DVD, Blu-ray Movie Review

"The Stepfather"

By our guest blogger, Jeremy Wilkinson

This reviewer has not seen the 1987 version of "The Stepfather," so this review was written without preference for the original. That being said, the 2009 remake of the movie was a bomb--almost completely devoid of anything resembling “horror.”

The movie starts out on a strong note. The eponymous stepfather (Dylan Walsh) is shown shaving and showering before nonchalantly leaving a home full of corpses.  Sounds promising, but hopes are quickly dashed as the movie then turns into a paint-by-numbers horror film that fails to deliver any real fear.

The stepfather, now living under the alias David Harris, meets Susan Harding (Sela Ward) and they start a whirlwind romance. Susan’s son, Michael (Penn Badgley), returns from military school after she gets engaged to David. David tries to warm up to Michael, but Michael isn’t ready to trust the man yet. When odd occurrences happen around David, Michael becomes suspicious that David may not be who he says he is.

The acting in this movie is horrible. All of the characters are so bland, it’s hard to care about them. They also consistently choose to make poor decisions, apparently lacking even the most basic abilities of reason. The only truly likeable character in the whole movie is Susan’s sister. David is supposed to seem like ‘the perfect guy’ in places, but he lacks charm when he’s acting as such. He always seems to come off as slightly creepy, which makes one wonder why Susan is with him in the first place. If you want your villain to be a serial killer, able to insert himself into families because of his charisma, you should probably make sure the character actually has charisma.

In addition to the previous problems, David’s character is one of the flattest, uninteresting murderers to ever sneak onto the silver screen. It’s obvious he’s killed others, but the movie fails to properly explain the motivation behind his bloodlust. One of the trailers claims he’s ‘looking for the perfect family.’ That’s a little hard to get from the film because only passing references are made to this motivation. There’s so much the filmmakers could have drawn upon--the son was troubled, so he was sent away. Susan’s previous husband seems to have some anger issues. The stepfather is (supposed to be) looking for the perfect family. But, none of these issues are fully developed.

The movie tries to scare the audience by having David standing behind people when they turn around…and when they open doors or look up from swimming or are getting food. It ceases to be creepy after the second time and instead, he comes off as a mildly annoying ninja.

It was also decided (for some reason) that it would be a good idea to play foreboding music during half the movie--even when there is nothing creepy going on (such as when David is having lunch with Michael). It doesn’t seem like it’s building up to anything--it’s just there.

This movie is destined for DVD bargain bins. If you feel like you must see this movie, even out of morbid curiosity--don’t. It’s not worth your time.

Grade: F

View the trailer for "The Stepfather" below.  What are your thoughts?

DVD, Blu-ray Movie Review

"The Stepfather"

By our guest blogger, Jeremy Wilkinson

This reviewer has not seen the 1987 version of "The Stepfather," so this review was written without preference for the original. That being said, the 2009 remake of the movie was a bomb--almost completely devoid of anything resembling “horror.”

The movie starts out on a strong note. The eponymous stepfather (Dylan Walsh) is shown shaving and showering before nonchalantly leaving a home full of corpses.  Sounds promising, but hopes are quickly dashed as the movie then turns into a paint-by-numbers horror film that fails to deliver any real fear.

The stepfather, now living under the alias David Harris, meets Susan Harding (Sela Ward) and they start a whirlwind romance. Susan’s son, Michael (Penn Badgley), returns from military school after she gets engaged to David. David tries to warm up to Michael, but Michael isn’t ready to trust the man yet. When odd occurrences happen around David, Michael becomes suspicious that David may not be who he says he is.

The acting in this movie is horrible. All of the characters are so bland, it’s hard to care about them. They also consistently choose to make poor decisions, apparently lacking even the most basic abilities of reason. The only truly likeable character in the whole movie is Susan’s sister. David is supposed to seem like ‘the perfect guy’ in places, but he lacks charm when he’s acting as such. He always seems to come off as slightly creepy, which makes one wonder why Susan is with him in the first place. If you want your villain to be a serial killer, able to insert himself into families because of his charisma, you should probably make sure the character actually has charisma.

