I SAW DON'T SAY IT

 

I saw a lovely movie called Don't Say It. I sought it because it features one of my favorite performers, Maria (The Rita Guida Show) Paris, who also costars in the engaging, western set, Gunfight at Rio Bravo and Taken from Rio Bravo, which I've reviewed for Bizarrechats. With that said, there's nothing at all bizarre about Don't Say It, beyond its generous use of daydreams, and even then, those are underscored by frank reality.

Directed by Stephen Ward and written by Rich Grosso, Jessica Abrams and P.J. Marino, the movie is constructed in the humble style of Marty and Crossing Delancey, in which two disenchanted individuals find each other, as they recall the missteps of their lives. 

Pat Leone, portrayed by the aforementioned Grosso, is an amiable, Ralph Kramden-ish deli worker, who almost hit it big as a restauranteur, only to see his aspirations crash and burn. He now leans on his brother for employment, lamenting the string of disappointments that he's prompted, not only for himself, but his ex-wife, Jane (Paris) and their daughter, Dina (Jena Fakroddin). 

On the other side of the lonely-heart coin, there's Lara Doyle, portrayed by Victoria Kelleher, a diner hostess with a penchant for painting and a prolonged sadness that makes her think she doesn't deserve the good life: a notion entrenched by her divorce.   

Pat and Lara are reminded of their foibles through their reveries, some of which are funny, others painful. For Pat, Jane dominates their center, surfacing in the most condescending ways whenever he's tempted to make a bold move. For Lara, it's the anchor of her favorite newscast, played by the dry-witted Stuart Fratkin, who slips from script to challenge her courage. 

Despite their low esteem, Pat and Lara do give their relationship a heartfelt try, but because of their insecurities, the road proves bumpy, leaving friends and family to fill the potholes. 

These friends and family are played with relatable charm by Joe Pacheco as Paul, Pat's practical brother; Jaylyn Bishop as Aubree, Paul's fawning wife; Tony Denison as Dr. Bernardi, Pat's to-the-point shrink; Viva Vinson as CJ, Pat and Lara's cupid songstress; Megan Haley Ehrenberg as Indigo, Lara's sprightly coworker; Eric Edwards as Harry, Lara's affable boss; Travis Stolp as Roger, Lara's ex; Lisa Foiles as Rita, Roger's trophy wife; Delores Deluce as Margery, a picky patron; Jerry Hauk as Murray, Margery's reticent spouse; Spencer Breslin as Mikey, Pat's deli protégé; in addition to Paul Parducci, Noel Elgarby and co-writer Marino as Pat's poker pals. 

For Paris' recurring Jane, the actress bestows a fascinating, twofold performance, which binds events in an offbeat but ideal way, working as both a nagging apparition and a catalyst for Pat's redemption. Jane's duality is, therefore, allegorical, since it allows this underdog fable to move from wallowing in sorry to accepting responsibility for one's fate, demonstrating that the biggest obstacles in life are often imagined, and the worst thing one can do is hesitate when opportunities knock. 

Many romance/relationship films fail because they're rooted in fairyland insincerity. What makes Don't Say It click is that it caters to real people: the ambivalent, flawed and starry-eyed ones. On this basis, it's worth a view, and once viewed, its compassion will likely inspire numerous revisits.

(Don't Say It is available on Amazon Prime and other streaming services.)

I saw Taken From Rio Bravo

Hollywood Storm has given Gunfight at Rio Bravo a sprawling sequel, Taken from Rio Bravo, directed by Joe Cornet and scripted by Craig Hamann, from a story he fashioned with producer, Alexander Nevsky. As with Gunfight at Rio Bravo, Taken from Rio Bravo was inspired by the exploits of a historic hero, Ivan Turchaninov, aka John Basil Turchin, a Russian crusader and Union general in the Civil War, who Nevsky portrays.

For this formidable follow-up, a group of unsuspecting women, Cynthia Rothrock's Margaret, Irina Atonenko's Valerie and Kerry Goodwin's Jenny, are assaulted by a posse, prompted by James Chalke's sadistic Jack Watuku, a "part Comanche, part Kiowa ... part demon," skin-peddler who captures women for those heartless enough to own and abuse them. 

Though Margaret puts up a spirited fight, she's cut down, leaving Valerie and Jenny abducted by the outlaws. Naturally, Turchin is hellbent on rescuing the ladies, as is Cornet's Sheriff Vernon Kelly, who has hopes of settling down with his endearing Jenny. 

