Catching Up With 2010: Capsule Review – Let Me In

Refocusing the context of Tomas Alfredson's 2008 film adaptation of John Lindqvist's novel Let the Right One In, Matt Reeves has created one of the best American horror films in years. It's not just that the film is a more visceral experience with a more horrifying undertone, but it's also a more emotional experience with better acting by its young actors (the fantastic Kodi Smit-McPhee and Chloe Moretz). I was completely floored by how much I liked Let Me In. That's mostly because I wasn't expecting anything from director Reeves (Cloverfield). All the credit is due to him, though, as he has not re-imagined (the most dreaded words in movies of the last ten years) or remade the wonderful 2008 film, but he has simply taken elements from the novel that spoke to him more personally and built a film out of those experiences. And it's easy to see the love for the source material Reeves has as Let Me In never feels like we're just seeing an Americanized version of the Swedish film. Sure, there are similar scenes (some even framed the same way), but Let Me In is its own movie without making the viewer pine for Alfredson's. In fact, the two can co-exist as different film experiences even thought they have the same source material, and that is maybe what is most fascinating and impressive about it. I also appreciated how Reeves trims the fat the story audiences know because of Alfredson's film. Let the Right One In is a great film, there's no debating that, but I've seen it three times now and each subsequent viewing makes me more aware of the superfluous material. Alfredson's film just kind of drags in parts as he's more interested in telling a more contemplative story that gets under your skin and lingers for a long time afterwards (atmosphere and nuance, not to mention ambiguity, are all strong points of emphasis for Alfredson). Reeves believes in these things, too (especially the restraint he shows in the films initial murder scene at a railroad crossing, and the way he and his DP shoot a car accident from the inside backseat), but he puts more emphasis on the coming of age aspect of the story (there's a great scene where Smit-McPhee quietly emotes like an old pro in a painful scene where his character Owen has a painfully emotional phone conversation with his part-time dad) and definitely more focus on how Abby (Moretz) has evil intentions towards Owen as she looks to recruit him for purposes other than friendship and love. Some people may say that Oskar and Eli from Let the Right One were the better relationship because Eli's intentions weren't so obvious, but that's what makes Let Me In so great: it doesn't do anything to tarnish the great things that Alfredson's film did with the source material. This is Reeves' vision, and it's a damn good one. Not only is the film atmospheric and a great vampire movie, but its better acted and more emotionally profound. It's definitely the biggest American surprise of 2010. I loved it.

Catching Up With 2010: Capsule Review – The Ghost Writer

There is a moment about halfway through The Ghost Writer where I had forgotten just how long I had been watching the movie. It felt like it had been about 20 minutes when in reality it was about 1 hour and 20 minutes. Roman Polanski's thriller is so efficient and so well made and polished that I lost myself in it. It's the type of thriller that relies on the tired old cliché of being "Hitchcockian", yet the cliché is apt because the film is as taut and expertly crafted as anything Hitch made. It's about as smooth a thriller that I've seen in years (a stark to contrast to one of my other favorite thrillers this year, the wonderfully grimy and cruelly ironic neo-noir The Square), but don't let its benign, British sheen throw you off: this is a nasty thriller with a final moment that seems out of place in most thrillers these days. It's a perfect coda to a film with secrets and the discovering of secrets. I've been elusive for a reason as the film's plot – and the slow unveiling of the story's mystery – is one of the things that allows the viewer to immerse themselves so deeply in the film. The acting – headed by Pierce Brosnan and Ewan McGregor – is top notch, and the film's aesthetic is the best Polanski has employed in years (I specifically loved the score by Alexandre Desplat which makes something as simple as the passing of a note the most suspenseful thing I've seen in a film this year). The Ghost Writer was released all the way back in February alongside another forgotten masterpiece of 2010: Martin Scorsese's Shutter Island. Both films, based on novels, are about men searching answers that will help unlock some truths; both films begin with ominous music as ferries approach a destination (Scorsese's ferry is enshrouded in fog; Polanski's ferry is clearly reaching its destination – both openings say a lot about their protagonists and the types of journeys they will embark on); and both films are expertly crafted thrillers by two masters that show they have no signs of slowing down. It's a refreshing reminded in this most banal of movie years that there are still two old masters out there making great movies. I have now seen The Ghost Writer twice. Upon my second viewing, I noticed a lot of the clues that help make sense of the film's dénouement, and one of the things I noticed most was that none of the film's momentum or suspense is lost after you know all of the film's information. Like any great film, The Ghost Writer becomes a richer experience with each subsequent viewing. It reminded me of the efficient, addictive prose of Ian McEwan, and the way he can conjure up suspense and irony while making it so accessible that it simultaneously works as a potboiler and as a more layered reading experience. The Ghost Writer left me, twice, with the same feeling. I can't wait to see it again.

