THE PROGRAM

The Mass Effect game series never spoke to me much as a gamer; despite owning the first game in the trilogy, I’ve never completed it, but over the past few years have watched friends play it, seen videos, and ultimately, found it impossible not to hear how the trilogy ended in the controversial final game. Any gamer worth his or her salt knows that cheap “cash-ins” on games occur quite often in the form of animated prequels or tie-in movies. “Mass Effect: Paragon Lost” is the first major example I can think of, where a tie-in movie, in this case a prequel following a minor character from “Mass Effect 3,” attempts and largely succeeds and telling a compelling story, which most importantly, speaks to fans of the parent series and those completely unfamiliar alike.

The hero of “Paragon Lost” is James Vega, voiced by Freddie Prince Jr., reprising the role from “Mass Effect 3,” as he completes duty on Fehl Prime during the time of a brutal, deadly attack by the Collectors. As Vega’s squad suffers both heroic successes and personal losses, the natural progression of things reveals the inevitable: not everything is as it seems and Vega’s story is on a windy path. At its core, “Paragon Lost” follows a derivative formula, but when executed properly, this formula can prove quite entertaining. The idea of the young, cocky squad of intergalactic soldiers is nothing fresh and generally two phenomenal executions of the idea spring to mind: “Aliens” and “Halo.” “Paragon Lost” never reaches the pinnacles of either series, but by and large, knows all the right notes to play to get audiences to react favorably.

Truth be told, if the quality of the animation was above the vast mediocrity offered, “Paragon Lost” might have been an even more enjoyable viewing experience, but sadly, everything from character design to the motion of the characters seems, bluntly, cut-rate. Eventually, the viewing eye grows accustom to the style, but this doesn’t erase the fact, that a large part of the animated film experience is merely serviceable. Thankfully, the voice acting, often a make-or-break element in animation works, helping to give the world of “Paragon Lost” a more lived-in feeling and slightly make up for its visual shortcomings.

I won’t lie, “Paragon Lost” might have been an even more enriching experience had I played and finished, at minimum, the first two entries in the game series. There were a few references I picked up on that make me realize, fans of the game series will get the most from what “Paragon Lost” has to offer; for me, the character of Vega is a little stock, but knowing he’s a part of “Mass Effect 3,” coupled with my overall enjoyment of the story, make me want to consider giving the series another try. “Mass Effect: Paragon Lost” is lean, mean entertainment that doesn’t try to reinvent any genre conventions; it knows its limitations and in the story department, largely delivers.

THE DVD

The Video

The copy supplied was a DVD-R screener and as a result, an accurate rating of the disc’s technical merits cannot be applied. Should FUNimation supply a copy of the final street product for review, the review will be amended to reflect this.

The Audio

The copy supplied was a DVD-R screener and as a result, an accurate rating of the disc’s technical merits cannot be applied. Should FUNimation supply a copy of the final street product for review, the review will be amended to reflect this.

The Extras

None.

Final Thoughts

While the art design and animation quality leave a lot to be desired, “Paragon Lost” is an entertaining, rather breezy piece of sci-fi action. Even if you aren’t steeped in the lore of the Mass Effect series, if you love the genre, there are far lesser entries out there waiting to take your money and undeservedly so. Recommended.

In a crowded field, Garrow’s Law (2009-2011) is a British legal drama with an unique premise. Though its cases and romantic subplots resemble myriad other British courtroom shows, from Rumpole of the Bailey to Judge John Deed, Garrow’s Law is ingeniously set in Georgian London, specifically the end of the 1700s (and, just barely, into the 19th century). The aim of the series, in at which it largely succeeds, is to explore the often appalling social injustices of English law during this time, particularly against the poor, women, and the illiterate, and the efforts of real-life maverick barrister William Garrow (1760-1840)* to move the courts toward reformation and in particular an adversarial courtroom system.

Garrow’s Law – The Complete Collection (the BBC cancelled the program in 2012) repackages the show’s three season set DVDs into a single package that’s about one-third less expensive than buying them individually. There are 12 one-hour episodes in all, with each season set including a short featurette.

