Review: Mike Jittlov, The Wizard of Speed and Time (sf film)

Alan P. Scott - Rants - Reviews


Mike Jittlov's short foray into pixilation, a favorite at sf cons for years, has been expanded into a delightful full-length movie now available on videotape. The film, by the poor-but-honest special-effects wizard Jittlov, is the loopily self-referential story of a poor but honest special-effects Wizard (played by Jittlov) trying to get an autobiographical movie called The Wizard of Speed and Time (about a poor but honest special-effects wizard!) off the ground in the viciously money-hungry atmosphere of Hollyweird, and finally succeeding, not through channels, but through Jittlov's (or the Wizard's) unfailing honesty and goodwill. Not to mention a few Wizardly tricks. The bike-alarm is especially effective. But it is Jittlov's (Wizard's) essential goodness that carries the day, providing a deeper moral message that brings coherence to the giggly Muppetlike mania that pervades the movie on the surface.

Jittlov has included clips and whole chunks from all of his earlier work, including the fantastic cityscapes of Animato and the entirety of the short The Wizard of Speed and Time, as well as fun new footage, including an extended "car chase" that in itself would justify the price of admission. The film justifies its own premise, though, simply by existing - reaffirming something that often seems harder and harder to believe nowadays, that sometimes the good guys do win, and that it is possible to make a good movie for adults and kids alike without commercialization, sex (mostly), violence (other than mild slapstick), or profanity. As gloomy, "cool," big-budget, nihilistic, slick, commercial, bloody and ultimately soulless as Batman or Total Recall were, this one ain't. And frankly it may be a better movie for it. Every rental of this movie is a blow against the corpulent state of the corporate film industry - SEE IT NOW! SEE IT OFTEN! AND WHEN YOU'RE DONE, SEE IT AGAIN!

I have spoken.

Original content on this page © Alan P. Scott. All rights reserved.

Contact me: