POD 366, EP. 82: ROGER MITCHELL OF “ZARDOZ SPEAKS TO YOU” SPEAKS TO US
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Quick links/Discussed in this episode:
Buy “Zardoz Speaks To You! How a Classic Movie was Created, Died, and Was Born Again” by this week’s guest, Roger Mitchell
The Making of Zardoz Facebook page
Chronicles of a Wandering Saint (2023): An Argentinian woman stages a fake miracle, but real miracles (or at least, inexplicable events) soon follow. The well-reviewed magical realist feature with comedy elements arrives on VOD this week. Buy or rent Chronicles of a Wandering Saint on Fandango at Home (formerly Vudu) or Apple+.
Crumb Catcher (2024): A newlywed couple are accosted by a couple of entrepreneurs intent on getting them to invest in their get-rich-quick device: a crumb catcher. “Absurd” and “odd” are some of the words turning up in reviews; the indie arrives on VOD this week. Buy or rent Crumb Catcher.
Megalopolis second trailer: Not sure if this is an “oops!” moment or part of a marketing scheme that has often stressed how bizarre this entire production was, but Lionsgate has withdrawn their second trailer for Francis Ford Coppola‘s Megalopolis after Variety pointed out that the (negative) critics’ quotes it presented for The Godfather and other films were made up. Roger Ebert himself called this trailer “one of the biggest embarrassments ever released by a major studio,” while Pauline Kael said the scandal “stinks like a wedge of stale Camembert fermented in sun for three days.” Of course, the controversial trailer itself will live forever on YouTube. Hollywood Reporter describes the fiasco’s aftermath.
The Other Laurens [L’autre Laurens] (2023): The official plot description reads, “A private detective [is] forced to face the ghosts of his past when his niece asks him to investigate her father’s death.” Sounds conventional, yet it catches our attention because Yellow Veil is releasing it, and one reviewer calls it “Lynchian” and “a strange film” while The Hollywood Reporter refers to “bits of dark comedy and weirdness.” The Other Laurens official site.
Undergods (2020): Read Giles Edwards’ festival review. A pair of corpse-collectors ride around a dystopian ruined city relating their strange dreams in this dreamy dystopian anthology film that finally arrives on a bare-bones Blu-ray four years after release. Buy Undergods.
WHAT’S IN THE PIPELINE:
We may have a surprise guest (or guests) lined up for our next Pod 366, but in any case, Giles will be back with Greg to discuss the week’s news and releases. In other YouTube content, having cleared up a copyright misunderstanding that delayed its posting for more than a month, Pete Trbovich‘s Weird View Crew returns to cover Hollywood’s campy critical flop Dick Tracy (1990). In written reviews, Shane Wilson wisely takes John Huston‘s 1979 adaptation of Flannery O’Connor’s Wise Blood out of the reader-suggested queue; Giles Edwards catches Crumb Catcher (see above); and Gregory J. Smalley ambles off to see Chronicles of a Wandering Saint (also above). Onward and weirdward!
CAPSULE: DOGMAN (2023)
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DIRECTED BY: Luc Besson
FEATURING: Caleb Landry Jones, Jojo T. Gibbs, Lincoln Powell
PLOT: A boy, imprisoned for years in a dog cage by his sadistic father, grows up understandably misanthropic, preferring the company of canines.

COMMENTS: Luc Besson began his career in greatness with a string of three cult hits—La Femme Nikkita (1990), The Professional (1994), and The Fifth Element (1997)—before settling into mediocrity in his later years with the overblown sci-fi spectacles Lucy (2014) and Valerian and the City of a Thousand Planets (2017). After taking five years off from serious filmmaking to fight a rape charge—of which he was cleared in 2023—Besson fans might hope for a return to form with DogMan. This is not that, but it is a remarkably eccentric effort.
DogMan has one big asset that carries it over its rough patches: star Caleb Landry Jones, who throws himself into the role of dog Doug. Under interrogation, the unflappable Jones is unfailingly polite, calm, confident, weary, and only slightly menacing. The script requires him to repress his sadness when wooing a Broadway star, wield a sawed-off shotgun while wearing and evening dress and leg braces, and lip-sync Edith Piaf, all of which he does without a trace of irony. His relationship with his dozens of canine co-stars is remarkably matter-of-fact: he doesn’t dote on them like a pet owner, but treats them as comrades—while remaining the alpha and refusing to let them steal his scenes. Plus, he looks great in drag.