Catching Up With 2010: Capsule Review – The Square

The Square is one of the best, most cruelly ironic neo-noirs since Sam Raimi's A Simple Plan. I love the restraint from the filmmakers where we hear things rather than see them, or how they simply let every ironic, violent, and cruel situation unfold without rushing through a single moment. It's rare to find a neo-noir these days that takes so much pleasure in the slow-burn downward spiral of its characters. The Square reminded me more of A Simple Plan than it did Blood Simple (the one movie everyone seems to be likening it to). In Sam Raimi's brilliant film it was blanket-clenching tension from beginning to end because we liked the main character (how could you not like Bill Paxton?) just enough (flaws and all…but what human doesn't have them) that we really did hope he got himself out of every impossible (and implausible) situation he found himself in. The price he pays at the end for putting the people he loves through hell seems fare in the eyes of fate. So too does it turn out the way for the characters in The Square. The two main characters – Carla (Claire van der Boom) and Raymond (David Roberts) – seem like nice enough people, and it is because of the actors and how they portray the characters' situation that we feel somewhat sorry for them by film's end. They're stuck in go-nowhere marriages and have been meeting for trysts for awhile; however, when the question of some ill-begotten money enters the equation, it throws their whole affair into a tailspin of misfortune and murder (when doesn't money do that in these types of films). This is a crucial element to any noir: that we simultaneously empathize with the characters' plight and understand that, yes, even if their situation seems cruel, they deserve their comeuppance. Classic noir is the great moral equalizer, and the filmmakers of The Square – brothers Nash (director) and Joel (co-star/co-writer) Edgerton – understand this and execute it better than most who try their hand at neo-noir. The Square is a great film with some moments that conjure up some of my favorite from neo-noir films (the spotty job of burying a body being my favorite). There's been a renaissance lately with Australian genre films, and The Square sits near the top of the very best examples of why people should be taking notice of the films coming to American from The Land of Oz.

Catching up with 2010: Capsule Review - Best Worst Movie

Best Worst Movie is great if you’re a fan of Troll 2, but otherwise it’s a bit of a boring documentary that seems to be discovering the same thing over and over: the film has a cult following, and the actors are varying degrees of embarrassed about the film. The film is really about George Hardy; he’s a dentist who does good work for his Alabama community, but when he catches wind that Troll 2 is a popular roadshow film he decides to jump on the circuit and be a part of the mania. The most interesting thing about this overlong documentary is that Hardy sees the difference between cult fans in small venues and the type of horror fans that flock to large conventions. In the most telling scene from the film he converses with fellow “one-and-done” horror actors as an entire row of tables consists of people who appeared – briefly – in one of the Nightmare films. When Hardy sees this, and the subsequent rejection of his “stardom” (he’s basically reduced to pimping his own bad movie and merchandise), he promptly turns on the people that seem to adore him the most. The most salient point Best Worst Movie makes is, I suppose, that there are two types of horror fans, and the die-hards (read: the one’s willing to spend LOTS of money) see horror in its most non-ironic form, and this just doesn’t work for what Hardy is trying to do with the Troll 2 roadshow. There’s a reason why the people involved in the Upright Citizens Brigade are willing to pay George Hardy money for an appearance at their club, and why the dudes dressed up as Freddy and Jason at the major horror convention haven’t even heard of Troll 2. The reason for this is the most interesting part of the movie. If the documentary would have been a short – a film about the phenomenon of Troll 2 and bad movies in general – then it would have been an easy recommend. But as it is, Best Worst Movie is a mild recommendation for fans only. There’s just too much wasted time in the middle of the film, and I really disliked the tone of certain scenes where it felt the filmmakers (the person who directed the documentary was the child star of Troll 2) were just trying to embarrass the director (Claudio Fragasso) by showing how inept he was in not seeing the irony in the film. Now either that was a point of the film, or I was completely fooled by Fragasso who maybe understands the irony of the film’s appeal and just plays the straight man; however, I feel what many feel is what makes Troll 2 the best worst movie: it’s genuine. Therefore, I don’t think Fragasso is being ironic at all here, and that makes the scenes focusing on him even more painful to watch because here’s an entire room of people ripping on a man’s work in front of him, and he just doesn’t get it. I never thought I would feel sympathetic towards such a hack filmmaker, but damn if I didn’t feel that Fragasso was somewhat of a tragic figure by film’s end. I don’t think that was the filmmaker’s intent, though, and that confusion in tone is why I can’t fully recommend Best Worst Movie.

Catching up with 2010: Capsule Review – Salt

Salt is a breath of fresh air; it’s a great, old-fashioned style Cold War thriller with a no-frills, goofy attitude towards the action genre. This is exactly what these types of spy thrillers should be, and even though I really liked some of the Bourne films, Salt, in all of its simplicity, is light-years ahead of Paul Greengrass’ film. The film is not just light-years ahead in craft (I like that the film employs a mix of old-school and new-school editors – Stuart Baird and John Gillroy respectively – to show how smooth and exciting editing action scenes can be by really showing a sense of space and coherency and still being kinetic without having to make the viewer nauseous with in-the-moment shaky-cam), but in how Jolie is the perfect lead for this type of role (the same way Damon was for the first Bourne film), and the supporting cast – especially Liev Schreiber and Chiwetel Ejiofor – as we suspend our disbelief for a film like this we actually find ourselves, thanks to Jolie, not having to suspend it too far. Even though Evelyn Salt bounces on tops of semi trucks and jumps off of bridges and onto cars, Jolie is the type of actress who makes the silly situations in a film like this seems utterly enjoyable in spite of its goofiness. Director Phillip Noyce is adept at making these kinds of films as he made the best of the Jack Ryan thrillers in Patriot Games and Clear and Present Danger. Its head-to-the-ground momentum and constant action reminded me of an era when films like this didn’t take themselves too seriously and stop for needless exposition to try and make sense of it all. Salt seems to be making it up as it goes, and you know what that’s not a bad thing here. The only time you realize how silly Salt is is if you take the time to contemplate on it days later. All I know is this: it’s about as expertly crafted an action film that I’ve seen in years. I gave myself over to this silly spy thriller and enjoyed it immensely, and that my in-the-moment reaction to Salt is that it’s one of my favorite movies of 2010.

