Earlier today, I decided—after much procrastinating—to see the movie The Beaver. You may be thinking, “But Frank, why would you procrastinate about seeing a film that’s primary appeal was that it had a puppet?” The answer is its secondary appeal: Mel Gibson. Nothing quite takes the gloss off puppetry like combining it with a sadomasochistic asshole. But went I did, and discovered I did—it being Friday—the films playing at the theater had changed and The Beaver was no longer playing. My options were pretty much reduced to reading the big scary science book I just got or going to see the film that had replaced The Beaver: The Priest. Given that I figured that The Beaver was going to be dreck, the fact that I held the same opinion of The Priest did not really enter into my decision. I went to see The Priest.
This was my second time going to the “$3 for all shows” 3rd Street Cinema in Santa Rosa. The first time was to see the new Pirates of the Caribbean movie, only yesterday. Let me only say of it, quickly, that I thought it was probably the best of the bunch. But I will have to see it at least one more time. There are obvious advantages to it: out goes Orlando Bloom, in comes Ian McShane; there was more Jack Sparrow than in any of the other films; and okay, I liked the bit between the Christer and the mermaid! More to the point, however: the 3rd Street Cinema put Pirates in its best theater. It even had THX sound, although after getting used to the Roxy Stadium 14’s sound system, it sounded pretty puny and pathetic. The Priest, on the other hand, was probably put in their worst theater. It had no THX. No Dolby. And it showed, if you will forgive me: even sitting at the front of the theater, I could make out a maximum of 70% of the dialog, and it was probably closer to 50%.
I actually had a rather good time watching The Priest because it was like a mystery. I kept trying to figure out if the filmmakers meant to make such a funny movie. I learned the answer about an hour into this just short of hour and a half opus.[1] That is the point at which the character “Black Hat”[2] pretends to conduct the vampire raid on Jericho. That was clearly meant to be funny—and it was. But it also meant that the rest of it was not meant to be funny. I suppose I should have know: I was the only one in the theater laughing.
I was not laughing because it was bad. It is just that the film is so unrelentingly serious about a subject that is just plain silly. But The Priest is not alone in this. Just about any post-apocalyptic film is. At first, it reminded me of Judge Dredd (also based on a comic). But Judge Dredd, despite its art direction, does have a sense of humor. It didn’t take long before I found a better match: Warrior of the Lost World. Or perhaps Mad Max.[3] I appreciate an artist’s commitment to his material, but that’s the thing about it: if it doesn’t work, people will laugh. And this film pulled out all the stops. I was in a good mood, so I felt entertained rather than assaulted. But it could easily have been the opposite.
But who can really complain for three bucks? Three bucks?! The 3rd Street Cinema in Santa Rosa. I can forgive a whole lot—and get a hot dog—for that price. Oh my!
[1] I kept thinking about the director’s cut of the film Kate & Leopold. At the beginning, Kate defends here profession of “market research” by saying, among other things, “We make bad films shorter!” The irony of this scene being cut from the film is priceless. In fact, the irony that the whole film was savagely cut is priceless, even though I would say the director’s cut is better (not saying a lot). Anyway, it is clear that The Priest was meant to be about a half-hour longer.
[2] This film is bad about character names. Another major character was named “Salesman” because, you know, he was a salesman. And the title character is named “Priest” because, you know, he’s a priest. Ditto for the priestess. I guess it is because this film is based on a comic book. It must be a kids’ thing. But this kids’ thing attracted a lot of talent: “Salesman” was played by Brad Dourif.
[3] This brings us full circle to Mel “cut off your arm with this hacksaw” Gibson. This makes me think that the reason I didn’t laugh all the way through Mad Max is the psychopath at its center. I am obviously not talking about George Miller—for God’s sake, the man went on to make Babe: Pig in the City. No, I am talking about that Mad Max guy: you could tell that the actor had more than an actor’s interest in the part. For the record, Mad Max is a dreadful film—just not one I would laugh at.