Working closely with (and grounded by) veteran barrister John Southouse (New Tricks‘ Alun Armstrong), neophyte but articulate barrister William Garrow (Andrew Buchan) takes on some of the least promising cases at the Old Bailey, from an accused serial stabber of young women, the “London Monster,” to James Hadfield, accused of attempting to assassinate King George III. Garrow typically finds himself before controversial, often prejudicial judge Sir Francis Buller (Michael Culkin), whose ruling that a husband could beat his wife with a stick no thicker than his thumb is the source of the term “rule of thumb.”

Its teleplays draw from real cases recorded in Old Bailey Proceedings and, besides Garrow, Buller, and would-be assassin Hadfield other historical figures such as newspaper publisher John Julius Angerstein (a kind of 18th century Rupert Murdoch), anti-slavery advocate Gustavas Vassa, and Welsh British Army Lt. General Thomas Picton also appear. The final episode of the first season is suggested by the trials of Thomas Hardy and John Horne Tooke.

More interesting, however, is the show’s depiction of 18th century law, the cruel injustices it inflicted on the poor especially, and Garrow’s efforts to protect the rights of these accused, establishing precedents that have become basic tenants of courtrooms in much of the civilized world. This aspect of the program is consistently fascinating.

Damaging the show slightly is its major subplot, Garrow’s burgeoning romantic relationship with Lady Sarah Hill (Lyndsey Marshal, The Hours, Rome), the wife of MP and British peer Arthur Hill (Rupert Graves) and who also acts as a kind of whistle-blower, funneling insider information to Garrow. As with the most of the writing on the show the relationship is fact-based, as Garrow and Sarah did indeed have a romantic relationship, and Arthur Hill was the father of her child, though the two were never actually married. The show’s third season dramatizes a custody battle between them over Sarah’s son.

The romantic subplot at times teeters dangerously near Harlequin Romance waters, though the strikingly beautiful Marshal and her understated performance compensate somewhat. The cast is mostly excellent, particularly Armstrong and Culkin, and despite a TV budget Garrow’s Law is convincing in its period details, presenting a lived-in, richly atmospheric London of the late-1700s that’s entirely believable.

Video & Audio

Bound in rather flimsy packaging, Garrow’s Law – The Complete Collection pulls together the three, two-disc volumes, with four hour-length episodes in each of the three DVD cases. Presented in 1.78:1 enhanced widescreen, Garrow’s Law is a handsome production properly presented here. The excellent Dolby Digital stereo audio accompanied by good English SDH subtitles.

Extra Features.

Supplements include text biographies of the historical William Garrow, as well as filmographies of the cast. But the real extras are the featurettes included with each set: “William Garrow: Fact and Fiction,” “Garrow’s Law: From Dawn to Dusk,” and a more standard behind-the-scenes promo film. Each runs 19-22 minutes.

Parting Thoughts

Above average, Garrow’s Law is fact-based historical fiction with a concentration on late-18th century law and real-life cases that are almost always intriguing. The program’s romantic subplotting is at times a bit melodramatic but overall this is a fine, Recommended series.

* It was William Garrow who introduced the concept of “presumed innocent until proven guilty.”

Stuart Galbraith IV is a Kyoto-based film historian whose work includes film history books, DVD and Blu-ray audio commentaries and special features. Visit Stuart’s Cine Blogarama here.

Undeniably striking at first…but far, far too long. Sony’s Choice Collection vault of hard-to-find cult and library titles has released Experiment in Terror, the 1962 thriller from Columbia Pictures, directed by Blake Edwards, and starring Glenn Ford, Lee Remick, Stefanie Powers, Ned Glass, Anita Loo, Patricia Huston, Clifton James, and another actor I’ll name later (but whom I’m sure you already know). An at-times hypnotic suspenser from comedy director Blake Edwards, Experiment in Terror is probably better known today for its Henry Mancini soundtrack and for its influence on director David Lynch, rather than for its own glossy-but-minor, protracted achievements. A vintage trailer is included in this sharp-looking anamorphic black and white transfer.