Catching up with 2010: Capsule Review - Easy A

Much like Orange County and The House Bunny, Easy A is a film that is nothing new to the genre of high school/college films about people who look good and attend nice looking schools in affluent communities. Whew, that's a mouthful for merely trying to explain a specific type of film, but we all probably know what type of film Easy A is before we even watch it. And yet, that is what makes the film so damn enjoyable: it is so much better than it has any right to be. The sole purpose is the charming-as-hell personality of the film's lead: Emma Stone. This is a career-making role, and as Olive (Stone) wades through her self-inflicted problems (she takes money to allow outcasts to spread rumors that she is sleeping with them while donning a scarlet "A" a la Hester Prynne) we are privy to a portrait of a smart and beautiful and self-assured female protagonist that is rarely seen in the usual sex-crazed, cynical films about teenagers. This should come as no surprise to those who saw Stone in Superbad and Zombieland, and in Easy A Stone owns every scene. Her performance elevates the film and reminded me of the way that Colin Hanks and Jack Black made Orange County more than just your average high school film in the wake of American Pie; it also reminded me of the way Anna Ferris turned a film like The House Bunny (also starring Stone) from something I normally would abhor to something that was not just tolerable but really damn likable. Easy A is aided by a tremendous supporting cast in Thomas Haden Church, Malcolm McDowell, Patricia Clarkson, Stanley Tucci, and Lisa Kudrow. Easy A isn't about to resurrect a dead subgenre, and director Will Gluck's (Fired Up!) direction is too inconsistent to keep the film from feeling a soggy at the end (even though it's a brisk 90 minutes); however, Stone's performance is really one of the best I've seen this year from a female lead, and Easy A is her coming out party. Here is a star-making performance in a film that is a breezy, harmless 90 minutes and good for some genuine laughs thanks to its outstanding cast.

Catching up with 2010: Capsule Review – The Killer Inside Me

Not since John McNaughton's Henry: Portrait of a Serial Killer has a film attempted so closely to follow and track the depravity of a killer, but Michael Winterbottom's latest experiment (based on a popular piece of pulp fiction) tries its hardest to do just that, but is sadly derailed by superfluous story threads and unnecessary supporting characters that seem to just drift in and out of the story with no rhyme or reason. The major difference between the two films, and one of the reasons the former works so well, is that McNaughton's film isn't stylized in the way that Winterbottom's film The Killer Inside Me is. McNaughton's film also wasn't interested in cluttering the story with those aforementioned unnecessary elements. Here was have a film that seems like it's going into an uncomfortable territory – into a place where there is nowhere to hide and we must confront the brutality of the killer we're watching (and being led through the story by); however, this is not the case with The Killer Inside Me which sadly devolves into normalcy when the film really calls for all-out, unflinching nihilism.

I'm not saying that's a requirement for a film of this nature to be good, but if Winterbottom and his crew (and the crew does great work as the production design and cinematography are top notch) were content on giving us scenes like they do where a character is brutally punched to death (with sound-mixing that churned my stomach) then they can't back down the rest of the way by making the film a banal procedural with unnecessary periphery characters and a horribly misused soundtrack. Sadly, that's what The Killer Inside Me amounts to. I really wanted to love this movie. I was ready to go there if the film would have been willing to go to the places, the depths, it promised it was going in its opening 30 minutes. Alas, it's somewhat of a miss for Winterbottom, one of the most prolific (and one of my favorite) filmmakers working today. The Killer Inside Me is a beautiful looking film with the appropriate pulp/noir aesthetic, but a tone that is all over the place (especially in the way the film juxtaposes the brutality of its moments with a 50's soundtrack that is just all wrong all the time). There's enough here in the performance of Affleck and the style of the film to make it more than a worthwhile curiosity, but considering the talent and the subject matter it's a surprisingly disappointing and banal one.

Catching up with 2010: Capsule Review – Date Night

Here's the type of comedy that just doesn't work in 2010. The actors, bless their hearts, try their hardest to make this pseudo-screwball comedy work, but the writing and the directing (specifically the asinine idea to add 20 minutes to the film for home release) completely derail the film. In other words: it's hard to make a screwball comedy in 2010 because directors and studios think screwball today equates to guns, car chases, and poorly directed action scenes involving normal, everyday people. Steve Carell and Tina Fey are Phil and Clair Foster, a married couple looking to have an exciting date night in New York City after hearing about how their friends' (great supporting performances from Mark Ruffalo and Kristen Wiig) marriage has died due to lack of excitement. What happens, of course, is a misunderstanding in the city that puts the Foster's smack in the middle of a situation involving crooked cops, a corrupt D.A., and a coveted flash drive that links the cops with the D.A. with a mob boss (Ray Liotta).

It's all a convoluted mess that results in more groan inducing moments than laughs. Part of the problem is that director Shawn Levy (Night at the Museum films) has no idea how to direct a comedy (or an action picture for that matter). The actors do their best to show the appropriate emotion as all of the screwy madness swirls around their normalcy, and half the fun of the movie is just looking at the Fosters as they experience these crazy situations. However, the banter between Carell and Fey is mediocre at best (Fey really isn't a movie star, her performance was all wrong for a film), and they are upstaged by the supporting cast that includes the aforementioned Ruffalo, Wiig, and Liotta; as well as James Franco (in a role that steals the film, and actually makes it worth watching), Mila Kunis, and Mark Wahlberg (another great comedic performance). When it's all said and done the film is too long at 108 minutes (the theatrical version was 88 minutes…so you're telling me they felt the need to add 20 minutes to the DVD!) as there are countless scenes that kill the momentum of the film, and I imagine had I seen this in the theater the pacing would have been quicker (adding to the screwball element) and more tolerable; instead, the pacing is atrocious, specifically a scene near the end where the Foster's must pose as strippers. It just killed the film right there for me. If you run across the film on TV late at night it's worth checking out for the scenes with Wahlberg, Franco, and Kunis. Everything else in Date Night is a big time failure.

