Lost At War (2007)

After almost ten years away from the movie business, David A Prior chose to return, for reasons unknown. Well, “because he was broke” is probably the reason, although information about the man is tough to come by on the internet so it might have been anything. I hope he wasn’t fighting cancer or caring for a sick relative or something like that.


He’s produced something rather curious here, as writer, director and editor. They make reference to “The Twilight Zone”, and I guess it’s the closest comparison, but it’s shot through with those Prior trademarks and obsessions from way back at the beginning of his career, and is quite the unusual movie.


In a forest which is supposed to be the Middle East but looks suspiciously like either Alabama or California, a group of five soldiers are on a mission – Captain Briggs (Ted Prior), Turner (former Prior regular Jack Vogel), Falkner (Jim Marlow), McCune (Adam Stuart) and Smith (James Brinkley). They do their thing, shoot some bad guys, and as they’re about to return to base, one “terrorist” escapes. Smith is ready to shoot him in the back, but Briggs stops him, saying they’ll worry about him tomorrow. This almost, sort of, becomes relevant later. Anyway, back to base they go, and their CO gives them one more mission – a recon of another enemy base, and if they do it, Briggs will get to go home two weeks early. So off they go.


These first ten minutes or so feel comfortable for those of us who’ve followed Prior for over 30 movies. Small group of soldiers, unidentified war, unidentified enemy, walking through the forest, military base comprised of a bunch of tents…the building blocks are very familiar. But as soon as they set off on their recon mission, everything goes a little odd. Walking through a bamboo “tunnel”, they find the base but it’s empty, and the woods around the base are infested with mysterious black-clad beings who don’t want to get any closer, ignore being shot, and fade away as soon as they appear.


Jumping into a foxhole, they eat their rations, but Smith wishes he had a big old family feast, and when they open the nondescript steel box in the hole next to them, it’s full of delicious food! Then he wishes for beer, and beer appears!


I’m going to struggle to recap any more of this movie without giving away spoilers; but I’ll try. We begin getting flashbacks which, eventually, show the lives of the five men were connected before they ever ended up there, but in weirdly tenuous ways. For example, Smith stopped a robbery in a 7-11, and the woman he helped was the girlfriend of one of the other soldiers, whose son was shot in a random act of violence, whose best friend played baseball and the coach was a soldier…


The curious calmness of the men, as the Twilight Zone-esque things continue to happen to them, is curious, and the ending is curiouser still. It feels like David A Prior had big plans, and really wanted to talk about the human condition and fate and so on, but had absolutely no idea how to wrap the story up. Or perhaps he was aiming for the extreme bleakness that a literal reading of the last five minutes would give you.


It’s five men, sat in a hole, talking about their lives. They’re probably not soldiers (why would a cop in his late 40s suddenly sign up and become a Captain? Or an insurance salesman / baseball coach? Was it originally going to be a story about five paintballers who get slipped some hallucinogens?) but you can’t just dismiss it as a failure. I mean, it is a failure, but Prior tries, he writes an often interesting script, gets some good performances out of his cast, and there’s a sadness at its core which lingers with you. My wife, who’s begun to resent Prior as this is literally all the movies we’ve watched for several months, even put down her magazine and started to get into this one.


“Lost At War” seems to have disappeared completely from the consciousness of even Prior diehards. One lonely IMDB review, no cult sites have picked it up, no nothing…which is a shame, as up to the last few minutes, it’s right at the top of Prior’s movies. That he really messed up the landing shouldn’t detract from the interesting first 85 minutes.


Rating: a Prior-sized thumbs up



The Grand Tour (1992)

According to IMDB, this initially went under the name of ‘Timescape’ and missed out on a cinema release, but was retitled ‘Grand Tour: Disaster in Time’ for the home video market. I’ll admit to being sceptical of this, as A: My old VHS copy clearly says ‘Timescape’ and B: ‘Grand Tour: Disaster in Time is a clunkier (but vaguely more apt) title. In the interest of slightly pathetic obligation to the notion of canon, the title sequence within the version I’m reviewing simply reads ‘The Grand Tour’, so I’ll stick with that. Directed by David N Twohy (best known for Pitch Black and stilted attempts at a Riddick franchise), it’s a time travel movie, but one unhampered by the populism and economic success of, say, Back To The Future or Bill & Ted’s Excellent Adventure. In fact, to this day it has eluded a DVD release in this country. The production is certainly humble enough to befit its obscurity, but there are enough original beats, not to mention a terrific central performance, that do deserve it some elevation (or failing that, waffle), by me, here, now.