San Francisco bank teller Kelly Sherwood (the underrated, skilled Lee Remick) returns home late one night, parks her Ford in her dark garage, gets out of the car, and is grabbed from behind by a wheezing psychotic named Garland Humphrey “Red” Lynch. Lynch makes it clear: Kelly is going to steal for him $100,000 from her bank, or he’s going to kill her and possibly her little sister, Toby (Stefanie Powers). He or an associate will be watching her at all times, and the minute she slips up and calls the cops, she and Toby are through. Beautiful-but-tough cookie Kelly immediately calls the F.B.I., and briefly speaks with agent John Ripley (capable Glenn Ford’s last gasp as an A-lister, after the disastrous big-budget flops Cimarron, Pocketful of Miracles, and especially Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse). However, Lynch is still in her house, and knocks her to the floor, telling her she’s had her last warning. Agent Ripley, believing Kelly was telling the truth, eventually tracks down her number and through veiled, careful conversation, gets a handle on Kelly’s dangerous situation. He eventually meets with her, offering the Bureau’s help, but Lynch is always two steps ahead of the intrepid Ripley, first knocking off potential witness Nancy Ashton (Patricia Huston), and then kidnapping Toby. Will Ripley and Kelly be able to stop Lynch before he kills again

 MAJOR SPOILER WARNING!…or sorta

Since Experiment in Terror is fairly well known to fans of Edwards’ work (it played on afternoon and late, late movie shows all the time during the 1970s and 1980s)…and since Sony puts the name of the actor playing Red Lynch right on the back DVD cover…and since anyone who’s ever watched a minimum of ten hours of classic TV will recognize his distinctive voice and facial features (Edwards pretty much shows all of his face about an hour into the movie, anyway, so it’s not like a big surprise), I’m going to “reveal” the actor’s name in the main body of the review. If you’ve never seen Experiment in Terror and you want to guess who he is (at least for the first 15 minutes or so), then don’t read any further. Otherwise…I did warn you….

 Back during my “film school” days (bleech), I remember having a fairly heated argument with one of my “film professors” (hee hee!), who stated categorically that she didn’t believe in “such a thing as a ‘Blake Edwards,’ whatever that is.” Her comment always stuck with me, not only because of the hilariously self-righteous vehemence in which it was delivered, but, truth be told, because Edwards is a good litmus test for the limitations of the auteur theory. If the auteur theory is correct, Edwards’ sensibilities, thematic concerns, and visual vocabulary, among other elements, should be discernable in most of the works he did, regardless of their genre. I used to love the auteur theory because it was the easiest one to pull out to b.s. your way through a term paper (“Professor Mimi Montage, I found meaningful shadows in these eight Murnau movies.” “A+ for you, young Pavlovian protégé!”). Today, however, I find auteurism pretty much the way I find most of those theories that were drilled into our heads back then: esoteric gossamer that are the over-codified, over-intellectualized equivalents of parlor games.

 Certainly, there are experts out there on Edwards’ movies who believe his unique signature can be found in all his movies, and to them I say, “more power to you.” When reading his advocates, I always get the feeling they’re going out of their way to champion his non-comedic outings like Experiment in Terror precisely because he could be so brilliant at comedies―a classic overcompensation by-product of the auteur theory for any filmmaker largely associated with one genre. In Edwards’ case, it’s that old canard about comedy somehow not being worthy in and of itself; a moviemaker has to bolster those humorous abilities with…something more (a good example: most historians have long-praised Chaplin and Keaton as somehow “deeper,” more significant artists than mere “laugh-getter” Lloyd). And yet clearly, Edwards’ non-comedic efforts don’t come close to what Edwards achieved in his justifiably more famous humorous outings. It’s enough for me to acknowledge that Edwards was frankly brilliant with Peter Sellers (A Shot in the Dark is, for my money, one of the best directed comedies ever); I don’t need to make a case that aesthetic misfires like Wild Rovers, Darling Lili, The Tamarind Seed, and indeed Experiment in Terror, are cohesive, inter-connected works which are better than they actually are, just to validate Edwards as a “legitimate” auteur director.

