But this film was Baker’s baby, and the tough, gritty, and highly combustible actor formed Diamond Films, secured financing from Joseph E. Levine, and hired the black-listed Endfield to write and direct this feature for him. Both lead actors do well anchoring the film, held up admirably by the supporting cast, and gives the carnage and story told here a lot of weight and emotional punch.

True, Zulu is not without its flaws. Sharp eyes will spot re-animated corpses on both sides; Hook's malcontent seems anachronistically out of place; and some intentional humor misses badly. But the pluses leave the minuses choking on a lot of dust.

From the actors, to the action, to one fantastic, rousing score from composer John Barry, Zulu has something that today's big and empty blockbusters just don't have. Sure, they try the same noise and thunder -- hell, Ridley Scott stole the Zulu's war chant for the "Unleash Hell" sequence in Gladiator (2000), but they always seem lacking when it comes to three simple words: sheer, scope, and magnitude.

I don't think you can make grandeur, I think grandeur happens -- and I sure as hell know you can't generate it on a computer. I mean, take a look at the scene when the Zulus first approach the mission:

At first we don't even see them, but it sounds like the approach of an oncoming train. And when they do finally appear, that's about 700 non-CGI extras on the bluffs encircling the camp.

So, do yourself a favor, when you track down a copy of this film, make sure you don't get the cheaper pan-n-scan version. You need to see this thing in its proper aspect ratio to fully appreciate the sheer magnitude of Zulu's epic scope.

Originally printed on June 23, 2000, for the Bargain Bin.

Zulu (1964) Diamond Films :: Paramount Pictures / EP: Joseph E. Levine / P: Stanley Baker, Cy Endfield / AP: Basil Keys / D: Cy Endfield / W: John Prebble, Cy Endfield / C: Stephen Dade / E: John Jympson / M: John Barry / S: Stanley Baker, Michael Caine, Jack Hawkins, Ulla Jacobsson, James Booth, Nigel Green

Drive-In (1976)

The Texas Film Commission was founded in 1971 to "encourage the orderly development of the film, television, and multi-media production industry in Texas in order to utilize the state's vast array of natural, human, and economic resources which are uniquely suitable for that industry." (Taken from the TFC website.)

But aside from helping to find a distributor for Tobe Hooper and The Texas Chain Saw Massacre (1973), the only film I'm familiar with that they actually helped to finance was Rod Amateau's Drive-In (1976).

Looking to cash in on the success of America Graffiti (1973) -- and perhaps give disaster king Irwin Allen a poke in the eye, Amateau's film is a one day exposé on small town life somewhere in the Texas panhandle, focusing on an eclectic bunch of locals, whose separate plot threads finally collide at the Alamo Drive-In for the premiere of Executive Pictures' Disaster '76.

Amateau does a fairly credible job of juggling these overlapping story-lines -- teenage romance trying to blossom, a gang of thugs looking for some payback, a marriage proposal gone awry, and two boobs plotting to rob the evening box-office.

But he and cinematographer Robert Jessup (a protege of Larry Buchanan) do exponentially better when these subplots aren't getting in the way and the camera is allowed to just look around and soak up the atmosphere of a wild night at the Alamo (-- and earlier at the local roller rink):

Yeah, if the film has one definite weak spot, it's the script, which felt like a barely sketched outline scribbled on a napkin -- or more appropriately, a flattened popcorn box.

The blatant comedy relief isn't all that funny, and several running gags are beaten to death, buried, then dug back up, and beaten again, which kinda drowns out the genuine instances when something actually works.

Onscreen, the only familiar faces were Trey Wilson, who was hilarious in both Raising Arizona (1987) and Bull Durham (1988), and Gary Cavagnaro, who played my hero, Engleberg, in The Bad News Bears (1976); but Lisa Lemole steals the movie as the prized belle, who is fed up with her abusive boyfriend (the leader of the Widow Makers) and those who don't see who she is beyond her looks and sullied reputation.

As for Disaster '76, the film within the film, what brief glimpses we do get, it's a total hoot and a half.

Basically throw Airport '75 (1974), The Towering Inferno (1974), The Poseidon Adventure (1972), Earthquake (1974) and JAWS (1975) in a blender, and there you go -- though you might experience a retrospective cringe when the 747 crashes into a high rise, setting it on fire, trapping thousands, before the dam breaks and the giant shark gets involved. 