Summer of Slash: Capsule Reviews, Part 4

Back with some capsule reviews.  These have been in the can for a while, but a mixture of grad school, work, and the hard drive for my desktop computer blowing up it's been a bugger of a time getting some new horror posts up.  I have a review for Maniac ready to go, too, but I'm still waiting for my computer to get fixed so I can get some screencaps up (my Netbook doesn't have a disc drive). In these capsule reviews you'll find brief thoughts on the Ozploitation version of Rear Window, a zombie movie penned by the man who came up with the idea for Alien, One of the best worst movies I've ever seen (one that would make Umberto Lenzi proud), and possibly one of the worst horror sequels I've ever seen.  Reviews after the jump...

Road Games:


"Who digs a hole in the middle of nowhere?


This line kickstarts what is a great little Australian thriller – about a truck driver named Quin (Stacy Keach) obsessed with a van that he thinks is responsible for the slew of dead female hitchhikers – that is more Rear Window than The Hitcher. So, it only gets a paragraph because it's not really a horror movie, even though the queen herself, Jamie Lee Curtis, shows up half-way into the film. There are some great moments of tension in the film (constructed out of very minimalist effects, after all, the film almost entirely takes place in the cab of a semi truck), but there's nothing here that makes the film a slasher. Thanks to the wonderful documentary about the Ozploitation movement in Not Quite Hollywood, I was able to hear about this film directed by Richard Franklin (Psycho II and the Australian cult hit Patrick), and about how it kind of pissed off the Australian filmmaking community because it used well-known American actors. However, Keach and Curtis are outstanding here essentially playing James Stewart and Grace Kelly, and there are some wonderful taut scenes throughout. However, the pacing is quite deliberate, so be warned: not a lot happens in this film. The ending is kind of a chore, but the set pieces are nice, and the Franklin is able to elicit some good tension out of Keach being confined to the cab of a semi truck (much in the same way Stewart was confined to his wheelchair in Rear Window) for almost the entirety of the film. It's all a slow burn, and at time the deliberate pacing is a chore to get through; however, the good outweighs the bad by a mile as the film is a lot of fun (thanks to the performances) with its classic storyline that pays homage to Rear Window in a respectful way.

 

Slugs:


Well, here's one of those movies that is so-bad-it's-good. It's like the best of Umberto Lenzi (Nightmare City) and Lucio Fulci, mixed with the cheese of Bert I. Gordon films. So, in other words: it's gloirious. Since these types of movies are never as fun to read about as they are to watch I'll keep this brief:

• The acting is so wonderfully awful, and it just reeks of the 80's. It just may be some of the most wooden acting I've ever seen in a horror movie with a semi-budget.
  
• Of course the only scientist in town is British, and he looks like a cross between Dario Argento and Jeff Van Gundy.
  
• The character Phillips, who I think is the town's water deputy or something like that, I couldn't figure it out, is the poor mans Leslie Nielson. He utters brilliant lines like: "You aint got the authority to declare Happy Birthday, not in this town…now get your ass out of here!" Brilliant.
  
• You know you're in trouble when the director's idea of tension is cutting back and forth between each actor's lines and any kind of reaction from periphery characters. This film has TONS of reaction shots, and they're all gloriously awful.
  
• There's a lot of cheap blood and guts in this film as the slugs simply sit on top of a victim, make loud snail-like noises, like the silly snails and spiders of Fulci's horror movies, as we see traces of guts through the horde of slugs.
  
• One of the film's best moments comes when a man in a restaurant starts choking, falls off his chair, and then has his eye explode as a stream of slugs comes flying out of the empty eye socket. It reminded yet again of something right out of a Fulci film.
  
• Like any good D-grade horror movie the film consists of a lot exposition to not only explain the confusing story, but also to pad the film to an excruciating extent.
  
• 
  
  I know I'm preaching to the choir when I speak to how entertaining this kind of bad movie is, so, if you're one of those people and you haven't seen Slugs yet, what are you waiting for!
  
  

The Texas Chainsaw Massacre 2:


I have no interest in spending more than a few sentences on this movie. Perhaps I just don't get it, but I didn't find this movie the least horrifying, funny, or clever; and if it wasn't for a hilariously over-the-top (and all too sparsely featured) performance by Dennis Hopper, this would have gone down as one of the worst and most unnecessary sequels ever made. It's an interesting premise as Hooper tries to take the nihilism from the first film and re-channel it to be some kind of jokey, tongue-in-cheek horror movie that features way too much of the cannibal chainsaw family we only briefly saw in the first film. The sequel is at times excruciatingly repetitive and way too long. Despite its great set piece at the end, and the aforementioned great performance by Dennis Hopper, The Texas Chainsaw Massacre 2 is just too much of chore to get through with attempts at industry-specific humor that ends up just falling flat on its face. A missed opportunity that shows Hooper really was merely a one hit wonder. (Note: I admit that I am probably one of the few horror buffs that doesn't slurp up and gush all over the original TCM, so take that for what it's worth. Yeah, I may be a bit harsh on Hooper, but I've just never been impressed with the man's abilities as a filmmaker.)


