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Accusing “Nobel Son” of being beyond-the-meridian is like complaining the circus is too colorful. Flamboyance, in all its generic guises, at times seems to be the very raison d’etre behind Randall Miller’s kidnapping thriller. Least effectively, such show yields Danny DeVito’s passion-compulsion, strange letter names and one-crow’s-foot backstories. Most prepossessingly, though, it flaunts Alan Rickman as a Nobel-winning scientist whose outrageous egomania lifts the pic far above the three-coronet dog-and-pony-show. Uneven but enjoyably titillating jet comedy should elate Rickman fans while pleasing aficionados of extra-flakey caper flicks.

Professor Eli Michaelson (Rickman) has just been awarded the Nobel Prize in chemistry. The endowment transforms the prof’s already insufferable narcissism into outright arrogance. For the rest of Michaelson clan, the Swedish coronation only adds insult to injury.

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Helmer Miller and co-writer/wife Jody Savin, whose work (”Marilyn Hotchkiss Ballroom Dancing and Charm School”) has tilted toward the sweet and sentimental, here throw themselves into twisted villainy with gusto. Even the good characters, like Mary Steenburgen’s Sarah, Rickman’s long-suffering wife by night and a forensic pathologist by day, harbor unexpected depths of deviousness.

Michaelson’s callow son Barkley (Bryan Greenberg), sole offspring and bitter disappointment (having chosen the social sciences), is finishing up his thesis on cannibalism (when, we wonder, will the gag pay off?) and trying to subsist on a measly paternal stipend of $35 a week. After a date with a weirdo poetess named City Hall (the irresistibly sexy Eliza Dushku), he is kidnapped.

Enter Thaddeus James (Shawn Hatosy), abductor, mechanical genius and advanced chemistry autodidact, claiming to be Barkley’s illegitimate half-brother. Thaddeus alternately threatens and cajoles Barkley into joining him in his multimillion-dollar kidnap/extortion/revenge plot against their father.

With more story twists than a designer pretzel — including an anonymous amputated thumb and a gratuitous corpse in a bathtub — the adrenalin-fueled pic thankfully slows to a halt after only a few to many loop-de-loops.

Tech credits maintain the film’s momentum throughout, Paul Oakenfold and Mark Adler’s techno-beat rhythms pumping up the action with occasional breaks for irony. Michael Ozier’s multi-angled lensing favors colorfully expressionistic backdrops to highlight Miller’s boldly sardonic editing.

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Reviewed by Dennis Schwartz

The Power is one of the better sci-fi films that no one seems to
talk about. It’s a classic B film, too long underrated by the critics.
George Hamilton, believe it or not, makes like Cary Grant did in Hitchcock’s
1959 “North by Northwest,” as he becomes a man on the run across the contemporary
suburban American landscape chased by someone with telekinetic powers.
It’s based on the 1956 novel by Frank M. Robinson. Byron Haskin (”The War
of the Worlds”/ “The Naked Jungle”) does a marvelous job mixing sinister
action and lighthearted sidelight sequences. The talented all-star cast
keeps the supernatural on a more or less literate level, while the George
Pal special effects are credible.

Set at a space research center where six scientists — Jim Tanner
(George Hamilton), Margery Lansing (Suzanne Pleshette), Carl Melniker (Nehemiah
Persoff), Talbot Scott (Earl Holliman), Henry Hallsom (Arthur O’Connell),
and N.E. Van Zandt (Richard Carlson) — are researching into human endurance
(how much pain can be handled in a space flight) and are administered by
a government liaison watchdog agent named Arthur Nordland (Michael Rennie).
During a meeting all seven attend, anxious anthropologist Hallsom brings
to their attention that one of them  unknowingly possesses an unheard
of superior intelligence and a test soon applied proves this to be true
but doesn’t identify the subject. It turns out that this brings about a
string of killings of the scientists, starting with the novel way Hallsom
is killed in the lab when the controls stop working and he’s forced to
remain in a pain chamber without escaping. 

No-nonsense fedora wearing Detective Corlane (Gary Merrill) investigates
and all suspicion falls on Tanner, whose school records have disappeared
and his boss Van Zandt fires him for getting the job on false pretenses.
To clear his name and find the killer, Tanner ignores the cop’s request
to stay home and travels back to Hallstrom’s hometown where he believes
there are certain invaluable clues regarding a mystery man who is up to
something nefarious. There’s a beautifully realized Hitchcockian carousel
sequence, where Tanner has to fight off the invisible force. That he’s
able to and others are not, indicates that there may be more than one super-brain
among the scientists and that person, who has developed the ability to
kill by will power, fears Tanner more than any one else as someone who
also possesses similar powers. 

