"The Foreigner" wasn't the first underground movie I ever saw, but I was tempted to make it my last. Clearly influenced by Andy Warhol, writer-director Amos Poe's movie is, at first glance, appealing for featuring a lot of familiar faces from the 1970s punk/new wave scene (most notably Deborah Harry, but also Anya Phillips, Patti Astor, and the Cramps), as well as treating us to shots of New York in all its grimy glamor. But while the movie is interesting as a time capsule, it's insufferable as a 90-minute film (not 77 minutes as this site lists, or viewers would hope). Eric Mitchell is the titular foreigner Max Menace, a dour blond secret agent whose reason for being in New York is as vague as the reasons so many people want him dead. His wandering around NYC comprises the bulk of the movie. Sometimes he's hanging out in his room at the Chelsea Hotel; sometimes he's held captive by an verbally abusive harpy; sometimes he's getting beaten up at CBGBs; but mostly Max is just wandering, much as the movie wanders.If you're watching this for Deborah Harry (my reason for checking this one out), you'll have to wait almost an hour for an appearance that lasts maybe three minutes. "Hey blondie, got a cigarette?" she asks our protagonist, her voice sounding as if it were looped in a subway station restroom. Between puffs she sings a German song (her "character" name is Dee Trick), then… well, that's it. And even though it's not much of a scene, it's one of "The Foreigner's" better moments, especially if you're a Deborah Harry fan.I could overlook the movie's technical shortcomings – lousy sound, iffy cinematography, bad acting – but not the crushing dullness of its barely-there narrative. Though Warhol made some patience-trying movies in his day, he at least had the good sense to pander to our prurient interests now and again. Poe, on the other hand, doesn't appeal to our interests at all, prurient or otherwise.

The '70s, being perhaps the most creative decade in modern cinema, produced some obscure stuff and No Wave is pretty obscure. I can't say this is great film making, but it sure is great that people made stuff like this. Amateur actors plus a bad script can be a pretty deadly combination but this film is interesting enough to warrant curiosity among those interested in the No Wave/post-punk era in New York City. Poe's style is artistic with long takes (too long) that includes some good night scene shots of New York street life that remind of early Godard, and a great severe angle shot of the World Trade Center. But, if nothing else, Poe certainly had a finger on the pulse of New York's underground c.1977. There are some great live club performances highlighted by a nihilistic punk/mosh pit beat up of our protagonist at CBGB's. The budget was reportedly $5,000 (I believe it) which along with the amateur actors and location shooting on the streets, resulted in the worst sound I've heard in a film. The dialog was often inaudible. But the music track wasn't and is worth watching the movie for: electronic/tonal pieces, very good acoustical numbers, and the live performances. Most of the actors were undoubtedly Poe's friends or art students or, I don't know, maybe just runaways he found in Times Square. But he did have a couple of pros: Debbie Harry (she was probably the best actor and had only one scene) and New York underground actress Patti Astor. Also this film has a running time of 90 minutes, not 77 as IMDb says. The film is not in great shape and I don't see the UCLA Film Archive doing a restoration of it any time soon.

A step forward from "Unmade Beds," this black-and-white, semi-improvised movie with late '70s punk elements is obviously influenced by Godard and Warhol (as Amos Poe frankly admits on the DVD commentary). Yes, it has its maddening, amateurish elements (such as bad sound), but it also has something intriguing going on in the photography and in the idea of minimal, "existential" filmmaking. Poe reports that Jim Jarmusch liked this film and it influenced his "Permanent Vacation"--one can see this clearly.

New Wave cinema in all its...um...glory? This mediocre "art" film follows the foreigner, a one Max Menace, as he quotes Hesse in a non-descript European accent, and runs around the streets of NYC, on the lam from...someone--it's not quite clear. The best part of this film is without a doubt the rag-tag gang of punks that are chasing our hero, that is, when they're not busy banging their heads on the wall or playing with knives. Then there's the appearences of late '70's NY icons like Debbie Harry, Anya Phillips, Pati Astor, and punk venue CBGB's, which are the only reasons why I sat through this mess in the first place. How can such an exciting philosophy as existentialism, produce such boring art? P.S.Watch out for the Cramps (as the 'Erasers') blasphemous version of the Iggy/Bowie tune "Fun Time".