 Experiment in Terror is a good case in point. As many critics have already acknowledged, Experiment in Terror‘s opening sequence is bravura moviemaking, a slick, sinister sequence that promises the viewer a nail-biting thriller with decidedly perverse undertones, particularly for a mainstream 1962 Hollywood mystery. Edwards, critically with the help of his foremost collaborator, composer Henry Mancini (as important, if not more so, to Edwards’ reputation as Herrmann was to Hitchcock’s), sets up a creepy, nightmarish world with Mancini’s languid, sly, buzzy electronic-and-strings theme punctuating Edwards’ and cinematographer Philip H. Lathrop’s dark, shadowy frames of Frisco nightlife. After the opening credits, once we’re inside Remick’s garage, Edwards shoots wheezing, rasping Ross Martin in complete shadow, as a high key light harshly illuminates part of Remick’s face, her terrified eyes reacting to Martin’s threats as his one hand roams over her body, getting her “measurements” right. It’s a remarkably modern, fetishistic scene, eroticizing themes of stylized violence and submission (we can’t stop thinking about how beautiful Remick’s absolutely perfect features look in that key light…as he grips her throat), which Edwards brings to an even sicker sexual pitch once Martin “teaches” Remick a lesson for calling Ford―by putting his foot on her neck as she groans into the carpet. Watching these hypnotic scenes, you can see precisely where young David Lynch first went “wrong” in his psyche, while wondering what kind of ride you’re in for after this remarkable opening.

 0Unfortunately, Edwards can’t sustain (or even adequately revisit) this heightened, otherworldly/sick suspense, and Experiment in Terror almost immediately winds down into an enjoyable but distressingly routine―and far too protracted―procedural. Edwards always had a problem with pacing and with focus (that’s a “fault,” not a “signature”), a weakness less noticeable in his comedies because of the audience’s willingness to just bump along with him from stand-alone set piece to set piece (The Great Race), but a telling fault in his more conventional dramas and thrillers (the gargantuan Darling Lili and the meandering Wild Rovers, The Carey Treatment, and The Tamarind Seed). It may make other school-trained “film theorists” derisively snort to reference a caveman reviewer like all-over-the-map Bosley Crowther (and that’s precisely why I like to do it), but he was exactly right in his 1962 review about Experiment in Terror‘s biggest drawback―its padded overlength―before he had the benefit of any theses on Edwards’ oeuvre.

1 2A thriller’s primary goal is to thrill, obviously, but Experiment in Terror takes a long 122 minutes to clumsily resolve its suspense, with at least a half hour of it unnecessary filler and repetitious scenes that likely would have been chopped out if director Blake Edwards’ producer had been anyone other than Blake Edwards (whenever they fully gave Edwards’ his head…he ran into problems). With a screenplay by crimewriting duo The Gordons (their Disney favorite, That Darn Cat, was an amusing little mystery), Edwards cuts back and forth between Glenn Ford’s stolid, coincidence-ridden investigation and Ross Martin’s hammy phone hijinks with Remick and Powers, stuffing inbetween them unnecessarily drawn-out sequences with mannequin maker Huston (her vague character is only a prop to show Martin killing someone other than Remick), stoolie Ned Glass (a too-genial pulp stereotype right out of Peter Gunn, clashing with Experiment in Terror‘s modernism), and Anita Loo (exactly how many times did we need to see that kid of hers). As far as the procedural elements go, you had tighter, more succinct investigations in any four average Dragnet episodes, while Edwards’ attempts at “atmosphere” go noticeably flat (the whole ungodly long “Roaring Twenties” bar sequence with Remick being mistaken for a hooker fails not only as a red herring, but as informative subtext). By the time everyone is running around Candlestick Park at the end, you’re not noticing Edwards’ surprisingly clumsy shoot-out (the crowded chase in the bowels of the park is alright, but the pitcher’s mound finale is, ironically, wrapped up too quickly), but rather how Martin, in his hoodie mackinaw and dark glasses, looks like a cross between the Unibomber and one of The Omega Man‘s “Family.” You can’t open up a movie so brilliantly like Experiment in Terror…and then coast into conventionality―no matter what kind of auteur genius you may be.

