Just Desserts – ALLIGATOR

I love an intricate story.  Movies that painstakingly set up your expectations only to cleverly swerve into mysterious new directions can be exciting and innovative.  I’m thrilled by a good surprise or a smart twist.  Those movies can require a big investment of attention, though.  They can be a little exhausting.  Sometimes you just want a movie about a big alligator that eats jerks.  Lucky for you, 1980’s ALLIGATOR gives you just that.  

The Capsule:

After a heartless dad flushes his daughter's live pet down the toilet, Ramon the baby alligator is left to wander the lonely sewers of Chicago.  Twelve years on, Ramon has grown into quite the big boy, thanks to a steady diet of hormone filled dog corpses that the crooked pharmaceutical company dumps into his tunnels.  When sewer workers start getting fished out in bits and pieces, homicide detective David Madison (Robert Forster) is brought in to get to the bottom of things.  His first trip into the sewer yields revealing clues in the form of his partner being eaten by Ramon.  No one believes his story, not his gravel voiced boss (Michael Gazzo), not the press, and especially not the crooked Mayor (Jack Carter), at least until Ramon bursts up through the sidewalk and starts gobbling up people left and right.  When David fails to locate Ramon quickly enough, the Mayor fires him and brings in smug, racist big game hunter, Col. Brock (Henry Silva) to get the job done—which he does, as long as the job was to feed the alligator.  It’s up to David and perky herpetologist Marisa Kendall (Robin Riker) to stop the oversized beast’s reign of terror, after it gobbles up every deserving victim in town.  

ALLIGATOR is another proud contender in the beloved sub-genre of JAWS rip-offs, where an assortment of deadly shark substitutes are inserted into the same basic plot.  Other vicious variants include smaller fish (PIRANHA), larger fish (ORCA – okay, not really a fish), bears (GRIZZLY), and cars (THE CAR).  They are fun because they all try to shoehorn some of the JAWS staples (dismissive city officials, cynical hunter, disastrous community celebration, etc.) into sometimes wildly inappropriate settings, but each one has its own unique flavor.  ALLIGATOR moves the action straight to the mean streets of Chicago (actually Los Angeles).  

One of the best things about this version is the lead actor, Robert Forster, playing the Chief Brody role.  Forster is always a pleasure to watch.  He brings friendly, blue collar charm to all his characters, from his leading man days of the ‘70’s and ‘80s, up to his later supporting roles, like JACKIE BROWN.  His depiction of detective David is perfect for the tone of the movie, with enough dry humor to make him fun, but not enough to turn the whole thing into a joke.  He can make self-deprecating jokes (there’s a running gag about his receding hairline) without coming off like a sad sack.  He is manly enough to be a tough guy, but sensitive enough to have a sweet relationship with Marisa (the lady version of Hooper, though thankfully not a lady version of Richard Dreyfuss).

The other great thing about ALLIGATOR is the refreshingly straightforward script.  Written by genre scribe extraordinaire, John Sayles, the story unselfconsciously delivers the goods.  If a character is shady, he is guaranteed to die violently and usually as a direct result of his own actions.  Wondering what happened to that little girl whose dad flushed Ramon down the drain 12 year ago? Yep, it’s Marisa the gator scientist.  She even mentioned that she had a baby alligator when she was a kid.  If someone makes a passing comment about methane pockets in the sewer tunnels, you can be damn sure it comes up later in a big way.  This script does not have time for clever connections or sly twists.  It’s the anti-Shyamalan.

I really appreciate the hardline stance the movie takes on jerks.  The closest it comes to being subtle is the shifty pet shop owner played by Sydney Lassick.  He seems harmless enough, but there is something a little off about him (because he’s Sydney Lassick).  Soon enough, he’s out pet napping pooches to sell as test subjects to Helms (James Ingersoll), the despicable pharmaceutical scientist who is so evil, he only experiments on puppies.  The pet shop owner meets his toothy end while disposing of hormonally altered dog corpses in the sewer, which is the reason Ramon grew so large in the first place.  The only part of the body left to find is his leg, still wearing an alligator leather shoe.  Double irony!