Jeff Daniels stars as Ben Wilson, a still-grieving widower in the process of renovating a guest-house on the outskirts of town with his daughter Hilary (Ariana Richards). The pair are joined by a tour group, headed by the dubiously magnanimous Madame Iovine (Marilyn Lightstone), who insists on paying upfront for them to stay in the largely unfurnished building. Ben is instantly wary of the party’s eccentric behaviour, but has bigger problems in the shape of his late wife’s father, Judge Caldwell (George Murdock). Caldwell explicitly blames Ben for her death, and is encroaching upon his custody of Hilary. Long story short, the tour group are in fact (spoilers follow) time travellers from an immaculate-but-dull future, passively witnessing historical disasters in a callously decadent fashion. Their presence heralds the arrival of catastrophe, as a meteorite decimates the town and its population. Before their subsequent departure, a sympathetic time tourist slips Ben one of their passports. With his daughter’s life in the balance, Ben travels back in time to help set things right.

The film plays out like a feature-length episode of The Twilight Zone or The Outer Limits, where the one-shot, high-concept premise is often contained within a folksy, small-town setting. In fact, the film is based on a short story called Vintage Season, written by one-time Twilight Zone contributors Lawrence O’Donnell and C.L.Moore. The Grand Tour avoids the pitfalls of similar-minded movies by not spending the post-reveal run time on a futile expansion of its own mythology (see Richard Kelly’s The Box, be my guest). Instead, once the penny drops and the second act begins, the plot takes the premise to a logical conclusion, but one that’s unafraid of cutting the Gordian knot at the expense of a more coherent finale.

The trouble with time travel stories is simply this; messing with time means messing with plot. Certain events already established may become undone, paradoxical, or rendered arbitrary by the protagonist’s ability to change it on a whim. If the traveller cannot change the past, say due to some form of predeterminist cosmological policy, then that can also feel arbitrary, not to mention unsatisfactory to the audience, as ideas are refused permission to conclude. What would actually happen if you went back and killed your grandfather? What’s more satisfying to see, the gun jamming for no reason, or the very fabric of reality unweaving in a psychedelic visual feast? Well, both are pretty stupid, but at least the latter would make for a better screensaver. ‘The Grand Tour’ has no such dazzling display, but it does allow the third act to delve into willful paradox, as Ben travels back 24 hours and teams up with the Ben from earlier on in the film. This twist allows for another unique trump card, as Ben literally confronts himself about his cowardice and complicity in his wife’s death. It’s a surprisingly harrowing sequence for such daytime-style melodrama and provides an unusual wrinkle to some otherwise forthright characterisation.

There’s no denying the TV-movie production values, but Jeff Daniels provides a much-needed emotional centre, judging the tone perfectly and inhabiting the everyman role with relative comfort. There’s a pleasing incongruity to the tourists themselves, as they for the most part seem to have escaped from central casting in a mythical epicentre of the 1980s. Meanwhile, their resident ‘retropologist’ blunders against passing cars whilst gawping at contemporary telephone lines. It’s hard to imagine such a party spending much time in history before getting rumbled by someone at somepoint, but therein lies the joy of imagination. Also endearing is the reveal of their mufti; a barmy assortment of esoterica replete with Tin Man face paint and New Romantical garb. Truly the future is a place of wonder.

As is the way with much of live-action science fiction, ideas triumph over compromised execution. In the case of The Grand Tour, ideas include the emotional detachment that Time and Space afford us from tragedy and ultimately how arbitrary that detachment is. More satisfying is the notion that, for lack of a better metaphor, perhaps reality can let us kill grandad now and then.

– Nik Drou

The Grand Tour on IMDB