Seth Green

Arcade (1993)

(In French, On Cable TV, November 2020) There’s no doubt that Arcade is a terrible film, and I find myself hesitant to cut it any slack for being a film about immersive videogames that came out at the dawn of the CGI era. It’s clearly terrible-looking—anyone who was around back in 1993 will instantly recognize the low-end awkward CGI that is meant to be the showcase of the film, as our teenage heroes immerse themselves in a form of virtual reality. (This being said, the CGI was not bad for the time and budget.) Other than Megan Ward and Seth Green in small roles, John de Lancie is the only recognizable name here as a scientist who realizes that his creation has taken a life of its own thanks to some terrible decisions. (Note to self and anyone else: using an abused dead boy’s brain cells in your AI development is really just asking for trouble.) But even if you’re feeling generous on the special effects, the rest of the film is not particularly good—while the script is an early piece of juvenilia from David S. Goyer (who would go on to write much, much better material), it’s directed by infamous B-movie mogul Albert Pyun, so the results are roughly what we’d expect. There are no surprises, no scares and no big ideas in Arcade, even accounting for a 1993 production date: even if some of this material might have felt fresh during the first year of Wired magazine, it’s all hopelessly trite now, and more of a period piece than something worth watching for itself.

Radio Days (1987)

Radio Days (1987)

(On Cable TV, September 2020) As much as I have a lot of unflattering things to say about Woody Allen, I’ll take a break from it in discussing Radio Days, as the film almost deserves to live on its own. The irony is that it’s clearly a semi-autobiographical tale, telling us about the late-1930s and early 1940s, when radio reigned over the lives of ordinary people, before TV took over everything. Our protagonist is a boy (an incredibly young Seth Green) who obsesses about the shows he hears—but from him the narrative sprawls to cover his family, his friends and the actors playing the characters he idolizes. It’s 85 minutes of thick nostalgia, and it’s so effective that it works even for those who weren’t there by a few generations. The historical recreation of New York City (Manhattan for the radio personalities, Queens for the protagonist) is convincing for a mid-1980s film. The soundtrack is really good and the episodic structure does come together more readily than most films of this type. It all culminates in a poignant send-off that also nods at an entire era. Radio Days may not be my favourite Woody Allen film, but it’s certainly in the top tier.

Sex Drive (2008)

Sex Drive (2008)

(On DVD, January 2017) Teenage sex comedies are a dime a dozen, but there’s something better than average in Sex Drive’s execution that makes it float above most of its genre. The idea to combine a road movie with a more typical sex comedy isn’t new, but it makes for a clever way to structure the film, culminating in a ridiculous ending in which a bunch of characters converge on a single location. Josh Zuckerman is the likable anchor of the film, but he’s not nearly as interesting as secondary or tertiary characters such as Clark Duke’s improbable teenage Casanova, Seth Green’s trolling Amish or James Marsden’s confused older brother. The gags hit or miss, but there’s a forward rhythm to the road movie as it gets its protagonist closer and closer to his stated goals. Parents should rest easy in knowing that like most other sex comedies, Sex Drive ends up promoting good old solid American values after all. Watchable without being exceptional, it’s nonetheless is better than much of its genre. Note: The “unrated” DVD contains an extended edition that features blatantly gratuitous nudity (green-screened in existing footage), alternate takes and bloopers inserted within the film. None of it is essential, and the filmmakers are quite right to feature a PSA before the movie telling newcomers to watch the “rated” version of the film first.

Can’t Hardly Wait (1998)

Can’t Hardly Wait (1998)

(On TV, September 2015)  From afar, there isn’t much here to distinguish Can’t Hardly Wait from endless teenage comedies: It’s all about a massive graduation party, with multiple subplots crashing into each other during the last big night of a group of high-school students.  There have been many, many, many movies revolving around the same issues (take a look at Project X for one of the latest), and most of the subplots are just as intensely familiar.  Still, watching Can’t Hardly Wait, it’s clear that the film succeeds at what it tries to do: despite the predictable plot points, the stereotypes, the sometimes-cheap jokes and the déjà-vu, there are a few chuckles and flashes of energy to the proceedings:  Take a look at the drunken-nerd sequence, or the way a letter finds its way from the trashcan to its intended recipient, for two representative examples.  For circa-2015 viewers, Can’t Hardly Wait has additionally gained a representative soundtrack of its time, and features (sometimes in very small roles) a dozen actors that have since made a career for themselves.  The best performances in the film probably go to Ethan Embry, Seth Green, Lauren Ambrose and Charlie Korsmo, but the cast in general is pretty good at what it tries to do.  Thanks to writer/directors Harry Elfont and Deborah Kaplan’s familiarity with the material they’re trying to emulate, the characters are often smarter than we think (Jennifer Love Hewitt has a spectacular speech that shreds a classic trope along the way) and there are odd twists of sub-plots (such as Jenna Elfman’s out-of-the-mists appearance) to keep things interesting.  Even jaded viewers may find themselves enjoying Can’t Hardly Wait despite themselves.