In addition to the previous problems, David’s character is one of the flattest, uninteresting murderers to ever sneak onto the silver screen. It’s obvious he’s killed others, but the movie fails to properly explain the motivation behind his bloodlust. One of the trailers claims he’s ‘looking for the perfect family.’ That’s a little hard to get from the film because only passing references are made to this motivation. There’s so much the filmmakers could have drawn upon--the son was troubled, so he was sent away. Susan’s previous husband seems to have some anger issues. The stepfather is (supposed to be) looking for the perfect family. But, none of these issues are fully developed.

The movie tries to scare the audience by having David standing behind people when they turn around…and when they open doors or look up from swimming or are getting food. It ceases to be creepy after the second time and instead, he comes off as a mildly annoying ninja.

It was also decided (for some reason) that it would be a good idea to play foreboding music during half the movie--even when there is nothing creepy going on (such as when David is having lunch with Michael). It doesn’t seem like it’s building up to anything--it’s just there.

This movie is destined for DVD bargain bins. If you feel like you must see this movie, even out of morbid curiosity--don’t. It’s not worth your time.

Grade: F

View the trailer for "The Stepfather" below.  What are your thoughts?

By our guest blogger, Jeremy Wilkinson

Prior to its release in 2008, “Repo! The Genetic Opera” put up two songs on their Web site to gain attention. The song "Zydrate Anatomy" was a dark, catchy song that set the bar a little high for the movie. The other song, “Mark it Up,” was sub-par. It was supposed to be comedic, but ended up being funny because it was awkward. Variance in quality is a major problem with the whole movie. Parts of it are done beautifully, while other parts falter.

The plot:  During the mid-21st century, organ failures become an epidemic. GeneCo, a company specializing in synthetic organs, rises up to give people the replacements they desperately need…albeit for a price. The organs work wonderfully, but if you don’t pay up, Repo Man comes to take back company property. Nathan (Anthony Stewart Head) is one of the Repo Men. He has a daughter, Shilo (Alexa Vega), who has a blood disease and he tries his best to keep it in check with medication. He orders her to stay in her room for her own good and tries to keep his dark job a secret. But she disobeys her father’s orders and tries to seek out a cure for herself.

This movie oozes with style, which is both a blessing and a curse. The costumes and sets look great. Everything just feels “cool.” The atmosphere sucks you into the film. However, the focus on style leaves less room for substance. One could see the film and ponder the dangers of rampant plastic surgery and mega corporations, but this movie isn't high art.

The film shows its variance in quality from the get go. When it begins, comic book panels tell the audience of the organ failures and GeneCo’s rise to power. It doesn’t look bad--in fact, it’s a neat way to fill in the viewer. But then we cut to a graveyard where Shilo is visiting her mother’s tomb and then encounters the GraveRobber (Terrance Zdunich). Based off his name, you can guess why he’s there. He ends up drawing attention to them by yelling out while there are cops nearby. That makes no sense and only serves as a plot device to get Shilo back in her bed. There are multiple head scratching moments like this.

"Repo!" stays true to its title by having the characters sing almost all of their dialogue. Parts of the film are bogged down due to poor songwriting. I often wished the film was a musical instead of an ‘opera.’ There are multiple lines that lose their effectiveness by being sung instead of spoken. In addition, some of the cast are not very good at singing (Paris Hilton, for example). Alexa Vega does her best and shows glimmers of real talent in places, but she seems to hold back with most of her singing. Paul Sorvino, who play GeneCo founder Rotti Largo, is the best of the bunch. But, again, great singing can’t make up for poor writing.

"Repo!" is a violent, stylized opera that impresses just as often as it fails. It doesn’t take itself too seriously, which is a saving grace for the film. But even then, it’s still not a great film. It’s the kind of film non-horror fans would consider a guilty pleasure at best. You need to be in the right mindset to enjoy the movie.