3 4The DVD:

The Video:
The anamorphically-enhanced, 1.85:1 widescreen black and white transfer for Experiment in Terror looks fairly good, with a sharpish image, decent blacks and acceptable contrast, and expected grain.

The Audio:
The Dolby Digital English split mono audio tracks is at least re-recorded at a decent level. No subtitles or closed-captions available.

The Extras:
An original trailer is included.

Final Thoughts:
Trim a half-hour out of it…and you still have a fairly conventional thriller. There’s no denying that director Blake Edwards’ opening sequence for Experiment in Terror is brilliant, suspenseful, perverted moviemaking. However, opening sequences alone do not make successful movies, and Experiment in Terror has another protracted 110-odd minutes to go after this initial creep-out. A lot of fat on promising B-material; however, if you’re in an undemanding mood, you can still mildly enjoy Experiment in Terror as a vintage thriller. On that level, I’m recommending Experiment in Terror.

Paul Mavis is an internationally published movie and television historian, a member of the Online Film Critics Society, and the author of The Espionage Filmography.

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THE PROGRAM

“Eleven Samurai” marks the third film in director Eiichi Kudo’s trilogy of samurai films. Those having seen both “Thirteen Assassins” and “The Great Killing” might approach “Eleven Samurai” expecting a familiar cinematography, but completely unsure of how Kudo will handle the tone of the film. The tonal shift between his two former films strongly cements Kudo as a master filmmaker, showing he can handle both grand scale and intimate narratives set in a very large, living world. “Eleven Samurai” sadly and thankfully doesn’t deviate from those films, instead choosing to couple Kudo’s beautifully shot style with the best of both worlds, resulting in a story viewers are certain they know the outcome to, but will be pleasantly surprised in its final act.

Like his previous two films, “Eleven Samurai” is focused on the punishment of a corrupt royal, in this case Lord Nariatsu, the son of a retired Shogun, who in a fit of anger murders an innocent village on the land of another clan’s territory and then maims a respected member of the clan who calls him on his misdeed; as expected, political dealings behind closed doors leave Nariatsu with less than a slap on the wrist and a group of seasoned samurai, devoted to justice, declaring to lay down their lives in order to bestow a fitting punishment on the psychotic lord. The paths of all the characters eventually converge for a finale that is brilliant at lulling you into a false sense of security before springing a brilliant surprise.

What makes “Eleven Samurai” compelling, apart from the gorgeous art direction, are its colorful characters: from the villain Nariatsu to the catalyst in the plot to kill him, the ronin-by-choice Hayato, and all the way Nui, a beautiful and deadly female swordsman whose commitment to honor shatters the way women are generally portrayed in these genre films. Kudo keeps the film moving and thankfully short, running 30 minutes less than his previous two efforts and its this approach to filmmaking that solidifies the fact that “Eleven Samurai” is not familiar out of apathy, but of deliberate intention to balance the easily accessible (and I’d say of Kudo’s informal trilogy, this is by far the easiest for a newcomer to the genre to watch) with intelligent, quiet philosophy.

“Eleven Samurai” is not the best of Kudo’s trilogy, but its no less compelling or any less worthy of your viewing time. Taken as a complete package, the trilogy amplifies the cry of Kudo’s status as an auteur whose name should be far more commonplace than it is. For a filmmaker to make something so familiar seem so distinctive is the hallmark of a confident artist and Kudo’s “Eleven Samurai” is something very familiar, but utterly gripping until the final, I dare say, shocking final shot. It is a perfect mixture of visceral action and character drama and well worth revisiting in years to come.

THE DVD

The Video

The 2.35:1 anamorphic widescreen transfer is very crisp and clean; there’s some regular, minor print damage, but detail is striking, as is the contrast levels on this very deliberately photographed film. Compression artifacts are only spotted vaguely under close scrutiny and edge-enhancement is noticeably absent.