While Jones is steady, the script is another matter. A man who has a telepathic connection to super-intelligent dogs, I can buy. That’s magical realism. But when the police detain this man after an illegal warrantless vehicle search reveals nothing incriminating, just so a non-court-appointed psychiatrist can elicit a bunch of flashbacks? That’s lazy writing. The script is full of unanswered questions and depends on every character doing not what makes sense for their own interests, but whatever will advance the predetermined plot. In some ways, the story feels like it could have come out of a 19th century novel: man raised by dogs, seeking revenge, cursed with a romantic affliction (he can walk, but if he walks too much he might die). But it’s also all over the place: by turns, it’s a serious child abuse drama, a dimly-lit action thriller, a romance, a bizzaro heist movie, and even a sort of antihero-superhero flick, like 101 Dalmatians meets Joker. The lack of narrative rigor reinforces the idea that DogMan is really a gussied-up b-movie with art-house pretensions: a dramatic medium for delivering scenes like a mastiff munching on a gangster’s crotch. But, sloppy script and wavering tone aside, DogMan has just enough crazy energy and gonzo passion to save itself from being a disaster. Any movie with Jones as a wheelchair-bound, Shakespeare-quoting, asexual drag queen who communicates telepathically with dogs is likely to have at least a little oddball appeal.
WHAT THE CRITICS SAY:
APOCRYPHA CANDIDATE: ZEBRAMAN (2004)
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DIRECTED BY: Takashi Miike
FEATURING: Shô Aikawa, Kyôka Suzuki, Naoki Yasukôchi, Kôen Kondô, Ren Ôsugi
PLOT: An inept 3rd-grade teacher with heroic aspirations becomes Zebraman, a superhero from a cancelled 1978 television show.

WHY IT MIGHT MAKE THE APOCRYPHA: Takashi Miike goes all in with Zebraman, pushing everything—buffoonery, low budget violence, conspiracy, and, erm, eye-catching costumery—to their extremes, while remaining family-friendly and building to an in-your-face zebraction climax which must be zeen to be zelieved.
COMMENTS: All told, Equus quagga is not an animal to take seriously. Its mane lacks the nobility found in fellow members of the genus; the striping confounds; and they spend their days nibbling grass, hoping not to get killed. These traits, however, lend themselves perfectly to Ichikawa (I’ll spare you his official “-san“), an ungainly overseer of third-graders with closet aspirations of middling superhero status. But before you look a gift-zebra in the mouth, consider the sources: director Takashi Miike, forger of god-level violence and oddities, and screenwriter Kankurô Kudô, whose flirtations with the absurd would culminate in the Mole Song shenanigans. Through their powers combined, we’ve got a lot of weird and wacky crammed into an ungainly combatant who’s out “Striping Evil!”
ZEBRA DOUBLE-KICK!
Recently attempting to explain the narrative to a pair of innocent bystanders, I quickly realized that the mounting ridiculousness mounted even more quickly than I had at first surmised. There is a secret Japanese government organization concerned about an alien infestation; its head agent is a suave ladykiller, suffering from a case of crabs. Speaking of crabs, there’s a serial killer on the loose, with crab headgear and brandishing a pair of 10-inch shears in each hand. Speaking of shears, there’s that third-grade teacher toiling away on a DIY Zebraman costume, working from his memory of a television show which was cancelled after seven episodes. Speaking of the television show, the new student at the school also knows about Zebraman, and kindles the would-be vigilante in his teacher. Speaking of vigilante, the school’s principal has formed a security group of school staff to guard against an unspecified danger which appears to be slowly overwhelming the city. (Spoiler Alert: it’s aliens! Little, green, bulbous, adorable aliens.)
ZEBRA CYCLONE!
The premise beggars belief, but Miike and Kudô go all in. Every player is on form, and Zebraman has almost a family drama or character study feel to it. The disillusioned super-agent wants a cause worth fighting for. The new kid, unable to walk after a mysterious incident, wants hope in the impossible. And the principal desperately seeks atonement for his sins. When Ichikawa emerges as Zebraman, he gets lost on his way to the new kid’s house, but hears a cry for help—and suddenly the powers he’s been mimicking (badly) become real. His hair springs up, unsolicited, and he leaves hoof-mark kicks in a dastardly crab-man. As he combats greater dangers, the government agents hone in on their extraterrestrial targets, eventually capturing one and bringing it back to their steam bath/observation lab.
ZEBRA BOMBER!
So much silliness, so much heart, so much drama, so many bad costumes, dumb songs, and gloopy aliens. Just when you expect your head to not explode, Miike pulls the trigger on the finale. The city is spared a neutron bomb drop, but at the cost of a magical display of bombastic action that will leave you shocked and moved. Zebraman somehow manages to achieve a silly charm greater even than its inspirational beast.
WHAT THE CRITICS SAY:
IT CAME FROM THE READER-SUGGESTED QUEUE: THE APPOINTMENT (1982)
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DIRECTED BY: Lindsay C. Vickers
FEATURING: Edward Woodward, Jane Merrow, Samantha Weysom, John Judd
PLOT: Ian informs his daughter Joanne that he will be forced to miss her upcoming violin concert; Joanne takes the news poorly, and terrible dreams and mysterious occurrences ensue.