The next deserving victim is the sleazy journalist, Kemp (Bart Braverman), who goes out of his way to bring up David’s traumatic past (ha ha, you got your partner killed!) in every news story.  He sneaks onto crime scenes, stages photos, and slathers the movie with a thick layer of smarm whenever he’s on camera.  Kemp is exactly what President Trump thinks all reporters who don’t work for Fox News are like.  I’ll bet he has the clip of a screaming Kemp being devoured playing on a loop on his phone during every press conference.  Just kidding!  Trump doesn’t give press conferences.

The gator doesn’t dine exclusively on assholes, though.  Kelly (Perry Lang), the fresh faced rookie who volunteers to fish around in the tunnels with David, gets gobbled up pretty quick (not helping David’s reputation of being hard on partners).  The many nameless cops and civilians who fall prey to Ramon couldn't have been all bad.  There is even a cute little kid who gets pushed into a pool where the man-eater is chilling and disappears in a cloud of red.  JAWS rip-offs are classically merciless on adorable moppets.  

That said, Ramon eats a lot of assholes.  The bigger they are, the more satisfying their death scene.  They don’t come much bigger than the legendary big game hunter, Brock.  He’s equivalent to the Quint character, minus any redeeming qualities.  Henry Silva always had a talent for playing reprehensible folk, and he really takes it up a notch with Brock.  He actually breaks up the standard JAWS trifecta of Lawman/Scientist/Hunter because the Hunter is so obnoxious that the Lawman and Scientist don’t want anything to do with him.  Not only is Brock arrogant, sexist, and lecherous, he is super racist.  In one scene, he hires a few African Americans from the neighborhood to be his bearers, literally to carry all his shit.  The motherfucker even calls them “natives”.  However much money the Mayor coughed up for this guy’s services, he seriously overpaid.  Brock tracks Ramon into an alley, but is completely surprised when the giant bursts out from under a huge trash pile and chomps down on his ass.  Some great white hunter he turned out to be.  I hope his bearers got paid in advance.

The cherry on top of the carnage pie, though, is the outdoor wedding.  It is the perfect storm of scumbags.  After discussing their illegal business dealings, Slade (Dean Jagger), the greedy, amoral head of the pharmaceutical company, invites the Mayor to his daughter’s wedding.  Slade introduces him to his soon to be son-in-law, who turns out to be—wait for it—Helms, the despicable head scientist who started the whole mess to begin with.  

Naturally, Ramon is instinctively drawn to this literal buffet of bastards like a hipster to mustache wax.  What follows is an orgy of well-deserved death.  Helms gets thoroughly chewed up (he is not getting that tuxedo deposit back), the Mayor is torn into while pleading to be let into Slade’s limo, and Ramon flattens the old man’s car with him inside.  Several incidental party guests get taken out as well, but given that they were there at Slade’s invitation, they couldn’t be all that innocent.   At least the bride makes it out alive, and is left weeping over the loss of her douchebag groom.  Trust me, lady, you dodged a bullet there.  You should be thanking the alligator.

This movie just goes to show you don’t need an elaborate plot or a unique concept to make an incredibly entertaining movie.  The fact that Sayles struck gold a second time using the same basic premise a couple of years later with PIRANHA is further proof.  All that is really needed is a director with a steady hand, (Corman vet Lewis Teague, in this case), a snappy script, and a few charismatic (or quirky) leads.  Oh, and never underestimate the appeal of comeuppance.  Mean people don’t always get what they deserve in real life, but in the movies, karma is an enormous, sharp-toothed bitch.

C Chaka

Frankenstein’s Movie - DOOMSDAY

There are a lot of options out there to satisfy your thirst for post-apocalyptic action.  Try a little After the Bomb highway mayhem.  Maybe a good dystopian future is your thing.  Zombies are always a possibility.  Or, if you're Neil Marshall in 2008, you could just chop it all up and haphazardly sew the pieces into a lurching genre monstrosity called DOOMSDAY.

The Capsule:

Sometime in the early 21 century, Scotland is plagued by the Reaper Virus (note to scientists, don’t let heavy metal bands name your virus).  In order to contain the infection, the British government walls off the entire country.  When the Reaper Virus resurfaces in London 30-odd years later, the government sends an elite military team into the wasteland in search of Dr. Kane (Malcolm McDowell), who was working on a cure.  Led by badass Major Sinclair (Rhona Mitra), the team must battle hordes of cannibal punks and medieval knights (!) through decaying cities, open roadways, and tourist attractions of post-apocalyptic Scotland.  Even if they manage to find a cure and get out, they will have to deal with Canaris (David O'Hara), a nefarious politician who may not have the public’s best interest at heart.