Drive-In also sports a killer country and western soundtrack, featuring the likes of The Statler Brothers, George Jones and Tammy Wynette; but just like with the running gags, several tracks are over-used and lose some luster the second or third time around.

Our local drive-in closed the summer before my 16th birthday some *gack* 30 years ago. And sadly, after a little digging, turns out the Alamo is also no longer with us. *sigh* 

However, there is a bit of a silver-lining / happy ending to this tale / review, when I managed to actually catch a meta screening of Drive-In at the Quasar Drive-In Theater outside Valley, NE, in the fall of 2023. The Quasar opened in 2021, a long gestating project that found a lot of momentum during the pandemic and it's a welcome throwback to a bygone era, which specializes in revival screenings.

So, what we have here, then, with Drive-In, no matter where you see it, is a great rustic time capsule of the mid-1970s with a rural twist on things long gone, whose earnestness both endears and overcompensates for all of its amateur faults. 

Thus and so, even though all evidence shows Drive-In just isn't very good, I think it's just great.

Originally posted on June 29, 2014, at Micro-Brewed Reviews.

Drive-In (1976) George Litto Productions :: Columbia Pictures / EP: George Litto / P: Alexandra Rose, Tamara Asseyev / AP: Harry N. Blum, Robert S. Bremson / D: Rod Amateau / W: Bob Peete / C: Robert C. Jessup / E: Bernard Caputo, Guy Scarpitta / M: Lee Osborne / S: Lisa Lemole, Glenn Morshower, Gary Lee Cavagnaro, Billy Milliken, Louis Zito, Gordon Hurst, Trey Wilson

The Broken (2008)

It's hard to discuss this movie without revealing any spoilers; thus and so, SPOILERS AHOY and all that from here on out. Ready? OK. Here we go...

Anyhoo, what I thought was being set up as a rehash of Carnival of Souls (1962) actually turned out to be a kinda-sorta fresh twist on Invasion of the Body Snatchers ( -- either 1956 or 1978, take your pick, they’re both fantastic). 

Here, writer and director Sean Ellis spins a tale of a woman (Headey) who spots her exact double on the streets of London, follows her to an apartment filled with pictures of herself and her family; a place she has never been and pictures she doesn't remember taking part in, and is so distraught by this freak encounter she flees the scene, then loses control of her car, and gets into a terrible accident.

Then, as she recovers, and her scattered and blocked memories of this traumatic event slowly piece themselves back together, the behavior of those closest to her appears to be off, strange, belligerent even -- one could even say they're acting exactly the mirror-opposite of themselves. 

And as our protagonist’s paranoia goes off the rails, she even goes so far as to claim her boyfriend is no longer the man she knew but something ... "else."  

Well, turns out she's right -- only the root cause is not alien invaders, per se, but an incursion by trans-dimensional beings who lurk on the other side of the mirror pane, who are now shattering their way through the glass, murdering their doubles, and taking over their lives. 

Sean Ellis.

Again, last warning on the SPOILERS as we reach the climax and the final twist, where our character's memories finally coalesce, and we discover that she was the invading double all along. 

Now, once you figure out the trajectory of the plot, The Broken (2008) holds no real surprises, though I did appreciate the original approach of this old sci-fi fable, telling it through the eyes of a defective duplicate, who was having some guilt issues over the homicidal assimilation process. 

There are also some truly effective uses of light and shadows, of spectral faces appearing in the dark and then solidifying, signaling the end of another victim.  

Probably doesn't hurt that mirrors kinda freak me out anyway, which I'm sure reflects greatly on my reaction to this movie. As always, your refraction rate may vary.  

Originally posted on March 26, 2016, at Micro-Brewed Reviews. 

The Broken (2008) Left Turn Films :: Ugly Duckling Films :: Gaumont International :: After Dark Films / EP: Franck Chorot / P: Lene Bausager / AP: Winnie Li, Yves Chevalier / LP: Marshall Leviten / D: Sean Ellis / W: Sean Ellis / C: Angus Hudson / E: Scott Thomas / M: Guy Farley / S: Lena Headey, Ulrich Thomsen, Melvil Poupaud, Michelle Duncan, Richard Jenkins