Hello folks, and welcome on back to Wrong Every Time. Today I’ve got a motley collection of films for you all, ranging from pulpy scifi spectacles to a mid-century classic, and even a buddy film starring a dog. It’s been a fairly busy week both in films and elsewhere, as I managed to munch through two of my ambitious backlog projects last week, thereby dragging myself a few inches closer to being genuinely current on my current projects. It’s still a distant dream, but I’m nonetheless proud of my progress so far this year, and can’t wait to share more of these big articles with all of you. Anyway, enough patting myself on the back, let’s break down some films!

Our next screening was a repeat viewing for me, as one of my housemates hadn’t seen the surprisingly satisfying Pitch Black. The film stars Vin Diesel as Riddick, a notorious killer who’s currently being transported back to prison. Unfortunately, a fleet of micro-asteroids send Riddick’s transport vessel tumbling onto a hostile planet, where he and his fellow passengers will have to make do with limited supplies and three punishing suns. And that’s just during the daylight – for when those suns are at last blocked by an eclipse, the planet’s underground terrors take flight.

Everything about Pitch Black feels like a hokey B-movie, and it does indeed possess plenty of that energy, but the film’s generosity of setup and payoff is undeniable. Stealing broadly and effectively from the Alien franchise, Pitch Black spends its first act wallowing in the mistrust between survivors while quietly setting up the board and stakes of the second, then swerves to offer an alien threat that’s genuinely horrifying.

Vin Diesel is at his best here, his voice smoky and lethargic as he explains just how terribly everyone is going to die. He manages a difficult balancing act of appearing to be the film’s monster through its first act, then turning just cuddly enough to convince as an antihero when the true monsters emerge. My biggest quibble with the film regards the direction – David Twohy can get in his own way at times, slipping into a ‘90s music video style that only mostly fits Pitch Black’s comic book tone. Still, effective space horror movies are surprisingly rare once you step beyond Alien, and Pitch Black is a generous and fun one.

Urged on by the success of that repeat viewing, we then continued with The Chronicles of Riddick, which attempts the improbable task of turning Riddick into a Paul Atreides-like messianic figure. As such, it largely dispenses with the horror elements of Pitch Black in favor of galaxy-spanning political drama, with mixed results. The film is undeniably much creakier than its predecessor in terms of its scene-by-scene momentum, and overly busy in terms of its cast and worldbuilding, but it still finds time for Pitch Black-reminiscent highlights like “Riddick versus an entire prison’s worth of enemies” and “the heroes must race against a seven hundred degree dawn.” Unfortunately, Twohy’s directorial ambitions have only gotten more misguided in the time since the last film, as Riddick’s action scenes are utterly drowned in Bourne-style camera cuts. Pitch Black I’d recommend to general audiences, but I’m sad to say this one’s only for committed Riddickheads.

Next up was a classic I’ve had recommended to me a few times now, the ‘55 comedy musical The Court Jester. The film stars Danny Kaye as Hubert Hawkins, a minstrel who dreams of fighting alongside the noble outlaw the Black Fox (essentially Robin Hood, except guarding an infant king instead of waiting for a crusading one), but who currently seems fit only to entertain the Fox’s men. Fortune strikes when, on a mission with his beloved captain Jean, he finds himself with the opportunity to become the despotic king’s new court jester. Through this ploy, he hopes to unlock a secret route into the castle for the rebels, while simultaneously navigating the plots of advisors, princesses, and witches at the royal court.

If that sounds like a busy stew of variables, you really should see this marvelous film in action. Kaye himself seems bewildered by all the plots and counterplots he gets involved in, some of them even unbeknownst to himself (the resident witch’s hypnosis powers frequently offer him a burst of uncharacteristic bravado). And yet the whole production seems as deft and graceful as its dance numbers, threads spiraling and weaving while always prioritizing wit and wonder.

Kaye is a physical comedian of the highest order, snapping between buffoonery and grace as easily as Jackie Chan or Steve Martin. The script is a marvel of wit and momentum, maintaining a clear tempo through its poetic twists and repeated “get it – got it – good”s. And the secondary cast is delightful, with Glynis John in particular clearly having immense fun in the role of Kaye’s murder-happy lover. I’ve got nothing but praise for The Court Jester; it’s an immensely charming comedy from start to finish, and a thoroughly well-rounded time at the movies.

Our next viewing was Island of Terror, a ‘66 British horror film featuring Peter Cushing and a whole island’s worth of nasty bone-eating slug monsters. The film builds suspense quite effectively through its first act, as lab experiments bear unknown yet ominous fruit, bodies deprived of their bones are discovered, and Cushing and his scientific companions are hastily sent for. Unfortunately, the reveal of the monsters in all their early Dr. Who-villain glory significantly diminishes the film’s sense of danger, leaving it up to the main cast to maintain a feeling of urgency. Always good to see Cushing, and the effects for the bone-deprived bodies are actually quite nice, but Island of Terror’s creature designs shift it from “genuinely effective horror film” to “interesting artifact of horror films past.”

Last up for the week was Dog, a recent release starring Channing Tatum as Jackson Briggs, a former Army Ranger who suffers from PTSD and consistent migraines, but still hopes to return to active duty. After repeated entreaties to his former commander, he eventually gets a deal: escort his former partner’s military dog Lulu to that partner’s funeral, then turn the dog in to be euthanized. After that, he will at last be cleared for service.

Of course, anyone who’s ever watched a single movie can probably guess how that goes. Though its buddy comedy and road trip roots are obvious, Dog rises on the strength of its emotional drama, with Channing Tatum offering a convincing portrait of a half-broken man attempting to reckon with his past and future. It’s clear from the start that both Briggs and Lulu have been equally scarred by their service, and in many ways remain tethered to the battlefield – the difference is, Briggs wishes to reclaim a lost past, while Lulu possesses hope for a more peaceful future.

Briggs’ regular refrain of “rangers always end up finding a place to die” speaks to the thread uniting them, the reality that they are both animals waiting to be put down. Across a series of rambling vignettes that involve tantric massages (the film gets in a fair set of Portlandia jokes), impromptu weed farming standoffs, and several visits to lost family, Briggs and Lulu come to some kind of mutual understanding, shedding many hard-fought tears along the way. Dog is not revelatory, but it’s earnest and compassionate and well-executed, presenting a convincing ex-soldier with scars that impact but do not define him, thereby allowing the consequences of war to speak for themselves. An altogether effective road drama.