DOOMSDAY is another case of the advantage of going in with super low expectations.  I heard this movie was terrible, even from a person who’s taste is remarkably close to mine (yes, those people do exist).  But I enjoyed director Neil Marshall’s other work, DOG SOLDIERS and especially THE DESCENT, so I figured as long as it wasn’t a bunch of people leaning in the corner pissing themselves for two hours, I would get something out of it.  I am happy to say it is not two hours of people pissing themselves.  It has some serious problems, but despite everything, I kind of dug it.  

This movie can make no claims at originality.  It’s filled with such blatant lifts that it can’t even be called homage with a serious face.  Obviously, I have no problem with rip-offs (see GRIZZLY, THE CAR,
HUMANOIDS FROM THE DEEP), even unofficial remakes like LOCKOUT.  The interesting thing with DOOMSDAY is that it doesn’t just rip-off one film, it rips-off a half dozen of them and blends them together into an oddball smoothie.  DOOMSDAY is clearly a take on ESCAPE FROM NEW YORK and ROAD WARRIOR, but it also has elements of GHOST IN THE SHELL (the anime), ALIENS, 28 DAYS LATER, and most bizarrely, EXCALIBUR.  

It is amusing how brazen Marshall is about his cinematic larceny.   He’s kind of playfully smirking about it.  A Carpenter-esque electronic theme plays when Sinclair is being briefed about sneaking into and escaping from the Scottish surrogate for New York.  Two minor characters are named Carpenter and Miller.  The open roads are filled with MAD MAX cast offs, even though there is no real reason for it.  The scene where Sinclair’s team searches Kane’s seemingly abandoned lab evokes ALIENS so intentionally that they use some of the same dialogue.  Armored Personnel Carriers (APCs)—check, yellow rotating emergency lights—check, close quarter gun battles against silent, relentless foes—check.  The only thing missing was a power loader, and that is just because it suddenly changed gears back to ESCAPE FROM NEW YORK.  

Major Sinclair is more GHOST IN THE SHELL’s Major Motoko than Snake Plissken (although she does occasionally wears an eye patch when she’s using her robot eye to look around corners).   Rhona Mitra—who, it turns out, is not Cate Beckinsale—plays her with an icy proficiency.  She never loses her cool even when she is surrounded by people who want to kill and/or eat her.  The closest she comes is her irritation at the guard who keeps whacking her with his spear while she’s trying to talk, up until the moment she kills him with one blow.  Do not interrupt this woman.

She is such a badass that her boss gives her 46 hours to complete her mission.  If they had given her the full two days, she would have just spent the last two hours waiting at the extraction site, smoking.  They had to make it challenging for her.

Sol (Craig Conway), the chairperson of the Glasgow Cannibal League (not sure if that is the official title), is a kick.  He lacks Issac Hayes’ A1 King of New York coolness, but he makes up for it in batshit showmanship. His court is like a post-apocalyptic Cirque du Soleil, with brawling punks spinning on ropes, fire jugglers, and bikers doing stunts in the center ring.  Sol comes strutting out on stage with his fur lined leather coat and receding Mohawk, The Fine Young Cannibals blaring from the speakers.  He gets the crowd amped up about the impending execution/barbecue of one of his captives by throwing paper plates to the crowd.  It’s more of a symbolic gesture; these guys are more into grabbing handfuls of cooked meat than having a proper picnic.  

In fact, I think the whole cannibal angle is mostly for show.  There don’t seem to be enough non-cannibal affiliated people around for these guys to sustain a full man eating lifestyle.  Plus, it is shown that there are huge herds of wild cows just outside of Glasgow, so they are clearly not desperate for food.  Cannibalism is merely a status thing in Scotland.  Every once in a while they make a big show out of eating a dude.  They are kind of like lapsed Catholics only going to Mass at Christmas.  

Malcolm McDowell’s role is not nearly as meaty (cannibal pun!).  Kane is the standard brilliant scientist driven mad by isolation and paranoia, holding power through ruthless dogma.  He makes grandiose but senseless statements like, “In the land of the infected, the immune man is king.”  Since all the hundreds of survivors in Scotland are immune, doesn’t that make everyone a king?  Clearly people just go along with him because Malcolm McDowell makes everything sound dramatic and important.

