Director Michael Apted’s enthralling non-fiction Up series, though, provides just this
sort of overarching view of human life and frailty. Inspired by the old Jesuit
maxim, “Give me the child until he is seven and I will give you the man,” the
series began in 1964 under the watch of filmmaker Paul Almond, with a group of
British children from a wide variety of backgrounds interviewed about their
lives and their dreams for the future. Apted (Nell, The World Is Not Enough),
a researcher on the original film, has returned to interview the same children
every seven years since, at ages 14, 21, 28, 35, 42 and so on. 49 Up is the latest chapter, and it
chronicles more difficult decisions and shocking announcements in both life and
love.

More of the original group than ever before take part in
these proceedings, speaking out on where their choices have taken them. There’s
cab driver Tony, the former knuckle-dusting East Ender who as a kid yearned to
be a jockey; he and his second wife now have a house in Spain, and a peacefully
arrived at middle-class domesticity. Schoolmates Jackie and Sue, meanwhile,
each cope with loneliness; Sue is divorced, Jackie is widowed and stricken with
rheumatoid arthritis, for which her ex-mother-in-law provides her with money.

The remarkable thing about the film is the manner in which
it draws you in to these pedestrian, universal problems, ailments, triumphs and
despairs, blending in footage from the rest of the series but not capitulating
to a boring, straightforward chronological recap. Apted frames the interview
segments tightly enough to let the physical comparisons speak for themselves,
and quite obviously asks just the right sort of off-camera questions to get his
subjects to open up about marriage, class, careers and prejudice. This makes 49 Up an easy pill to swallow for
audiences no matter their point of entry (I’ve missed three in the series), and
a pleasant anthropological capsule through and through.

That said, the sheer range and scope of the interview
produces all sorts of interesting bon
mots. Apted, who was but 22 when he started on the series, talks in
forthcoming fashion about what he admits is his “life’s work,” and his
adherence to more universal themes. This includes how he included questions and
a lot of talk about Princess Diana’s death in 42 Up, using it as a sort of critical filter, but removed the bulk
of these bits because they seemed not to hang in concert with the rest of the
pieces. There’s also interesting information about 49 Up being the first film of the project to shoot on digital video,
and Apted and Ebert each astutely strike upon an interesting (and correct) chord
when they talk about the different modes of viewing for the series — and how those who view
the films in large batches typically have, experientially and fundamentally,
different reactions than those who have seen many of the movies piecemeal. For
more information about 49 Up and
First Run’s superlative box set release of the rest of the series, visit www.firstrunfeatures.com,
or purchase either title straightaway through Amazon by clicking here. A-
(Movie) B (Disc)

Some low-budget movies are able to take their relatively
limited means and make this work for them by building it into the conceit — be
it something like Cube or My Dinner with Andre. Straight-up horror
movies of a certain meager pittance often fail in this regard because they have
one eye so staunchly on the bottom line, and are worried about — and more often
than not, entirely conceived around — commercial, lowest-common-denominator
reception.

Into this latter category falls writer-director Kevin VanHook’s
remarkably unexceptional Slayer, a
vampiric actioner that centers around a swaggering paramilitary dude sent deep
into a South American jungle to rub out a clan of bloodsuckers. Certain films
have the courage of their own construction, which allows them to sport their
influences with playful forthrightness. Slayer
does not, alas. Boldly nipping from and wanly mashing together elements of Predator, Commando and Buffy the
Vampire Slayer, the movie unfolds with a boastful, self-serious strut that inspires
much eye-rubbing and deep sighing.

Casper Van Dien (Starship
Troopers) stars as said commando, Hawk, who teams up with his ex-wife (Jennifer O’Dell) to look for an old colleague (Kevin Grevioux) that’s been abducted by
the vampires. Much gnashing of incisors, so-so wire work and equally middling,
squib-happy effects work ensues, along with atrocious dialogue. There’s a Lynda
Carter cameo, but it feels so blatantly like a called-in chit as to incite
snickering. Also dropping in for paychecks are Ray Park (Darth Maul himself),
Tony Plana (Ugly Betty) and pock-mocked
tough guy fixture Danny Trejo, who’s made acne scars work for him more than
anyone else I can summon to mind. All in all, Slayer never really slays anything, least of all audience boredom.

Presented with a slightly raised slipcase cover, and in
1.78:1 anamorphic widescreen with optional Dolby digital 5.1 or 2.0 surround mixes,
the film at least comes with a relatively nice transfer. There is also a slight
roster of supplemental features — a polite but somewhat shrug-worthy audio commentary
track from VanHook and Van Dien, a photo gallery and a DVD-ROM accessible PDF
of the screenplay. D+ (Movie) C+ (Disc)