As the miles mount, Turchin and Kelly's quest proves a steadfast but arduous one, where they meet up with other weathered souls, including Don "The Dragon" Wilson's conscientious, Indian scout, Angel, and Tatiana Neva's enigmatic bounty hunter, Ellen Teal, but it's the evil Watuku who draws the men toward their fate at the Mexican border.

During the story's interludes, the distraught women, who are accompanied by Maria Paris' Angela, Madelyn Allen's Emily and Jon Mack's Diana, do their best to secure their sanity, but Watuku and his callous henchman, Cliff Owens' Haskell, establish a tyranny to turn one's blood cold. The conundrum only worsens when Watuku allows Sam Dobbin's seedy businessman, Wesley Garrett, to purchase the females. (Incidentally, it should be noted that Paris' role is, indeed, different from the one she plays in the previous chapter, but she does a wonderful job forging the distinction. Role multiplicity is a tradition in western-movie sagas, and I, for one, admire the artful dynamic when it's achieved: a sign of a well-seasoned thespian, if ever there was.) 

As the plot comes together, a showdown appears inevitable, but that inevitability also inserts an unsettling snag, as an old adversary, Matthias Hues' Hellhound leader, Ethan Crawley, re-enters the scene, complicating the situation in a way that neither Turchin or Kelly anticipated. 

Though Taken from Rio Brava is action-packed (a huge plus for this genre), it's also contemplative, as evidenced by a scene where Turchin and Kelly recall their harsh, Civil War assignments and woeful aftermaths. The same can be said of Angel's recollection on how Watuku's men assailed his family and murdered his wife. Even an early scene, where Robert Madrid's Doc Adams questions his ability to protect the town when Turchin and Kelly are away, resonates with an empathetic earnestness that lesser movies would bypass. (In an interesting but effective contrast, John Fallon's Samuel, the town undertaker, offers a nice dose of garrulous levity.) 

Taken from Rio Bravo also benefits from Sean Murray's crackling, Alex North-flavored score (augmented by Tatiana Neva's haunting, recurrent vocals) and Sam Wilkerson's sharp, consuming photography. Fight choreographer Art Camancho, who plays a brief but potent character, also deserves credit for making the movie's melees mean and credible. 

The bottom line: This is a terrific sequel, one that demands more acts, and why not? These characters are much too nuanced and way too valiant not to carry on. 

(Taken from Rio Bravo can be experienced at select cinemas and on Xumo Play.)

I saw Gunfight at Rio Bravo...

A new western blazes across the screen: Gunfight at Rio Bravo, directed/produced by Joe Cornet, written by Craig Hamann and helmed by bodybuilder thespian/producer, Alexander (Moscow Heat) Nevsky. 

The convincing, no-nonsense Nevsky plays a Russian gunfighter named Ivan Turchin, who's in actuality a former Union, brigadier general. He assists a by-the-book sheriff, played with stealthy valor by the aforementioned Cornet, and a heedful mayor, played with mercurial edge by Lee Dawson. Misfortune befalls the trio when they receive a stayover protagonist named Colonel Ethan Crawley, portrayed with icy contempt by Matthias (I Come in Peace) Hues. Crawley awaits his grudge-prone, Confederate, Hellhound gang to break him out of the town's humble jail: a sure-fire setup for disaster. 

The superb supplemental cast fortifies the leads, with John Marrs, Oliver Gruner, Curt Lambert, John Fallon, Christopher Beeman, Bill Fortenberry, Natalie Denise Sperl, Anna Ornis and Kerry Goodwin (among a number of effective backgrounders), enhancing the calamitous splendor. On special note, my ultra-talented, Facebook friend, Maria Paris (aka Rita Guida!), stands out as a beautiful but deceptive insider. 

The tension mounts as the story progresses, as any quality thriller should, nurturing all those fine traditions that western buffs love, where bravery, strength and duty rise to the forefront. Sean Murray's grand, ominous score augments these commendable traits, as does Sam Wilkerson's vibrant, in-sync cinematography. 

Cornet's direction and Cody Miller's editing are tight and trim as the movie weaves its many elements: something that most modern, Hollywood-peddled products fail at, if only to pad their running times. Gunfight at Rio Bravo paints an identifiable picture with a nuanced ensemble that adheres to the fable's unswerving purpose, all under ninety minutes. (BTW: Hamann's focused screenplay was inspired by the real-life, Union general, Ivan Vasilyevich Turchaninov/John Basil Turchin, who marched a bold, if not controversial path during the Civil War.) 

Gunfight at Rio Bravo is available for viewing through Amazon Prime, YouTube, Apple TV, Google Play, Vudu, Redbox and Roku. The movie can be purchased on disc, as well, through Shout! Studios. Embrace this fine, morality tale and come away a better person for it.