More interesting by far is the whacked out medieval world he’s built.  His people haven’t just adopted a simpler way of life, they’ve gone full Renaissance Fair.  There are serfs and blacksmiths and dudes with hay carts.  I think I saw Hodor in one crowd shot.  Sinclair even has a fight with the Black Knight!  I am sure none of the extras had any idea they were in a movie set in the future.  And as soon as they escape the castle, bam, straight into the ROAD WARRIOR.  You could get whiplash from this movie.  

You could also get whiplash from the fight scenes, which unquestionably are the worst thing about the movie.  They are cut so quick and shaky, I had no idea what was going on most of the time.  Sinclair’s fight with Sol’s girlfriend, Tattoo Face (Lee-Anne Liebenberg, officially named Viper, but I’m sure you will agree Tattoo Face is more appropriate), is an absolute nightmare.  It plays out like an epileptic seizure until the moment Tattoo Face gets decapitated.  At least Marshall gave us a moment to appreciate that gag.

The Black Knight fight at least provided a few wide shots that last more than a half second.  This was especially important since the opponents are so unevenly matched (he has a full suit of armor, she has a tank top).  It does establish that she has the advantage of speed and she targets the knight’s weak spots, making her victory at least somewhat plausible, but the whole thing could have been done so much better.  Given that Marshall (and his DP, Sam McCurdy) went on to do some absolutely eye popping fight sequences for Game of Thrones, this seems especially embarrassing.  The problem is more with the editing, my opinion.  This is a great looking movie and many of the shots are beautifully composed.  It's a pity you barely get the chance to see them.

Then there are the ROAD WARRIOR sequences, which have their own issues.  It is a nice juxtaposition to see a bunch of crazy, spiked up wasteland vehicles chasing after a brand new, shiny Bentley, but if you are competing with George Miller at his own game, you are going to lose.  The bad guy’s cars look more conspicuously designed than efficiently and realistically pieced together, and there just isn’t enough creative stunt work.  There are a few nice moments, like when the Bentley drives straight through Sol’s Murderbus.  It’s an impressive endorsement for Bentley, because the car makes it through without a scratch.  Forget muscle cars and tanks, this is the baby you want to be tooling around in after the fall of civilization.  

It’s also a cute touch that Sol has his dead girlfriend propped up beside him in his car, and she keeps getting more and more accidental abuse.  It turns out to be a very misguided gesture of affection.

Even though he stumbles on the action, Marshall sticks to his horror roots and makes it nice and bloody (at least in the unrated version I have).  The squibs are super juicy, heads explode, and the virus makeup is mega gross and boily.  The wide eyed doctor from Sinclair’s team actually stops running for a second just so he can wince when a biker punk has a messy wipeout.  Overall, it is very satisfying.  

Another bright spot in the movie is Sinclair’s boss, Bill Nelson, played by Bob Hoskins.  He’s mostly just in the 28 DAYS LATER style London under siege by the infected scenes, and he plays the same guy Bob Hoskins always plays, but any Bob Hoskins is refreshing.  I love that he represents the Cockney perspective in the austere, upper crust Parliamentary briefings.  He gets to use the phrases “tits-up” and “fuck-all” in the same speech.  It’s a nice counter to Alexander Siddig’s wimpy Prime Minister Hatcher and the overtly evil Canaris.  

In the end [Spoiler], Sinclair gives Nelson the recording she made of Canaris’ boasting about letting all the poor people in London die out before offering the cure to the virus.  The implication being that Nelson will release it to cause a huge public outcry against Canaris.  Because we all know that releasing a recording of damaging statements and showing a cavalier attitude toward abuse of power will end a politician's career instantly.  Unless Canaris explains it was just “locker room talk”.

Extra crazy points for the last scene.  Sinclair has decided to stay in the Scottish Wastelands, for some reason.  She goes back to Glasgow and presents the cannibal punks with Sol’s head.  After a second to reflect, they all cheer and accept Sinclair as their new leader.  I don’t quite see her motivation for doing that, but those guys do seem like a fun bunch and they really know how to throw a barbecue, so why not?  