 

Dead and Buried:


Gary Sherman's (Death Line aka Raw Meat) Dead and Buried is an interesting take on the zombie film. Sometimes great and atmospheric, and sometimes a bit slow and plodding it's ultimately more of a curiosity for hardcore horror/exploitation fans. From a Dan O'Bannon (Alien) screenplay, Dead and Buried begins benignly enough as a passer-through taking snapshots of the beach. When he happens upon a beautiful stranger he begins taking pictures of her. This seemingly serene beginning has your typical soft focused, early 80's aesthetic; however, it turns ugly quickly as just as the poor bastard's about to get some on the beach a horde of creepies come sidling up to him and proceed to set the man on fire. It's quite a jolt, a legitimate shock after the almost comatose tone of the preceding five minutes. The scene of the photag on fire is nicely juxtaposed with the peaceful environmental surroundings. He survives the attack, but by design, as we come to find out that the small town of Potter's Bluff is attacking and murdering people to create a race of zombies.


Now these aren't your typical zombies that plod along and groan and moan for "more braaaaaains"; no, these zombies are simply reanimated corpses…in the voodoo sense. The film is an interesting mishmash of exploitation film and a more cerebral horror film, and it never really takes off despite the film's eerie tone and atmosphere. I like that Sherman tells us immediately who the killers are, and that the mystery is more interested in whether the sheriff of the New England town, Dan Gillis (James Farentino), can catch on that there's something really weird happening under his nose. It's not just the murders, but there's something else going on: Gillis' wife keeps disappearing at odd times of the night and people we've seen murdered keep popping up around town. Dead and Buried is at its best when focuses in on these moments; however, they are few and far between as the deliberate pacing really hurts the film.

There a few standout scenes, though: viewers will recognize one scene where the attractive woman on the beach at the beginning of the film dresses up as a nurse and pays a visit with macabre intentions to the burn victim from the beginning of the film. Quentin Tarantino would late homage this scene with Daryl Hannah in Kill Bill. The other scene is near the end when sheriff Gillis watches an old reel-to-reel of his wife and him making love, and an evil secret is revealed. It's quite an eerie scene as the town's coroner (Jack Albertson) watches with delight as his master plan is revealed. Dead and Buried isn't the greatest horror film of 1981, and it certainly doesn't live up to the talent that worked on the film, but it is a decent enough horror film with some creepy moments as the fog drenched town of Potter's Bluff makes for a good creepy atmosphere. Just be warned, the film is pretty deliberate in its pacing inducing more than a few yawns. (Note: This movie was inexplicably added to the infamous 'Video Nasties' list in 1984. I have no idea why. There's nothing remotely 'nasty' about this movie.  Just further proof that people were overreacting to horror films in the 80's.)

Summer of Slash: Capsule Reviews, Part 3

Here are some more capsule reviews as I am continuing to blitz through a giant to-do list in preparation for the Wonders in the Dark horror countdown. This week I didn't focus on the slasher as I visited and re-visited four "different" horror movies (specifically I re-visited three films and finally got around to watching one that's been on my list since its highly anticipated release, but more on that later). I decided to re-visit one of the worst versions of Frankenstein in a moment of stupidity, but hey it was on Starz in HD so I thought I would give it another chance. I also decided to re-watch Dario Argento's Inferno, a film that is definitely better than its negative reputation. It's odd: at one point I remember liking Inferno more than Suspiria, but upon further review I can safely say that isn't the case. I also decided to re-visit the fun and harmless From Dusk till Dawn, a clear sign that Robert Rodriguez and Quentin Tarantino were thinking about Grindhouse long before its release. Finally, I worked up the nerve to finish the Three Mothers trilogy by watching Mother of Tears. Reviews come after the jump…

From Dusk till Dawn – Before Robert Rodriguez and Quentin Tarantino had a whole slew of fun with their double-bill homage to the exploitation film, Grindhouse, they made this entertaining-as-hell vampire movie that is actually funnier and more exciting than the first installment of Grindhouse, Planet Terror. The first half of the film – written by Tarantino – is the least interesting as we are introduced to Richie (Tarantino) and Seth (a fresh-from-the-ER George Clooney) fresh from prison and having just robbed a bank. They kidnap the family of a former priest (Harvey Keitel) and take their RV down to Mexico for sweet, sweet freedom. The best thing about this first, non-vampire part of the film is the opening interaction between a sheriff (wonderfully played by grindhouse stalwart Michael Parks) and a liquor store clerk (played by the always likable John Hawkes). After this opening (where we're initially shocked that yes, this is George Clooney all foul-mouthed and tattooed, in front of us) the film slows down into some decent – but ultimately uninspired – Tarantino dialogue as the brothers and the preacher's family make their way across the border. Once the group makes their way to a sleazy strip club called The Titty Twister, the film turns into one of those drive-in exploitation classics where the dialogue is hilariously (and appropriately) self-reflexive. A lot of scenes about vampires get explained away in a cheesy way by such exploitation icons as Fred Williamson and Tom Savini (not to mention a cameo from the John Saxon at the beginning of the film), and these moments are performed with such gusto – and most importantly without a smirk on their face – that make the last half of the film not just a pretty decent horror film (the violence and the vampire effects are pretty good at evoking the appropriate horror tone), but a loving homage to the types of films that Rodriguez and Tarantino no doubt spent the better days of their youth watching and re-watching. As a straight horror movie of the vampire variety I don't think the film as fun as say John Carpenter's Vampires (which had a tremendous performance from James Woods at its center), but it's still great to see Clooney in this pre-Hollywood icon role where he's clearly having a hell of a time hamming it up and spouting as many "f bombs" as possible so the audience knows for sure that he's serious about this not acting on TV thing. From Dusk till Dawn is an interesting precursor to Grindhouse and succeeds in pretty much the same way that esoteric film did: if you find cheesy, bloody, exploitation films entertaining then this film is definitely for you. It probably seems like nothing more than silly fun for others. It's always been one of my favorite horror movies.