Grade for gorehounds and horror fans: B-
Grade for everyone else: D

By our guest blogger, Jeremy Wilkinson

Prior to its release in 2008, “Repo! The Genetic Opera” put up two songs on their Web site to gain attention. The song "Zydrate Anatomy" was a dark, catchy song that set the bar a little high for the movie. The other song, “Mark it Up,” was sub-par. It was supposed to be comedic, but ended up being funny because it was awkward. Variance in quality is a major problem with the whole movie. Parts of it are done beautifully, while other parts falter.

The plot:  During the mid-21st century, organ failures become an epidemic. GeneCo, a company specializing in synthetic organs, rises up to give people the replacements they desperately need…albeit for a price. The organs work wonderfully, but if you don’t pay up, Repo Man comes to take back company property. Nathan (Anthony Stewart Head) is one of the Repo Men. He has a daughter, Shilo (Alexa Vega), who has a blood disease and he tries his best to keep it in check with medication. He orders her to stay in her room for her own good and tries to keep his dark job a secret. But she disobeys her father’s orders and tries to seek out a cure for herself.

This movie oozes with style, which is both a blessing and a curse. The costumes and sets look great. Everything just feels “cool.” The atmosphere sucks you into the film. However, the focus on style leaves less room for substance. One could see the film and ponder the dangers of rampant plastic surgery and mega corporations, but this movie isn't high art.

The film shows its variance in quality from the get go. When it begins, comic book panels tell the audience of the organ failures and GeneCo’s rise to power. It doesn’t look bad--in fact, it’s a neat way to fill in the viewer. But then we cut to a graveyard where Shilo is visiting her mother’s tomb and then encounters the GraveRobber (Terrance Zdunich). Based off his name, you can guess why he’s there. He ends up drawing attention to them by yelling out while there are cops nearby. That makes no sense and only serves as a plot device to get Shilo back in her bed. There are multiple head scratching moments like this.

"Repo!" stays true to its title by having the characters sing almost all of their dialogue. Parts of the film are bogged down due to poor songwriting. I often wished the film was a musical instead of an ‘opera.’ There are multiple lines that lose their effectiveness by being sung instead of spoken. In addition, some of the cast are not very good at singing (Paris Hilton, for example). Alexa Vega does her best and shows glimmers of real talent in places, but she seems to hold back with most of her singing. Paul Sorvino, who play GeneCo founder Rotti Largo, is the best of the bunch. But, again, great singing can’t make up for poor writing.

"Repo!" is a violent, stylized opera that impresses just as often as it fails. It doesn’t take itself too seriously, which is a saving grace for the film. But even then, it’s still not a great film. It’s the kind of film non-horror fans would consider a guilty pleasure at best. You need to be in the right mindset to enjoy the movie.


Grade for gorehounds and horror fans: B-
Grade for everyone else: D

Editor's Note: NOTFlix It is a feature meant to draw attention to older films some readers might have missed, and might consider adding to their Netflix queue, or renting at their local DVD store. Unlike our Netflix It feature, NOTFlix It is designed to keep viewers far away from all the dogs that are out there. The following review of "Eye of the Beholder" is the original 1999 review. And you definitely should NOTFlix It.

If beauty is in the eye of the beholder, then so is trash, which is precisely what one beholds for nearly two hours during Stephan Elliott’s painfully dull, inept and ridiculous thriller, “Eye of the Beholder.”

The film has all the vision of a blinded Cyclops, all the flash of a burlap bag, all the cool sophistication of worn-out femme fatale.

It’s a pillaging Hun that references a wealth of other films, including Hitchcock’s “Vertigo” and “Rear Window,” Coppola’s “The Conversation,” Powell’s “Peeping Tom,” De Palma’s “Obsession,” and Besson’s “La Femme Nikita.”