In keeping with the theme, though, it is a totally rip off of the end of FURY ROAD.  Wait a minute…

C Chaka   

Caution – Objects in Mirror May Be About To Kill You: THE CAR

Readers of this site will know that I’m kinda obsessed with JAWS rip-offs.  I love all the crazy variations they come up with to milk the tried and true money making formula.  I've already written about a JAWS with a giant land mammal (GRIZZLY) and one with fish monsters (HUMANOIDS FROM THE DEEP).  It seems obvious to take it to the next logical step: JAWS with a devil car in the desert.  Strange as it is,1977’s THE CAR is actually a clever combination of our fear of creatures that may kill us and our fascination with a thing that, far more often, really does kill us.

The Capsule:

The sleepy town of Santa Ynez, Utah is rocked (in the bad way) when a mysterious, demonic black car shows up out of nowhere and starts mowing down innocent pedestrians.  The cops seem powerless to stop the car, except momentarily, while it backs up over their bodies.  It’s up to an extremely young James Brolin to put an end to the supernatural death machine before everyone in town becomes a red stain on the road.

The Car is unquestionably the most evil looking vehicle ever.  CHRISTINE could be sinister with the right lighting, but it was just a 1958 Plymouth Fury.  The truck from DUEL was extremely menacing, but again, it was just an existing vehicle.  The green goblin truck from MAXIMUM OVERDRIVE was… sorry, can’t stop laughing enough to finish that thought.  The Car is its own beast.  The 1971 Lincoln Continental Mark III at its base is almost unrecognizable underneath all the extensive modification.   The headlights are wide, hungry eyes. There are fangs on its huge, reinforced bumper.  It is unnaturally low and muscular.  It is not a crazy apocalypse car like from one of the MAD MAX films or DEATH RACE 2000.  The Car is something you could conceivably see on the road, especially if you are Guillermo del Toro, who actually had a replica build for himself.  I can guarantee he does not have a problem with tailgaters.  Not for long, anyway.

Since the movie follows the JAWS model, the mayhem starts right off the bat.  In the first scene, The Car appears out of nowhere to run down a couple of carefree ten-speed riding teens.  As it rips through the desert dust in beautiful, extended long shots, The Car appears as a swimming predator.  While the shark from JAWS was an indiscriminate killer,  The Car seems to have a very calculating, malicious intent.  It specifically goes after the innocent and the protectors.  The racist wife abuser Amos, played by crusty old coot character actor R.G. Armstrong, is ignored multiple times by The Car in favor of more sympathetic victims.  Whenever it takes someone out, it rapidly honks its horrible sounding horn like it’s laughing.  It’s so much of a jerk that it goes after an entire middle school marching band.  

Like GRIZZLY, THE CAR is an example of the kind of shit you could get away with in a PG movie in the ‘70’s.  It’s not quite as, um, grizzly as GRIZZLY.  No children are killed or maimed, though plenty are endangered.  The bloodiest bit is when one of the ten-speeder victims gets dragged against a wall and her mangled body is found afterwards.  Nothing else it that rough, but The Car pulps a lot of people.  The sound effects add to the viciousness of the attacks.  The impacts are very resounding and visceral.  Even without all the blood and body parts flying across the screen, THE CAR could be even more traumatic to young viewers than GRIZZLY, or JAWS.  A fearful, impressionable kid could stay clear of the woods or the ocean, but cars are everywhere.  In fact, the only place you could totally avoid cars would be the woods or the ocean.  You’re screwed, kids of the ‘70’s.  

This is definitely a stuntman’s (and stuntwoman’s) movie.  People are thrown off bridges, driven over cliffs, and smacked around like pinatas (except with cars instead of sticks).  There is one absolutely crazy stunt where The Car is racing towards two police cars driving side by side.  The Car swerves at high speed and rolls on its side, smashing into the windshields of both cop cars at once.   It's like a trick a kid would do with Matchbox cars, except they did it for real.

James Brolin, younger here than his son Josh is currently, plays the increasingly desperate Sheriff Wade.  He actually starts off as a Deputy Sheriff, but is promoted by attrition pretty damn quickly.  With his handlebar mustache and often bare barrel chest, he’s the definition of macho.  The best thing about the movie, though, is how it subverts Brolin’s character.  Despite his rugged tough guy appearance, his sensitivity is established right away by his loving interactions with his girlfriend Lauren and his two daughters.  Even though he is a smart lawman who comes up with sound strategies against the vehicular menace, nothing works.  The Car is impervious to bullets, explosions, or damage of any kind, it seems.  Wade is powerless to protect the citizens of his town or even his loved ones.  As the movie goes on, you see him get increasingly desperate and anguished.  The Car, being the jerk that it is, even messes with Wade.  It could have killed him numerous times, but it keeps him alive to torment him.