Mary Shelly's Frankenstein – Wow. Does this movie stink. Clearly trying to cash in on the success of 1992's Bram Stoker's Dracula (a horribly overrated Coppola effort), Kenneth Branagh – Shakespeare producer extraordinaire – decided to try his hand at Mary Shelly's classic Gothic Horror novel about science and the downfall of man's obsession with knowledge. Yes. Kenneth Branagh tried his hand at horror, and failed miserably. Of course he had little chance of making the film any good, because even James Whale's classics couldn't possibly visualize what Shelly does in her brilliant novel, and Branagh takes the most interesting parts of the novel (you know, the cerebral elements), filters them through his hammy eye, and creates a film that not only fails as a horror film, but as a period piece as well. Branagh seems to be in over his head as every "big" scene of the film is clumsily blocked and framed, and strains too much for Effect (case in point: the moment where Dr. Frankenstein's wife has her heart ripped out by the Monster). Robert De Niro's great performance as the Monster is completely wasted because of Branagh's inability to make a coherent film. His direction is so clumsy; in fact, we're even treated to one of those awful period piece candle-lit sex scenes where the camera swirls around the bed while classical music plays over the "passionate" love making of the two main characters. There's nothing remotely scary, creepy, atmospheric, or gothic about this movie. It turns completely laughable by the end as Frankenstein tries to stitch up his dead wife and proceeds to dance with her. The movie was a huge failure in the States, struggling to make half of its 45 million dollar budget; however, it made nearly 90 million globally. I don't care how much money a movie makes because that is irrelevant when discussing whether a movie is good or not, but I don't want to say only bad things about this movie…so there ya go.

Inferno – More ethereal and baroque than Dario Argento's first entry in his Three Mother's trilogy (and surprise hit) Suspiria, this sequel actually feels more like one of the entries of Lucio Fulci's early 80's output (City of the Living Dead, The Beyond, and House by the Cemetery) as we have harshly lit and colored sets, bizarre camera angles, extreme close-ups and jump cuts, and nonsensical storytelling at its finest…all taking place in what appears to be an otherworldly apartment complex in Rome. In fact, Inferno indeed feels more like City of the Living Dead as characters enter and depart without any explanation while weird shit occurs over and over again (yes, this is the one with rats) to the random people who inhabit the plot. The story is really inconsequential here as Argento really strains to connect this plot with the story of Suspiria. However, it's really irrelevant because this was the beginning of the nonsensical, supernatural Italian horror film that Fulci made famous with his own unofficial Gates of Hell trilogy. There are some impressive sequences throughout Inferno, though, and they make the film an enjoyable horror ride filled with countless haunted house moments (none more so then the impressive ballroom scene at the end). Perhaps the film's most famous moment comes at the beginning where a young woman exploring the depths of her apartment complex finds the aforementioned ballroom immersed in water with some bizarre inscriptions on the walls that match those of a book she's been reading about the three mothers. The scene is a tautly drawn 15+ minutes as we are privy to all kinds of bizarre lighting and set constructions that tip us off immediately that this film is going to be different than Suspiria (for as ethereal as that film was it had a more concrete story for its more nightmarish-aesthetic to swirl around). It's no surprise to any fan of Italian horror that the master himself, Mario Bava, was in charge of directing a lot of the film's most famous – and best looking – moments (Mario's son, Lamberto, was AD on the film). In total Inferno is not as bad as its reputation, and it certainly fits the early 80's Italian horror aesthetic to a tee; however, Argento followed Inferno up with three more interesting film, two gialli that were considerably more interesting in their violence than Inferno (most of the film's gore scenes fade to black before we see anything, and Keith Emerson's annoying rock-opera score gives the death scenes the wrong feel) and another supernatural film, Phenomena, that was far more interesting story-wise. Inferno is an interesting pre-cursor to what Fulci did so well with his classic trilogy of the early 80's. It's filled with some beautifully constructed non-sequiturs and evokes a great mood that makes one nostalgic for 1980's Italian horror; however, it really fails to enrapture the viewer and elicit any real terror.