But a crime has been committed here and that crime, as far as audiences are concerned, is dire: Elliott completely misses what made these other films work--a strong, literate script charged with interesting, fully developed and believable characters.

Unfortunately, nothing in “Beholder” is interesting, nothing is developed, nothing is believable.

As directed by Elliott, whose 1994, Academy Award-winning “The Adventures of Priscilla, Queen of the Desert” was a knockout, “Beholder” is an utter failure, a film that confounds from start to finish with its muddled script and sheer lack of understanding of what works in a thriller--and what doesn’t.

The film stars Ashley Judd as Joanna Eris, a wig-wearing psycho who murders her lovers for reasons that are never once made clear. Did they somehow cross her? Were they bad in bed? Did they criticize her wigs? Who can say why she kills--certainly not The Eye (Ewan McGregor), a British intelligence agent who literally lives in a belfry and who goes all doe-eyed over Joanna after he witnesses her stabbing her boyfriend to death.

Indeed, instead of exploring who Joanna is or why The Eye falls madly in love with her, the film is more interested in what Joanna wears, what glamorous city The Eye follows her to, what cliché the script can haul out next.

With k.d. lang on board in a silly, wooden performance as The Eye’s silly, wooden advisor, “Eye of the Beholder” is as lackluster as milquetoast, a dull, myopic waste of time that blatantly steals its audience’s cash and never should have been beheld at all.

Grade: F

Editor's Note: NOTFlix It is a feature meant to draw attention to older films some readers might have missed, and might consider adding to their Netflix queue, or renting at their local DVD store. Unlike our Netflix It feature, NOTFlix It is designed to keep viewers far away from all the dogs that are out there. The following review of "Eye of the Beholder" is the original 1999 review. And you definitely should NOTFlix It.

If beauty is in the eye of the beholder, then so is trash, which is precisely what one beholds for nearly two hours during Stephan Elliott’s painfully dull, inept and ridiculous thriller, “Eye of the Beholder.”

The film has all the vision of a blinded Cyclops, all the flash of a burlap bag, all the cool sophistication of worn-out femme fatale.

It’s a pillaging Hun that references a wealth of other films, including Hitchcock’s “Vertigo” and “Rear Window,” Coppola’s “The Conversation,” Powell’s “Peeping Tom,” De Palma’s “Obsession,” and Besson’s “La Femme Nikita.”

But a crime has been committed here and that crime, as far as audiences are concerned, is dire: Elliott completely misses what made these other films work--a strong, literate script charged with interesting, fully developed and believable characters.

Unfortunately, nothing in “Beholder” is interesting, nothing is developed, nothing is believable.

As directed by Elliott, whose 1994, Academy Award-winning “The Adventures of Priscilla, Queen of the Desert” was a knockout, “Beholder” is an utter failure, a film that confounds from start to finish with its muddled script and sheer lack of understanding of what works in a thriller--and what doesn’t.

The film stars Ashley Judd as Joanna Eris, a wig-wearing psycho who murders her lovers for reasons that are never once made clear. Did they somehow cross her? Were they bad in bed? Did they criticize her wigs? Who can say why she kills--certainly not The Eye (Ewan McGregor), a British intelligence agent who literally lives in a belfry and who goes all doe-eyed over Joanna after he witnesses her stabbing her boyfriend to death.

Indeed, instead of exploring who Joanna is or why The Eye falls madly in love with her, the film is more interested in what Joanna wears, what glamorous city The Eye follows her to, what cliché the script can haul out next.

With k.d. lang on board in a silly, wooden performance as The Eye’s silly, wooden advisor, “Eye of the Beholder” is as lackluster as milquetoast, a dull, myopic waste of time that blatantly steals its audience’s cash and never should have been beheld at all.

Grade: F

Editor's Note: NOTFlix It is a feature meant to draw attention to older films some readers might have missed, and might consider adding to their Netflix queue, or renting at their local DVD store. Unlike our Netflix It feature, NOTFlix It is designed to keep viewers far away from all the dogs that are out there. The following review of "Deuces Wild" is the original 2002 review. And you definitely should NOTFlix It.

