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Everything by Hollywood DrntoonAr 8 1 ' "J '- !"';.v : : /' V^SjL 7 . . ... . t > /,. ip!: B$ '' '.:"-:':^v I saSSfe' 4.|:- ' i - ' ' ^gtllSsE.' UfiHLi; v fflHMBHHHBk. I : ms. ' M W l\ . Not just a professor Benjamin Dunlap teaches English at USC and is currentl 'Cujo' barks of By Doug Bell via "Cujo" is an adequate but undistinguish- knc ed suspense thriller starring a rabid saint qui bernard. Adapted from Stephen King's best seller, / "Cujo" tells, for the most part, a dull, sue unoriginal tale about a young married couple aut (Dee Wallace and Daniel-Hugh Kelly) and yar their young son Tad (Danny Pintauro). Dad wa is an advertising man in danger of losing a big account. Mom is an attractive housewife j engaged in an adulterous affair with the fre village gigolo (Christoper Stone). Tad is a wa cute kid, afraid of the dark and all the unseen in demons that hide therein. The film is easier to understand if divided j in half. The first half introduces the I characters and sets them about their humdrum activities, which serves little purpose except to pass the time until the second half ? which is really the meat of the movie ? begins. THE ONLY pertinent scenes in this laborious waiting room introduction are the ones that reveal Tad's horror of unseen monsters ? ominous low-angled, slow mo- i tion shots that are cliche, but at least serve some thematic purpose. Also important is the scene introducing the i | Camber family. Camber (Ed Laurter) is a surly, rural mechanic who fixes cars and owns Cujo, the saint bernard who is bitten by bats while the opening credits are still rolling. S?jjjl| Cujo, unnoticed by his owner, undergoes a I* gradual metamorphosis,changing from a playful, cub-like pet into a foaming, ?iw| frothing, rabid killer. The second half begins when Mom and Tad drive up in the mechanic's yard for serr ,. (!C pioneers -v?' : . - -V -; ; ' v >. fSSgg ' ;- p. ... s, ' wHjjBfiK y HMmSK . j jmmmwmBE '1^^B1B0R^^ ;f ..-. v. .;<>; If ' ' * / '' ^>^^:liifl^H^^^Hfl^H ... aB 9 |pWM|iS|H m I ^j ^^9HRHMBHEH9BBSHDBS9HHBHSHBSHhmBP^^^^ Phnfn hu Maru Ann Unllio y devoted to a 'southern' film project. cheap scan i on their near-dead engine. They don't )\v it, but Cujo has disposed of his master te violently, and is now the sole host. intense, terrifying, exhausting siege ens: Mother and child are trapped in a dead omobile in the middle of a sun-baked d with a canine killer avidly circling, iting for the moment to nounce. ^ \part from the obvious shock value of the quent attacks, the siege is disturbing in the y it forces the child to crystallize his fears broad daylight in the face of a real )ther Stephen King thriller lijo' JjpKs 9 strong stflry,, yM, Am ?W!" inmenT total 'sou By Glenn German "One of the main differences between Michelangelo's work on the Sistine Chapel and what we are attempting is that he knew his scaffolding was secure." Benjamin Dunlap, a USC English professor, laughs at his analogy, adding he doesn't exDect the feature film he is writing and producing for public television to have quite the artistic impact of Michelangelo's "The Creation." However, his analogy does relate the tremendous pressure and uncertainty involved in feature filmmaking. ONE CAN quickly be caught up in the enthusiasm Dunlap exudes when talking about film. His humble office is without the usual self-laudatory awards, degrees and plaques. In their places are such memorablia as a larger photograph of Italian film director Roberto Rosselini mounted on a Columbian blue background, a souvenir from Spoleto '81, examples of past students' work and film posters. Next to a one-sheet of Ingmar Bergman's "Face to Face" is a constructionpaper butterfly, which could only be the work of a young daughter. Dunlap's keen interest in film was fostered in his undergraduate school days at the University of the South at Sewanee, Tennessee. In the mid-50s, it was just a gothic building on top of a hill with nothing around, he said. "Once you had finished studying," he said, "you could do one of three