Mother of Tears – The less said about the third (and final) entry in Dario Argento's Three Mother's trilogy the better as Mother of Tears is a prime example of what's wrong with modern, digital horror. First, one of the major issues I've had with modern Argento is his reliance on DV cameras. Sure it's probably cheaper and easier for the maestro to move around and shoot the scenes he wants, but I've seen other films shot on digital that don't look as cheap as some of his films do. They look no better than the countless straight-to-DVD gore fests that any number of hack filmmaker can make. Second, digital violence is annoying as hell. I'm not such a purist – or even a gorehound – where I need to see "realistic" violence, but one of the things that made the Italian subgenre of horror so great was its shocking violence and gore effects that were often given just as much thought and care as the blocking or lighting of a scene. The famous (and really well done) gore effects of early Argento and Lucio Fulci are usually the reasons people so fervently sought out a copy of a copy of a copy of a copy of a VHS back in the 90's. Now, anyone can do violence with the push of a button and usually they do it in such excess that it becomes boring because it's so stale. It's not even that the violence isn't "realistic"; it's the fact that it's not as tangible…so, for instance, when a woman gets a giant spear shoved through her babymaker (as is the case with Mother of Tears) it just looks stupid and sadistic. Oh, Argento tries to tidy-up the trilogy here, but he's slowly moving into hack mode as Mother of Tears plays more like those bad German ultra-violent horror rip-offs (they call them "homages") that go straight to DVD these days with its gratuitous nudity, lesbian cannibalism, pornographic violence (which makes pisses me off because it lumps Argento in with idiots like Eli Roth), and countless scenes of sadism and unnecessary brutality. Mother of Tears doesn't just put one in a bad mood because of how ugly its violence is, but also because –maybe more so than any other Argento picture – its aesthetic is so incredibly boring. The digital doesn't help (he's not using it the same way Michael Mann uses it to pick up bright colors), but I think it's a deeper issue than that: I just don't think Argento cares anymore. The last time the man has truly been interesting was with his 1986 giallo, Opera (even that film was hampered by an AWFUL heavy metal soundtrack).

I don't know if Mother of Tears marks the end for Argento (he even cribs better moments from his own films like a scene near the end where Asia Argento struggles to get out of a pit of bone and mud and body parts a la Jennifer Connelly's character in Phenomena), but it's certainly disheartening to see such an auteur result to the hack tendencies found in countless torture porn these days (the amount of blood is amazing in this film and made me think of all those shitty looking horror movies from France like High Tension), and continue to have such a horribly uninteresting output the last 20+ years. I realize I haven't uttered a single word about what the film was about, how it wraps-up the series, and what some of the standout scenes were…well that's because I was just too damn depressed to consider doing a full review of the film. It saddened me to see one of my favorite director's make such an awful movie, and really I don't know if I could tell you what was going on with the story (except that a group of cannibal witches try to resurrect the last remaining "mother") because the film was all over the place, which isn't abnormal with Italian horror, and I'm more than willing to give the story a pass if the aesthetic is arresting enough (like Inferno for example). But everything – and I mean every damn thing – about this film is so depressing and forgettable. It's sad that I'm looking forward to Argento's Giallo starring Adrian Brody solely because Argento has stated his displeasure with the producers cut of the film, essentially disowning the film because it isn't what he envisioned. Based on his recent output that's the most positive review the film (yet to be released in the states as it has been delayed almost a year now, much like Mother of Tears was) could possibly receive.

2009 Capsule Reviews, Part 3: The Limits of Control, The Hurt Locker, The Fantastic Mr. Fox, and A Serious Man

Well, I've tried to watch as many 2009 films as possible in the past two weeks, but a co-worker got sick and I had to sub all week -- so I was teaching from 8am - 7:30pm -- thus squelching all of my movie-watching possibilities during the day (I normally teach from 3 - 7:30).  There are more than a few movies I had planned to watch that I just didn't get the opportunity to, but I'll list those in a later post.  I'm hoping to get my year-end review/2nd Anniversary post up sometime tomorrow or Tuesday, so for now enjoy these hastily written capsules...my last reviews for the films of 2009.

The Limits of Control
 

The Limits of Control is part Ghost Dog and part Coffee and Cigarettes, meshing those two previous Jarmusch experiments and creating the movie, it seems, he was building towards this whole time. The film is like a great ambient rock album (or as the kids call it these days "Dream Pop")…you just kind of drop the needle and go with the flow of the music. The film meanders from scene to scene, but what an intoxicating meandering it is! Jarmusch always makes films that leave one in a weird state of reverie – whether one likes that or not is what makes the auteur so polarizing – and The Limits of Control is no different as it makes no qualms about taking its sweet time with what it's doing. Either you're into this movie or you're not…again, keeping with album metaphor, either you like it or you don't; and sometimes these things grow on you (I recommend seeing this movie more than once) the more you let the music (or in this case the imagery and peculiar dialogue) marinate. I've read other places that film is in the vein of the great French New Wave filmmaker Jacque Rivette. Here's the deal: I know enough about Rivette's work to notice what Jarmusch is doing here, and yet I'm not familiar enough with Rivette's work to really know what Jarmusch is doing here…nevertheless, that shouldn't stop you (it didn't stop me) from seeing what is a brilliant genre exercise from one of the true auteurs working today.

The Hurt Locker

There's nothing much I can add to the million other glowing accolades this film has received. I've always liked Kathryn Bigelow, and I've always thought that she's one of the more underrated action directors (if you haven't seen the brilliant Strange Days yet I highly recommend you rectify that problem). I just have to ape what everyone else is saying about this movie: tense action scenes that are brilliantly staged, a wonderful performance by Jeremy Renner, and a great storyline that shows how these guys love war because of the tension and excitement it brings to their lives; all of these elements mesh perfectly to create a refreshingly apolitical war film that snuck up on a lot of people upon its initial release. Thankfully more people are starting to see the movie thanks to the award machine, and I can only hope that Bigelow – a James Cameron apprentice – can beat her mentor come award time for the best action film of the year. The Hurt Locker is what an action film should be, and even though I enjoyed elements of Avatar, it's a tad upsetting that it's the action movie everyone is talking about right now. Bigelow knows how to do action right (if you haven't done so I highly recommend looking at Point Break with new eyes…it's one of the best action films of the 90's), and The Hurt Locker is a perfect example of her skills. It's definitely her masterpiece.