Directed by Scott Kalvert. Written by Paul Kimatian and Christopher Gambale. 97 minutes. Rated R.

While it's doubtful that Scott Kalvert intended to create an instant camp classic with his hilarious film, "Deuces Wild," that's nevertheless what he pulled off--and what a hoot.

Set on a Hollywood back lot--excuse me, set in Brooklyn, N.Y., in the summer of 1958--the film is "West Side Story" without the songs, "The Lords of Flatbush" without the Fonz, "The Wanderers" without a map, a compass, or its own way.

It's a movie about two rival gangs whose swagger and strut are so incredibly exaggerated, what's amazing about the film isn't how bad it is, but that anyone here got through it without breaking a hip.

From start to bloody finish, "Deuces Wild" is an eye-popping exercise in excess and cliches, a melodramatic cheeseball festooned in black leather, white T-shirts and jeans that hits the screen with such misguided aplomb, it can't help but eventually burst apart like a thoroughly whacked piñata.

In the film, the good-guy Deuces and the bad-guy Vipers come to throws when the Vipers decide they want to start selling drugs in the Deuces' neighborhood. That's a big no-no for the Deuces, who lost a member of their gang--a scrappy kid named Alley Boy--to a drug-related death three years before.

Alley Boy's brother, Leon (Stephen Dorf), now king of the Deuces, is determined to avenge his brother's death by making certain that the Vipers don't put a crack pipe and a bong in every home.

The problem for Leon and his crew of brass knuckleheads? The Vipers, as led by Jimmy Pockets (Balthazar Getty) and the freshly paroled Marco (Norman Reedus), are being bankrolled by the local mob boss, Fritzy (Matt Dillon), who is very comfortable with the idea that the neighborhood kiddies should be addicted to smack.

Toss into this mix a rape, some gang violence shot in slow motion, and a love affair between Leon's brother Bobby (Brad Renfro) and a tough-as-tanks babe named Annie (Fairuza Balk)--who just happens to be a sister to one of the Vipers--and the tension, you can imagine, becomes enough to make these Deuces wild.

At my screening, there were moments when I was convinced I was seeing the film with a group of asthmatics-there were those who couldn't stop gasping at the absurdity. Apparently, even MGM knows it's dealing with a dog. "Deuces Wild" has been sitting on their shelves for two years. The fact that they waited to release it opposite "Spider-Man" says it all for how the studio itself views the movie.

Grade: D-

Editor's Note: NOTFlix It is a feature meant to draw attention to older films some readers might have missed, and might consider adding to their Netflix queue, or renting at their local DVD store. Unlike our Netflix It feature, NOTFlix It is designed to keep viewers far away from all the dogs that are out there. The following review of "Deuces Wild" is the original 2002 review. And you definitely should NOTFlix It.

Directed by Scott Kalvert. Written by Paul Kimatian and Christopher Gambale. 97 minutes. Rated R.

While it's doubtful that Scott Kalvert intended to create an instant camp classic with his hilarious film, "Deuces Wild," that's nevertheless what he pulled off--and what a hoot.

Set on a Hollywood back lot--excuse me, set in Brooklyn, N.Y., in the summer of 1958--the film is "West Side Story" without the songs, "The Lords of Flatbush" without the Fonz, "The Wanderers" without a map, a compass, or its own way.

It's a movie about two rival gangs whose swagger and strut are so incredibly exaggerated, what's amazing about the film isn't how bad it is, but that anyone here got through it without breaking a hip.

From start to bloody finish, "Deuces Wild" is an eye-popping exercise in excess and cliches, a melodramatic cheeseball festooned in black leather, white T-shirts and jeans that hits the screen with such misguided aplomb, it can't help but eventually burst apart like a thoroughly whacked piñata.