COMMENTS: The Appointment is one of those movies that I’d seen before seeing it, thanks to the pervasiveness of memes. The film’s climactic car crash has been excised and circulated on the web as a bizarre mishmash of extreme closeups of screeching tires, unconvincing steering wheel acting, and a downright gymnastic final moment on the road before the car plunges over the side of a cliff. It’s absurd in isolation, but a notable demonstration of the crucial role of context. Restored to its surroundings, what seemed funny is revealed to be tragic, what was ridiculous is horrifically unavoidable.
The Appointment stands out for being so irrepressibly British. Not merely in its origins, with writer/director Vickers taking his first and only spin in the lead director’s chair after a career as an assistant with Hammer Films, a pastoral country home tailor made for a Britbox mystery series, and a budget bankrolled by the pension fund of the British Coal Board. Not even due to the casting of the quintessentially English, pre-Equalizer post-Wicker Man Woodward, or Weysom’s droopy voice that sounds like a Mike Myers character. No, the thing that makes The Appointment a cinematic version of a “Keep Calm and Carry On” poster is the ongoing and concerted effort to depress the stakes and make this horrific situation as mannered and emotionless as possible.
In many respects, Brian De Palma’s Carrie could be seen as a similar film, with telekinetic powers in the hands of a teenage protagonist confused by oncoming womanhood. But in the hands of De Palma (and original author Stephen King), the scenario is laden with intense drama; the potent subjects of acceptance and rejection fuel cataclysmic events. What The Appointment brings to the party is that classically British sentiment that says, “What if all that, but with everyone making a heroic effort to avoid talking about anything unpleasant?” Joanne’s possible supernatural abilities take a backseat to what the film considers a more compelling subject: a decent middle-aged man beleaguered by the conflicting demands of work and family. Consider that the most intense moment in the film involves a father walking past his daughter’s room, stopping outside the door, and standing motionless for many long seconds while both father and daughter wait for something to happen. Nothing does, and yet with the weight of repressed feelings and damaged psyches, the moment hits as hard as a bucket of pig’s blood.
That doorway scene serves as a litmus test for the viewer; you get to decide just what’s been going on between them, and how distasteful it is. But there are other signs that the rot runs deep in this family. Merrow petulantly complains that her husband ignores her in favor of their daughter, a sentiment he ratifies by absentmindedly complaining that she’s hogging the sheets. There’s the event that calls Woodward away in the first place, an unexplained inquest in which he must testify in place of his (mysteriously) absent business partner about the events that led to an employee (mysteriously) dying. And that’s the say nothing of the prologue, an effectively shocking scene—that almost seems to have been flown in from another movie—in which a music student two years prior is violently attacked by an invisible force. Death is in the air. Perhaps young Joanne doesn’t come by her covetous rage honestly.
The Appointment goes exactly where it intends to, never straying from its course. This deprives the film of suspense, but it also gives it an unsettling feeling of inevitability. Ian repeatedly tells his daughter that he has no ability to change his plans, and this happens to be true; his fate is set. His dreams and those of his wife predict the circumstances of his demise. Both his own car and its replacement acquire similar damage, as if to ensure that there is no avenue for escape. Time itself is against him; moments that should pass in a heartbeat stretch out before us. Woodward is constantly out of sync with the clocks in his house, and his watch stops working during his drive (before he loses it entirely). That car crash which seemed sloppily edited turns out to be deliberately extended beyond linear time, showing every element of the incident from multiple angles and perspectives and lingering in the moment past what one would reasonably expect. The Appointment is about 10 minutes of story and 80 minutes of mood, but that’s less a shortcoming and more a choice.
The title ends up being the key to the whole film. Woodward has an appointment with death, a fact the film elides to preserve some degree of suspense (and to sidestep litigation from the estate of Agatha Christie). In some respects, that feels like a cheat, like a shaggy dog story that takes an awfully long time to reach its punchline, and with suggestions of more substantial plotlines that never quite materialize. But The Appointment has an almost noble focus on its primary aim, to capture the exquisite discomfort of watching every detail of the last 24 hours of a man’s life as he goes about it in blissful ignorance. Show me the meme that can do that.
WHAT THE CRITICS SAY:
(This movie was nominated for review by Morgan, who remarked “it begins with an eerie opening and leads into a chilling accident sequence, one that had me muttering “W…T…F……. Truly a visual wonder.” Suggest a weird movie of your own here.)
![DogMan [Blu-ray]](https://m.media-amazon.com/images/I/41yPb4oNKLL._SL500_.jpg)
![Zebraman: Ultimate Z-Pack [Blu-ray]](https://m.media-amazon.com/images/I/510hv+i8ftL._SL500_.jpg)
