With “Ghosts of Mars”, more giggles than gasps

Scene from "Ghosts of Mars" (2001) Columbia Pictures

That John Carpenter’s Ghosts of Mars is one of his least known and least appreciated films is beside the point.

Unlike Halloween, The Fog, and The Thing–all of which turned around tidy profits–Ghosts lost over $19 million after its 2001 release and was widely panned by critics despite a strong cult-like following among Carpenter fans.

And that was despite Carpenter stacking the casting deck with veterans like Natasha Henstridge, Ice Cube, Pam Grier, Jason Statham, Clea Duvall and Joanna Cassidy.

For me though, the real issue is whether or not this Carpenter flop is really a horror or a black comedy.

For one, it’s not really that scary owing mostly due to hokey makeup, a lack of decent special effects and the fact that Carpenter splattered a patch of New Mexico desert with red food dye to act as a stand in for Mars.

Two, in many places it’s downright very funny which is why I think it warrants another look.

Set in the 22nd century on a “terra-formed” Mars, Lieutenant Melanie Ballard (Henstridge) is part of a team of police officers assigned to transport a jailed Desolation Williams (Cube) and his gang back to the city to stand trial for robbery–so even in the 22nd century and on another planet, minorities are still on the run from the po-po?

To pass time on the train ride to the mining town, a bored Ballard pops a hit of a hallucinogenic drug called “clear” while also deflecting come-ons from her boss Helena Braddock (Grier).

When Braddock suggests that a quick tryst with a straight (sober) Ballard could ensure her promotion to captain, she responds, “Don’t worry Helena, I’m as straight as they come.”

Once they arrive in the deserted town, things go from bad to worse as the
possessed miners one-by-one turn Ballard’s team into sushi but not before Ballard astutely remarks,

“It’s Friday night. The whole place should be packed. A whole twelve hours before sun up and there’s money to burn, whores to ($%*#) and drugs to take.”

When the ghosts overwhelm the town, it soon becomes clear to the surviving cops that they must work with Williams (and his gang) if they are ever to get out of town alive.

While the group preps weapons to face the imminent onslaught of ghosts/miners, a member of Williams’ gang named Dos (Lobo Sebastian) demonstrates to a prostitute (Wanda De Jesus) how to open a can with a machete.

The only problem is Dos has been getting high all day on a “laugher-breather” and winds up chopping off his thumb to which Williams’ only response is to laugh and call him a “dumb ass.”

The team eventually decides that the only way to kill off the zombiesque miners is to nuke the town which, of course, results in ghostly fallout that infests the entire planet.

With Ghosts, you either love it or hate it but one thing Carpenter has going for him is that he knows how to cast a horror film. Or is it a comedy?—Steve Santiago

NYC landmark rests with the fishes in new documentary

In Fulton Fish Market U.S.A., director Keith
Nicolay explores the imminent demise of a great New York City landmark which was the Fulton Market.

Unlike other Fulton Fish Market pieces out there, (and there are several) Nicolay’s treatment initially plots a neo-realist trajectory only to boomerang back at you with the grittiness of a Ramones show.

And unlike other  documentarians on the subject, Nicolay’s personal friendships with workers and intimate knowledge of the market’s workings make for an insider viewpoint like no other.

Nicolay lets the Fulton Fish Market speak for itself and tell its own story sans a narrator or an overly constructed story line.

The editing on the straight-to-DVD was crisp yet freely meanders along at an unhurried pace, seemingly unconcerned with today’s frenetic rush to nowhere.

Like the enduring East River, along which the market has sat for most of its existence, the market’s workers recount experiences which ebb and flow into one another yet never become so diluted as to lose the fortitude of their individual experiences.

The workers have no trouble saying what’s on their minds even if it doesn’t have to do with work per se. Nicolay’s treatment of the demise of the original FFM and the relocation of its workers,many of who have never worked anywhere else, is symbolic of the overall trade of culture for capitalism, tradition for trend and an unfortunate manifestation of what many New Yorkers call the “Giuliani Effect.”

New York City, in order to keep its vital blood supply of tourist dollars coursing through its arteries, must establish a sense of security and normality for visitors.  And that normality usually translates into the familiar icons of cookie cutter franchises, overpriced coffee shops, greasy burger joints and feel-good Disneyesque attractions– all of which keep the tourists coming.

The grand icon of yesteryear which was once the Fulton Fish Market has gone the way of the peep shows, Times Square hookers, Eastside dive bars and street evangelists. More than likely, luxury condos will be built where the market once stood for 183 years.

Interestingly, if not for the fact that the market’s relocation scheme was recently played out in the press, it was hard telling what decade this film took place in–no doubt the original intention.

The cinematographer richly juxtapositions sublime shots of New York City along with gritty, grungy fish workers and army ant-like forklifts. You could almost smell the fishy stench through your televison monitor.

All in all, the film definitely has a unique patina not found in any documentary I’ve seen. There were long stretches with no dialog which I found to be extremely refreshing in this age of in-your-face media and entertainment. —Steve Santiago