Word: fi
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Dates: during 1980-1989
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...aspect of show biz. His dad Ronald, mother Jane Wyman, stepmother Nancy, sister Maureen, step-siblings Patti Davis and Ron Jr. have all made movies, performed or done TV shows. Now the President's eldest son has made his own screen debut in Cyclone, a sci-fi adventure due out in January. Showing a knack for real-life irony, Reagan, 41, plays a bumbling CIA agent in pursuit of a supersophisticated motorcycle. "I kind of provide some comic relief," says Reagan, who previously sought fame as a speedboat racer. The movie "was a ton of fun. And because...
...audience devours Beehive like a three-foot hoagie. They may stand up and sing The Name Game ("Sarah, Sarah, bo barah, bonana fanna fo farah, fee fi mo marah . . . Sarah!"). They wallow in Lesley Gore's perky petulance ("It's my party and I'll cry if I want to") and sway to the Motown philosophizing of the Supremes ("Baby, baby, where did our love go?"). They thrill again to the eloquent plaint of the Shangri-Las ("Remember, walkin' in the sand") and the sly taunts of the Angels ("My boyfriend's back, he's gonna save my reputation...
...spice, or they're snorting talcum powder at story conferences. No other explanation will suffice for the appearance of these two new comedy- fantasy thrillers. As it happens, both films have popular, if not honorable, antecedents. The Fly is a free, gory and engaging remake of the 1958 sci-fi horror movie, directed by Kurt Neumann, about a scientist who tampers with nature and switches heads with a housefly. Howard the Duck is a bestial bloviation of Steve Gerber's Marvel comic books of the '70s. The first film expands and enriches its schlock source; the second turns a wiseacre...
...born in Canada, the son of an electrical engineer, and ended up in Brea, Calif., where he spent five semesters at local colleges, dropping out and eventually drifting into Corman's orbit. As adolescents, she was a reader, while he was a drawer, often of fantastic sci-fi visions. She liked "film," as he put it, while he was drawn to the "movies." And he has been heard to wonder if, in her Palm Springs days, she would have dated a boy from across the tracks, as he was. "There are no tracks in Palm Springs," she replies airily...
...with an ironic twist that can pass for 1980s modernism. We're so hip, we know that every movie thrill is a fraud. We know the technique behind each matte shot, each jive emotion. Perhaps the audience at some B-minus sci-fi thriller in the 1950s solemnly attended to the stilted dialogue, leaden performances and not-so-special effects. But today's cognoscenti find the dew of nostalgia on these pictures, then wink and say, "They're so bad, they're good." Smart directors stoke the trend with camp updates of the olden turkeys. In Tobe Hooper's remake...