The Audio

The Japanese mono audio track is generally clean, with little to no distortion or hiss; some dialogue though has a light mechanical reverb to it, possibly the effect of an expansive studio, but its noticeable nonetheless. English subtitles are provided with full dialogue and film text translations, as well as the option for dialogue only; subtitles are also provided in both color and black-and-white/grey.

The Extras

The bonus features consist of the film’s trailers, text-based program notes, a still image gallery, and cast and crew bios.

Final Thoughts

Eiichi Kudo’s final offering in his informal samurai trilogy proves to be uniquely familiar and captivatingly new, often in the same scene. “Eleven Samurai” is an incredibly accessible genre film that has more than enough to offer veteran fans. AnimEigo offers a great technical presentation of a film that, in a just world, would have been on DVD a decade ago. Highly Recommended.

What…no flashback to Randi Oakes in a bikini? Genial but generally lame reunion for those Olympian West Coast Sun Gods of the Forever Spinning Firestones. Warner Bros.’ own M.O.D. (manufactured on demand) service, the Archive Collection, which makes available for obsessed fans all those hard-to-find library and cult movie and TV titles, has released CHiPs ’99, the 1998 cable movie from TNT, starring Larry Wilcox, Erik Estrada, Robert Pine, Paul Korver, David Ramsey, and, um…Judge Judy. A laid-back breeziness helps with the overall wheeziness here…but Ponch had me the minute he flashed those pearly whites. A new video trailer for the movie is included in this good-looking transfer.

A lot has changed since our boys last spun their KZ1000s over those endless ribbons of L.A. concrete and asphalt back in the early 80s. Easy-going Officer Jon Baker (Larry Wilcox) is now Captain Jon Baker, and he rides a desk, not a bike, along with one-time commanding officer and now CHP Commissioner, Joseph Getraer (Robert Pine). Baker’s former partner―and former best friend―Frank “Ponch” Poncerello (Erik Estrada), has recently re-joined the force up north in Marin County, but he somehow finds himself back on duty at his old L.A. station house when Ponch’s other partner, Bruce Nelson (Bruce Penhall) gets a promotion. Ponch’s reunion with Jon is awkward, at best, but nothing compared to Ponch’s encounter with Baker’s new hotshot, Officer Peter Roulette (Paul Korver), a dispositional genetic duplicate of former troublemaker Ponch. Roulette may have that Ponch swagger down, but he’s kept in check (just as Jon kept Ponch in check all those years ago) by level-headed partner Officer Sergeant McFall (David Ramsey). Luckily, Ponch puts in for a temporary transfer just in time for Jon to give him a plum assignment: help the new guys bust a nefarious car-jacking ring, led by sultry Monica (Claudette Mink).

You can look at the laid-back but ultimately inconsequential CHiPs ’99 two ways: in the context of an average CHiPs episode, or in relation to other TV reunion movies. As an example of duplicating a typical CHiPs outing, CHiPs ’99, unfortunately, doesn’t even come close to approximating that dizzying, delightful, Adam-12 Takes Emergency! to the Disco Dance Party goofiness that marked CHiPs as one of the all-time most enjoyable “junk food” network shows from the late 70s (you can read here about the epiphany I experienced four years ago when I reviewed Season Two of ChiPs). A lot is missing here from that perfect formula. Jon and Ponch don’t really “ride” together for an extended period of time (a big mistake), thus eliminating not only the essential partner chemistry central to the show, but also all those subplots of freaked-out hippies, pregnant drivers in labor, dope-smuggling villains, and seat belt-skipping psychos that gave the series its loopy speed and punch. No minor TV guest stars are present so we can say, “Oh my god so-and-so is reduced to doing a CHiPs!” (where oh where are you, Troy Donahue and the like?). Most criminally of all in CHiPs ’99―no bikini babes or tight-jodhpured co-workers or super-hot stranded motorists for Ponch to sexually harass: Ponch doesn’t get it on with even one foxy lady here.