things. You could go to church all the time, you could drink beer all the time or you could go to the movies all the time. For what it's worth, I chose the latter of the three." What time wasn't spent in a darkened theater scrutinizing the likes of Eisenstein's "Battleship Potemkin," he must have spent reading the likes of Shakespeare and Dante, for in 1959, he attended Wadham College, Oxford, as a Rhodes Scholar. WHILE AT Oxford, Dunlap spent a lot of time in Paris. It was then the New Wave, led by Andre Bazin and his "Cahiers du Cinema," was getting started. This movement had a great affect on his interest in film, he said. It was in the Oxford University Film Society that he got his first hands-on experience at filmmaking. Dunlap and a group of about 20 is. lackluster monster. The ending is cheap and unsatisfying. Directed by Lewis Teague from a screenplay by Don Carlos Dunaway, the film has little structural cohesiveness. Loosely scattered bits and pieces lead up to a mammoth setpiece. The acting is adequate. Dee Wallace has the most demanding role, which she fills credibly and capably. Cujo himself is a deadlv hf'li/'vaKIp i/illian Vi /-? 11 rr Vi 1 I ~ ? pccurrerr pathos in his unsought-for destiny might have been more thoughtfully handled. moment?.?n m r??? mj.h t^i?in i i! '?i m I f r-1 inern mm other ambitious students made a film, which eventually was shown in the Edinburough Film Festival. "I was assistant director, production secretary and all-purpose extra," he said. Dunlap returned to the United States where he graduated from Harvard University in 1965 with a doctorate in literature. He turned down a position at Harvard to move back to his native Columbia, where he knew there was a quality television facility and a good chance that he might break into production at some level, he said. That chance came when Dunlap convinced the South Carolina Educational Television network to film a pilot for a series he had planned. "Cinematic Eye," which ran for two years, was a tremendous artistic success, he said. It earned him several awards and garnered an Emmy nomination for Outstanding Program Achievement. But more importantly, his foot was in the door, Dunlap said. SINCE THE series, he has been involved in more than 120 S.C. ETV productions, but it was just last year that the chance for which he had always been waiting was handed to him in a way that now seems a minor miracle, he said. As Dunlap began to talk about his current project, he bent forward with an earnestness and vitality that betrays his credentials. On paper, he surely seems the type of English professor who dons oversized herringbone jackets, bow ties, smokes a pipe and speaks in hushed Victorian tones. In fact, Dunlap is quite the opposite. Dressed in a white Adidas shirt, khaki slacks and jogging shoes, his attire is a pleasant paradox. The film he is writing and producing, "Tales of the Unknown South," has everything a Hollywood picture has except Hollywood, he said. A major production about the South ? South Carolina in particular ? by southerners, will answer whether a feature film for prime-time television can be produced using only local resources, he said. TTVio p;i~, ...:n : .1 j: i Ilk mill Will IIILUI pui die II1ICC UlVCIhC stories by talented southern authors that have been written over the past 60 years, showing the evolution of interaction between the white European culture and the black African culture found in the Gullah speaking sea islands of South Carolina, Dunlap said. See "Dunlap," page 11 story Still, this reviewer would recommend "Cujo" only to those die-hard seekers of cheap scares. A FEW WORDS about movies on and near campus this weekend. Alan J. Pakula's version of William Styron's "Sophie's Choice" is playing at Russell House. Old fashioned, highly romantic and deeply tragic, the film surmounts its flaws with an exquisite performance by Meryl Streep (who won 1982's Best Actress Oscar for the film). "Sophie's Choice" is an extremely rewarding movie. 1 ' '.' r .!.' ii i??! J <i.:' if i J.! ii i* J J J i. , j j . ? , ; _ , . . ,. . ;