Bovie Movie

Joe Dante directed this satirical action-comedy about talking tech toys accidentally juiced-up with military microchips. After the defense industry firm Globotech takes over a small toy company, Heartland Play Systems’ CEO Gil Mars (Denis Leary) gives the green light to develop a new line of action figures, requesting an upgrade to more realistic figures from Heartland toy designers Larry Benson (Jay Mohr) and fumbling Irwin Wayfair (David Cross). Mars wants toys that act like the ones in TV commercials. The results are fierce fighting figures, the Commando Elite, programmed to seek out and destroy the kindly alien-like Gorgonites. In an effort to make the toys as natural as possible, Benson inserts Globotech’s most powerful military computer chips. Meanwhile, in quiet Winslow Corners, Ohio, toy-store owner Stuart Abernathy (Kevin Dunn) and his 15-year-old son Alan (Gregory Smith) are stuck in a failing business, so when Heartland truckdriver Joe (Dick Miller) stops by with the Commando and Gorgonite toys, Alan is convinced they will be hot sellers, commenting, “Maybe this store will finally make a little money.” With blistering blows to their blister packs, the Commandos burst out, receive orders from their leader Chip Hazard (voice of Tommy Lee Jones) and ready for an all-out assault on the Gorgonites. When the Gorgonite leader Archer (voice of Frank Langella) begins communicating with Alan, it causes the Commandos to perceive humans as another enemy, simply by their association with the “Gorgonite scum,” so an attack on the Abernathy house begins. Unfortunately, the Gorgonites can offer only limited assistance, since they have been programmed to lose. The film combines animatronics, puppetry, and computer animation. The Commando Elite voices include surviving actors from Robert Aldrich’s The Dirty Dozen (1967), while the Gorgonite voices reunited several This Is Spinal Tap (1983) cast members. A dedication to Phil Hartman (the voice of Phil Fimple) after the closing credits features a brief Hartman outtake.

The classic 1955-59 sitcom The Phil Silvers Show (also known as “You’ll Never Get Rich” in its first few episodes) became this high concept comedy with an all-star cast. Steve Martin stars as U.S. Army Master Sergeant Ernest G. Bilko, a conniving motor pool supervisor who uses his position to finance various get-rich-quick schemes, including illegal gambling, at a Kansas military base. His commanding officer, Colonel Hall (Dan Aykroyd) is mostly oblivious to Bilko’s antics. Trouble arrives when the master sergeant’s old rival, Major Thorn (Phil Hartman), appears. It seems that Thorn, the butt of several past Bilko capers, is eager to settle the score by spearheading a review of Bilko’s records and stealing away his fianc?e Rita (Glenne Headley), who may have been left at the altar one too many times. At the same time, military engineer Major Ebersole (Austin Pendleton) is testing a new high-tech “hover tank” that may not be quite ready for deployment. Directed by light comedy specialist ($Jonathan Lynn, who brought a similar touch to My Cousin Vinny (1992) and Greedy (1994), the updated Sgt. Bilko costarred Cathy Silvers, daughter of the TV show’s late star, as Lieutenant Monday.

When speaking of Laurel and Hardy’s first feature film Pardon Us, Stan Laurel described it as “a three-story building on a one-story base”-in other words, a 2-reeler stretched and bloated into 6 reels. Much the same could be said of Blake Edwards’s Blind Date, though one wonders if Stan Laurel could have even gotten two reels out of its wafer-thin premise. At the outset, yuppie Bruce Willis is warned not to let his blind date, southern belle Kim Basinger, drink anything stronger than lemonade. So what does Willis do the first chance he gets? That’s right, kids; he plies poor Basinger with champagne. And then he wonders why his life rapidly goes to hell in a handbasket. In his first starring movie role, Bruce Willis manages to find all sorts of nuances in his one-note role, while Kim Basinger is very funny when she’s blotto-at least, for the first five minutes or so. John Laroquette costars as a character straight out of a 1920s bedroom farce; he’s also pretty good, even though his dialogue is numbingly unamusing. Blake Edwards is famous for his ability to make a lot out of a little…but there has to be a limit somewhere.