 Now, I know what you’re going to say: they “updated” it for the 90s. It’s supposed to be funny that hotshot Roulette thinks Ponch is a hot dog-eating, out-of-touch dinosaur! Look at how cute Ponch is, stranded in this New Age L.A. where his kind of ass-pinching, rule-breaking, wise-cracking dreamboat would get fired in two seconds if he pulled that late 70s crap today! And anyways…wouldn’t it be uncomfortable to see the slightly grayer, slightly…fuller Estrada pouring on the charm to a much younger actress? To all of that I say, “Fie!” Good god, men, this is CHiPs we’re talking about! You want realism in your reunion movie? You want “helpful” updating for all today’s little rule-following fascist squirts out there who never saw the show in the first place (and who would laugh at it now not out of appreciation…but in derision)? You want a so-called “realistic” framework for a script that lets Jon “mature” into even more of a tightass than he was 15 years before, while a sadly-deflated Ponch mourns for his dead wife while playing My One Son to little Frank, Jr. (Michael Vira)? Pardon my gloriously unconcerned, pre-P.C. language…but who the f*ck wants that in a CHiPs reunion? I don’t want to be reminded that they’re getting older. I don’t want to hear both Jon and Ponch say “a lot of things have changed” at least three times apiece. I don’t want anything to change, you understand? Hey, amigo―I want the CHiPs of old. I want bright, shiny, random flashes of action to keep my 4-minute attention span. I want Jon to shake his head and crack up at Ponch’s douchiness, and I want Ponch, in all his self-inflated Hispanic glory, to strut his stuff out on the tarmac and in the bedroom. And I want some broads, too―especially if they’re younger than Ponch. Isn’t that the whole point of CHiPs in the first place? Escapism, fetishized with all that bike-and-uniform accoutrements, with some helpful SoCal T & A thrown in to top me off (and you can take that anyway you want, too)? And just so much the better if Estrada and Wilcox are “too old” for this kind of nonsense. That’s the point, you idiots who made this: blind nostalgic nonsense…in full denial.

 Oh, well. As it stands as a TV reunion movie… CHiPs ’99 is just okay, I guess. Even though the story frequently makes no sense (explain to me again how Ponch got there…and where he’s going after the movie ends), there is an attempt by screenwriter Morgan Gendel (V.I.P., Nash Bridges) and director Jon Cassar (24) to keep things light, which most of these reunion movies shoot for but usually miss (the spectacularly misjudged, out-of-place Judge Judy segment, however, is an embarrassment to all concerned). Some of the stunts are fun (but there’s not nearly enough of them in the talky script), with director Cassar understanding the iconic necessity of putting orange fireballs behind our stars at least twice in the movie. And best of all, Wilcox and Estrada, who both look fit and trim enough to ride again into a weekly series, maintain just enough of a twinkle in their eyes to let everyone know they’re having a good time getting back together again (or at least letting us know they were paid enough to twinkle). TV reunion movies, particularly for iconic shows like CHiPs, usually fill one function only: to give the fans a chance to see if the stars are dead or not.

 CHiPs ’99 does that.

 0The DVD:

The Video:
The full-frame, 1.37:1 video transfer for CHiPs ’99 looks pretty good, with solid color, a sharpish image, and little if any screen anomalies like dirt or scratches.

The Audio:
The Dolby Digital English 2.0 stereo audio track is clean, too, with minor separation effects, good re-recording levels, and no fluctuation. No subtitles or close-captions are available.

The Extras:
The video trailer for CHiPs ’99 included looks new, but I suppose it could have been cut back in ’98.

Final Thoughts:
It needed to be a lot looser, a lot goofier. CHiPs ’99 takes itself way more seriously than the TV series ever did (even with the movie’s laid-back stabs at humor), while it leaves out several key elements of the CHiPs formula that made the original show work in the first place. Wilcox and Estrada look good, though, and they’re entertaining, as expected. CHiPs ’99 is recommended…but strictly for hardcore fans of the series.

Paul Mavis is an internationally published film and television historian, a member of the Online Film Critics Society, and the author of The Espionage Filmography.

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