There’s a diverting scene at a drunken hotel party, where floozy
Sylvia kisses one of the scientists but he’s dead. That only makes Tanner,
along with his squeeze Lansing, more daring as he escalates his hunt to
get the right scientist killer. It becomes a question if Tanner can get
the unknown super-genius before the villain gets him.

If you don’t take it as seriously as it was acted, I think you’ll
find it highly entertaining. Its major flaw is that it doesn’t clearly
state the villain’s motivation for doing such evil and doesn’t explore
with any depth the concepts of the Nietzschian mental superman it raises.
It instead settles for being a predictable but thrilling mystery story.

Brutally pleasant, darkly comic sci-fi, “Terminator 2: Judgment Day” is guaranteed to trash the feeble competition and conquer the on cloud nine this summer. Visceral to the issue of overkill (and beyond), a berserk blizzard of kinetic images, it doesn’t impassive transfer you every so often old-fashioned to be scared.

And even though “T2″ stars Arnold Schwarzenegger, it’s not just another chrome-plated casual carnage flick. “T2″ has a humane message; in fact, it’s even Politically Correct, in a perverse way. Here’s a techno-movie that is virulently anti-technology; that deploys mega-violence to make a statement about the value of human life; that is macho in the extreme, but has a female sensibility at heart.

And it has Arnold. Just try and stop it.

As we survey the scorched metal graveyard that is Los Angeles circa 2029, a solemn voice-over brings us up to date since the first “Terminator”: Intelligent computers began the nuclear war that wiped out 3 billion lives on Aug. 29, 1997. Those few unlucky humans who survived were left to face a far fiercer enemy than men — the malevolent machines we created.

But it doesn’t have to end that way: The human resistance is led by John Connor, who reprogrammed the original Terminator — a titanic Teutonic cyborg with a metal robot skeleton beneath its flesh-and-blood exterior — and sent it back in time to protect himself as a young boy.

And John’s mother Sarah (wiry hellcat Linda Hamilton, who outdoes Sigourney “Aliens” Weaver in Ultimate Overprotective Mom mode), is determined to change the future by “terminating” a scientist who bases his ultra-advanced weapons technology on a microchip left behind during the first “Terminator’s” earthly visit, thus unwittingly designing the doom of mankind.

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So this time, when Schwarzenegger materializes in a parking lot in a blaze of blue lightning, he’s a good guy, sort of, sent to protect young John Connor, a 12-year-old mall rat. After John (chipper, androgynous Edward Furlong) learns this frightening father-figure has to obey his orders (”Cool! My own Terminator!”), he gradually humanizes the implacable Terminator, teaching him about mores and emotions (”I will not kill anybody,” he promises John after one such lesson — instead, he just maims them for life). He also gives the Terminator a crash course in teen slang, which provides Schwarzenegger with the raft of drop-dead deadpan one-liners kids will be repeating all summer.

But the robots have also sent a Terminator back in time — the T-1000, more advanced, more deadly even than Arnold (he’s just a T-800) — on a mission to terminate kid Connor. Blond, bland, all-American-looking Robert Patrick plays the T-1000, who moves about in an L.A. cop’s uniform. Relentless and almost invincible, the T-1000 is made of “liquid metal,” so he’s self-healing and capable of quicksilver metamorphoses into anything he’s made contact with.

The collision of these two dueling near-indestructible man-machines at large in Los Angeles leads to fight scenes like you’ve never seen.

Director and co-screenwriter James Cameron has the framing eye of a great comic-book artist, and a bracingly sick sense of humor — he wittily borrows from the surrealistic hallucinations of “Nightmare on Elm Street,” the paranoia of “Silence of the Lambs” — and even indulges in a clever reversal of the melting Wicked Witch scene from “The Wizard of Oz.”

Budgeted in excess of $90 million (”T1″ cost a mere $6 million), “T2″ is the most expensive movie ever made, and Cameron puts it all on screen — the makeup, special effects and especially the harrowing chase scenes (a 14-wheeler truck chases a dirt bike through the L.A. flood-control channels; a helicopter buzzes a SWAT van on the L.A. freeway) redefine “spectacular.” And, of course, there are dozens of satisfying explosions, including a horrifyingly vivid envisioning of a nuclear holocaust.

After the techno-frenzy of Schwarzenegger’s “Total Recall,” audiences wondered how anyone could top that film’s special effects and epic body count. Now you’ve gotta be afraid of the movie that tries to outdo “Terminator 2.”