a review of 翼龙

This movie about a legendary winged serpent has two things going for it: One is an unpredictable screeching monster eating all the scenery, and the other one is Quetzalcoatl. I'm speaking of course about Michael Moriarty's utterly bugnuts turn as would-be getaway driver and small-time hood Jimmy Quinn, who turns out to be real protagonist of the film. He's giving a gung-ho method performance that wouldn't be out of place in a gritty 70s crime picture, except it's in an 80s monster movie. Most films of this type would center on the police investigation of the ritual murders, the cultists committing them, or maybe even some random sexy young people who get eaten. But this movie takes the unusual tack of pushing all of that to the sidelines in favor of Quinn's hard luck loser story, which is both hysterical and more often than not a bit tedious. Pretty much every time the A-plot threatens to lurch forward, Quinn shows up to either offer his assistance to the police, or waste everyone's time with a breathless monologue about growing up on the mean streets. Moriarty is literally stealing the movie out from under the other actors, and it's strangely entertaining once you realize what's happening.