In the film, the good-guy Deuces and the bad-guy Vipers come to throws when the Vipers decide they want to start selling drugs in the Deuces' neighborhood. That's a big no-no for the Deuces, who lost a member of their gang--a scrappy kid named Alley Boy--to a drug-related death three years before.

Alley Boy's brother, Leon (Stephen Dorf), now king of the Deuces, is determined to avenge his brother's death by making certain that the Vipers don't put a crack pipe and a bong in every home.

The problem for Leon and his crew of brass knuckleheads? The Vipers, as led by Jimmy Pockets (Balthazar Getty) and the freshly paroled Marco (Norman Reedus), are being bankrolled by the local mob boss, Fritzy (Matt Dillon), who is very comfortable with the idea that the neighborhood kiddies should be addicted to smack.

Toss into this mix a rape, some gang violence shot in slow motion, and a love affair between Leon's brother Bobby (Brad Renfro) and a tough-as-tanks babe named Annie (Fairuza Balk)--who just happens to be a sister to one of the Vipers--and the tension, you can imagine, becomes enough to make these Deuces wild.

At my screening, there were moments when I was convinced I was seeing the film with a group of asthmatics-there were those who couldn't stop gasping at the absurdity. Apparently, even MGM knows it's dealing with a dog. "Deuces Wild" has been sitting on their shelves for two years. The fact that they waited to release it opposite "Spider-Man" says it all for how the studio itself views the movie.

Grade: D-

Editor's Note: NOTFlix It is a feature meant to draw attention to older films some readers might have missed, and might consider adding to their Netflix queue, or renting at their local DVD store. Unlike our Netflix It feature, NOTFlix It is designed to keep viewers far away from all the dogs that are out there. The following review of "The Astronaut's Wife," never published here before, is the original 1999 review. And you definitely should NOTFlix It.

Rand Ravich’s “The Astronaut’s Wife” is one small step in Ravich’s career, and one giant leap backward for the psychological drama. It dares to go where few films have gone before--absolutely nowhere.

The film stars Johnny Depp as Spencer Armacost, a NASA astronaut who loses two minutes of consciousness while on a mission in space. It’s what happened to Spencer--and to his dumb astronaut buddy, Alex (Nick Cassavetes)--that’s supposedly at the core of this film.

But the film’s script is full of black holes. Since the story is first about the great love supposedly shared between Spencer and his wife, Jillian (Charlize Theron), it’s absolutely essential that we believe in their love. Only then will we care when it’s threatened by extraterrestrial events.

But there’s no chemistry between the actors, no life in their bones. Ravich saturates his film in such cold, steely blues, Depp and Theron become two blocks of ice sliding about onscreen. For instance, each time they hit the sack, which is often, one half-expects some cash to be left on a bedside table.

Worse is Depp’s performance. Why Ravich insisted on having the actor speak in a slow, dim-witted Southern drawl is beyond comprehension--throughout, he sounds less like a bright, wealthy astronaut responsible for billions of dollars in technology than a man selling sides of pork out of a backwoods trailer.

Theron holds up better, but that’s only because she delivered the exact same performance in 1997’s “The Devil’s Advocate.”

Unlike, say, M. Night Shyamalan’s “The Sixth Sense,” “Wife” isn’t a sustained piece of work. It’s learned nothing from the canon, certainly nothing from the genre itself, because it exists in a sort of vacuum. Sure, the sets are terrific, but it’s cheaper and more satisfying to purchase an issue of Metropolitan Home.

In the end, it comes down to the characters--it always does--and Ravich’s characters are dead on the screen, cadavers with moving mouths and watery eyes who have no connection to themselves, to the story or to the audience.

Let’s send them--and this rotten film--straight to the moon.

Grade: D-

Editor's Note: NOTFlix It is a feature meant to draw attention to older films some readers might have missed, and might consider adding to their Netflix queue, or renting at their local DVD store. Unlike our Netflix It feature, NOTFlix It is designed to keep viewers far away from all the dogs that are out there. The following review of "The Astronaut's Wife," never published here before, is the original 1999 review. And you definitely should NOTFlix It.

Rand Ravich’s “The Astronaut’s Wife” is one small step in Ravich’s career, and one giant leap backward for the psychological drama. It dares to go where few films have gone before--absolutely nowhere.

The film stars Johnny Depp as Spencer Armacost, a NASA astronaut who loses two minutes of consciousness while on a mission in space. It’s what happened to Spencer--and to his dumb astronaut buddy, Alex (Nick Cassavetes)--that’s supposedly at the core of this film.

But the film’s script is full of black holes. Since the story is first about the great love supposedly shared between Spencer and his wife, Jillian (Charlize Theron), it’s absolutely essential that we believe in their love. Only then will we care when it’s threatened by extraterrestrial events.

But there’s no chemistry between the actors, no life in their bones. Ravich saturates his film in such cold, steely blues, Depp and Theron become two blocks of ice sliding about onscreen. For instance, each time they hit the sack, which is often, one half-expects some cash to be left on a bedside table.

Worse is Depp’s performance. Why Ravich insisted on having the actor speak in a slow, dim-witted Southern drawl is beyond comprehension--throughout, he sounds less like a bright, wealthy astronaut responsible for billions of dollars in technology than a man selling sides of pork out of a backwoods trailer.

Theron holds up better, but that’s only because she delivered the exact same performance in 1997’s “The Devil’s Advocate.”

Unlike, say, M. Night Shyamalan’s “The Sixth Sense,” “Wife” isn’t a sustained piece of work. It’s learned nothing from the canon, certainly nothing from the genre itself, because it exists in a sort of vacuum. Sure, the sets are terrific, but it’s cheaper and more satisfying to purchase an issue of Metropolitan Home.

In the end, it comes down to the characters--it always does--and Ravich’s characters are dead on the screen, cadavers with moving mouths and watery eyes who have no connection to themselves, to the story or to the audience.

Let’s send them--and this rotten film--straight to the moon.

Grade: D-

Editor's Note: NOTFlix It is a feature meant to draw attention to older films some readers might have missed, and might consider adding to their Netflix queue, or renting at their local DVD store. Unlike our Netflix It feature, NOTFlix It is designed to keep viewers far away from all the dogs that are out there. The following review of "Stepmom," never published here before, is the original 1999 review. And you definitely should NOTFlix It.

Directed by Chris Columbus, written by Gigi Levangie, Jessie Nelson, Steven Rogers, Karen Leigh Hopkins and Ron Bass, 124 minutes, ated PG-13.

Chris Columbus’ “Stepmom” is the perfect film for those who are content with low entertainment, those who come to films not to see something fresh or new, but to be force fed old ideas and tired clichés as performed by actors who, like dish rags, are absolutely interchangeable.

For others, those with more discerning tastes who prefer substance over trash, “Stepmom” likely will disappoint, particularly since the film wastes a perfect opportunity to explore real issues with step-parenting in the late 1990s.

At its heart--and “Stepmom” wants you to know it has a very big, very warm heart--the film stands as a shining monument to the embarrassingly manipulative, the sickeningly sweet, the hopelessly maudlin. Its sole purpose is not so much to entertain as it is to make you feel something--anything--in a desperate attempt to make you cry.

The film stars Julia Roberts and Susan Sarandon, two women who should have known better than to join forces in such silly, sentimental hog wash. As Isabel, a big city fashion photographer who lives with the very dull Luke (Ed Harris), Roberts must come to terms with the very difficult Jackie (Sarandon), Luke’s former wife whose two very hurt and very confused children predictably dislike Isabel, but who eventually come to love her because, well, that’s how films like this turn out.