One of the best scenes in the movie (there are two absolutely fantastic ones) is in Wade’s garage.  He and the remaining cops have devised a trap that might take out The Car.  Wade is just about to head out to the climax on his dirt bike when he remembers something and pops back into his garage.  And guess who’s waiting for him?  What makes the scene great is that there is no build up to it.  The camera smoothly follows Wade across the garage.  He passes The Car parked in the back without noticing.  There is no ominous music, close-ups, or lingering shots, nothing to cause tension or indicate anything is wrong.  It goes by so casually it made me doubt what I saw.  It couldn’t have been The Car; it must have just been Wade’s regular car or something.  Then Wade suddenly has the same realization, turns around, and oh shit, it is The Car.  There is no explanation of how it got there, it just is.  And Wade is in a shitload of trouble.

The other amazing scene involves Wade’s outspoken school teacher girlfriend, Lauren (Kathleen Lloyd).  During the marching band attack, Lauren directs the kids into a tiny, fence enclosed graveyard.  The Car can’t go in, presumably because it is hallowed ground, or maybe The Car just has a strong respect for the dead.  Probably the hallowed ground thing.  Whatever the reason, it is clearly pissed, revving its engine and honking at the gate.  While another teacher gets ready to make a run for help, Lauren distracts The Car by taunting and laughing at it.  She basically says it has a little dick.  The Car gets progressively angrier, doing donuts in a fury.  Lauren is terrified, since there is no physical barrier between her and the infernal machine, but she keeps on sneering and making fun of it until her plan works.  Lauren survives that encounter, but now the petulant metal bully is holding a grudge.  [Spoiler coming]  That night, she’s at her house packing to leave town.  As she’s talking to Wade on the phone, two headlights appear in the distance through the picture window.  In one unbroken shot, we watch the headlights get closer and closer while Lauren is looking away.  She only notices when it is too late. The Car plows straight through the house and drives away without ever slowing down.  


It’s a great scene because it shows that all bets are off.  Nowhere is safe from this thing.  

As I’ve mentioned here before, I love when a movie leaves a little mystery to the story.  THE CAR has a trunk load of mystery (a ‘70’s style trunk, so it’s very roomy).  There is never an explanation of exactly where The Car came from or what it is.  It is clearly supernatural, and Ronnie Cox’s church going deputy character figures it must be from hell, but there is never an established link between it and the Christian devil (other than the Church of Satan founder Anton LaVey's quote at the beginning).  The Navajo characters talk about it more like an evil spirit.  That might be a better explanation, since The Car never hurts any of the Native Americans.  Wouldn’t it be great if it was an Indian spirit taking vengeance on the white man by adopting the form of one of the white man’s favorite obsessions?  Squashed by irony.  

In the end, Wade and his crew seem to have stopped the metal beast.  They blow up a canyon and bury it under hundreds of tons of rock.  A demonic shape forms in the ensuing fireball before dissipating completely. It’s not a victorious moment.  Everyone is too exhausted and numb to celebrate.  Faced with something so far out of their understanding, they are lucky just to have survived.  The credits play over a low angle shot fixed on one of The Car’s tires as it wheels around a new city, so maybe that wasn’t the end of it after all.

Director Elliot Silverstein was mainly known for TV work and westerns before this, and went back to TV afterwards.  It's a pity.  He brought a sense of depth and seriousness to what could have been a very silly movie.  I would have liked to see him continue in this vein.  Director of Photography Gerald Hirschfeld has not done much that I’m familiar with, but he pulled off some very beautiful widescreen desert shots for this movie.  Kathleen Lloyd went on to do the killer baby movie, IT LIVES AGAIN, plus a ton of TV.  Star James Brolin would continue his successful acting career, culminating in his most famous role, of course, as the Hollywood version of Pee-Wee Herman in PEE-WEE’S BIG ADVENTURE.  The Car allegedly still roams the L.A. hills, doing weekend motor tours of the area.  The price is your soul.  And $85 per passenger.

C Chaka