The film’s five writers--yes, five were brought on board, all of whom clearly only dropped by to add their favorite clichés to the script--apparently felt compelled to soften Sarandon’s character not by having her work through her jealousy and accept her ex-husband’s new love, but by giving her cancer--yes, cancer--and thus putting her through chemotherapy, which allows us all to watch her suffer.

What fun! It's a terrific learning experience for her, and for the audience.

To Sarandon’s credit, she has her affecting moments, somehow digging deep to make the material work, but the addition of cancer into a story that’s essentially about step-parenting feels so forced and artificially constructed, it ultimately takes away from her performance...while also disrespecting those people actually living with cancer.

“Terms of Endearment” and “One True Thing” never crossed that line, instead allowing cancer into their storylines in ways that seemed natural, something “Stepmom” couldn’t understand because the film itself is so unnatural--the characters, the situations, the settings, the “Reader’s Digest” dialogue.

Pity. In the end, there are no surprises in “Stepmom,” whose hallmark isn’t so much its courage and great glimpses of insight as it is its overwhelming lack of courage and insight. But there is nausea, lots of bubbling nausea, most of which has nothing to do with Sarandon’s chemotherapy.

Grade: D+

Editor's Note: NOTFlix It is a feature meant to draw attention to older films some readers might have missed, and might consider adding to their Netflix queue, or renting at their local DVD store. Unlike our Netflix It feature, NOTFlix It is designed to keep viewers far away from all the dogs that are out there. The following review of "Stepmom," never published here before, is the original 1999 review. And you definitely should NOTFlix It.

Directed by Chris Columbus, written by Gigi Levangie, Jessie Nelson, Steven Rogers, Karen Leigh Hopkins and Ron Bass, 124 minutes, ated PG-13.

Chris Columbus’ “Stepmom” is the perfect film for those who are content with low entertainment, those who come to films not to see something fresh or new, but to be force fed old ideas and tired clichés as performed by actors who, like dish rags, are absolutely interchangeable.

For others, those with more discerning tastes who prefer substance over trash, “Stepmom” likely will disappoint, particularly since the film wastes a perfect opportunity to explore real issues with step-parenting in the late 1990s.

At its heart--and “Stepmom” wants you to know it has a very big, very warm heart--the film stands as a shining monument to the embarrassingly manipulative, the sickeningly sweet, the hopelessly maudlin. Its sole purpose is not so much to entertain as it is to make you feel something--anything--in a desperate attempt to make you cry.

The film stars Julia Roberts and Susan Sarandon, two women who should have known better than to join forces in such silly, sentimental hog wash. As Isabel, a big city fashion photographer who lives with the very dull Luke (Ed Harris), Roberts must come to terms with the very difficult Jackie (Sarandon), Luke’s former wife whose two very hurt and very confused children predictably dislike Isabel, but who eventually come to love her because, well, that’s how films like this turn out.

The film’s five writers--yes, five were brought on board, all of whom clearly only dropped by to add their favorite clichés to the script--apparently felt compelled to soften Sarandon’s character not by having her work through her jealousy and accept her ex-husband’s new love, but by giving her cancer--yes, cancer--and thus putting her through chemotherapy, which allows us all to watch her suffer.

What fun! It's a terrific learning experience for her, and for the audience.

To Sarandon’s credit, she has her affecting moments, somehow digging deep to make the material work, but the addition of cancer into a story that’s essentially about step-parenting feels so forced and artificially constructed, it ultimately takes away from her performance...while also disrespecting those people actually living with cancer.

“Terms of Endearment” and “One True Thing” never crossed that line, instead allowing cancer into their storylines in ways that seemed natural, something “Stepmom” couldn’t understand because the film itself is so unnatural--the characters, the situations, the settings, the “Reader’s Digest” dialogue.

Pity. In the end, there are no surprises in “Stepmom,” whose hallmark isn’t so much its courage and great glimpses of insight as it is its overwhelming lack of courage and insight. But there is nausea, lots of bubbling nausea, most of which has nothing to do with Sarandon’s chemotherapy.

Grade: D+