The Fantastic Mr. Fox


Mention the great montage (which is typical of Anderson) when the Badger attorney (Bill Murray) gives his inventory on the seedy tactics (no pun intended) of the farmers named Boggis, Bunce, and Bean (who own farms that Fox plans on stealing from)…it reminded me of the standout scene in The
Life Aquatic where the viewer is given the superlative tour of the Belafonte. The voice acting by the entire cast (Clooney and Streep being the only non-Anderson regulars) is top-notch, and Anderson and his editor Andrew Wesiblum construct a franticly paced story (the first part of the story feels like it flies by as we see Fox's three-pronged plan go through its preliminary stages and then we get to see it put into effect…these moments – along with a montage set to people singing along with a banjo around a campfire and a fight between Fox and Rat in a High Voltage area – are the highlight of the film) that is infectious in its whimsy and energy. Essentially what we have here is an animated, 87 minute, Wes Anderson film; however, I enjoyed this film (I think it's time for people, and I've been as guilty as anyone, to stop being apprehensive about films just because they're animated) far more than Anderson's other whimsical affair, The Life Aquatic. Well…just what the cuss am I trying to say? This is one of the best film experiences of the year, and I was really surprised (even though I love Anderson's work) that I was so into every frame of this film.

A Serious Man

The Coen's darkly comic, Job-like tale is obviously one of the most personal films the brothers have made. Taking place in suburban Minneapolis (where the brothers grew up) the film centers around Larry Gopnik (Michael Stuhlbarg who fits in nicely with the Coen universe) whose life is just one bad piece of news after another. The film is essentially about the absurdity of life, and the even more absurd practice of trying to make sense of that absurdity. This polarization – absurdity vs. certainty – is dealt with in the typically bleak and darkly comic Coen manner. His job, a professor of math who fills his board up with all kinds of proofs, is the perfect metaphor for what the brothers Coen are getting at here. Job-like metaphors and Yiddish symbolism (the film opens with a six minute short film that introduced me to the term dybbuk) flood the everyday occurrences of Larry. The whole idea of things "not making sense" is humorous enough, but the Coen's always look to take things deeper, evidenced by the discussion he has with a confused student: "The stories are just illustrative; the math is how it really works." And sure enough the Coen's hilariously juxtapose the confused Larry with a backdrop of a giant blackboard filled with a proof that is meant to explain mysteries away, or the great scene where he's talking with his attorney (Adam Arkin) and they are surrounded by weighty tomes, a perfect metaphor for the film as knowledge is always bearing down on the protagonist.

"What does all of this mean?" is another question that is broached in the film, and I like the way the Coen's let things just play out in their own weird, humorous way. For instance the scene where Larry has been asked to lunch by his wife and her lover, Sy; they inform him that they think it would be best if he moved out…of his own house. Compound that absurd moment with funny little scenes where he gets emergency calls from his son at work because "F-Troop" is 'coming in fuzzy', or where a Rabbi tells him you can't know everything…which Larry replies "it sounds like you don't know anything."

The Coen's central question – is it important to know everything – is an interesting one, and like Tarantino's Inglourious Basterds there's a lot to explicate here. But I think what tends to get lost in all that juicy and more than worthwhile dissecting is that the movie is just really damn entertaining. A Serious Man is darkly comic and typical of the Coen's who specialize in wince-inducing humor. The ending is sure to confuse and befuddle those who don't understand that never has anything made sense with the Coen's upon an initial viewing and initial reflection. You have to let their films swim around in your head for days.

A special shout-out to Carter Burwell whose score is one of the best things of the film, and like he did with the 1999 film Being John Malkovich he creates a starkly effective score that is able to elicit the appropriate emotions. Plus, this has to be the most brilliant use of Jefferson Airplanes "Somebody to Love" I've ever heard.

2009 Capsule Reviews, Part 2: The Girlfriend Experience, Where the Wild Things Are, Bad Lieutenant, In the Loop, Extract

Here are more capsule reviews for the year 2009.  I still have a handful of films to get to.  On the 25th I'll post my year-end wrap up, which will also mark my two year anniversary with the blog.  Until then here are some snapshot reviews of some pretty good movies I watched in the last couple of weeks...


The Girlfriend Experience 

"I know I should probably call a shrink, but I'd rather talk to you." This paraphrase of a line from Steven Soderbergh's latest experiment (read: another attempt at being the American Goddard) gets at the heart of what is so interesting about this snapshot of Capitalistic America during the recession. Soderbergh casts porn star Sasha Grey as Chelsea, an escort who works more in the "let-me-lend-you-my-ear" trade than the flesh trade. This isn't the kind of escort you may think, and the paraphrased quote above perfectly encapsulates what Chelsea does for a living: listen to rich men who have no personal life and must be "on" all the time, bear their souls. The film is told through the fractured narrative that Soderbergh made so enjoyable in The Limey, as we hear Chelsea reading her thoughts from what is presumably an online journal. She tries to heighten her profile online by getting involved with some not-so great individuals, and to our surprise we come to sympathize with Chelsea's dilemma as she tries to further her career and keep a relationship afloat (that's the experiment). Soderbergh does his usual auteur stuff as he not only directs but shoots and cuts the film (under his usual pseudonyms). It's a fascinating film about a fascinating profession (I saw a special on high-end escorts on CNBC one night and it was fascinating to me how many of them are paid to essentially be shrinks) where sex isn't the most valued commodity; that would be the ability to converse. The film opens with Chelsea discussing the documentary Man on Wire with a client…this discussion, and the ability to engage in an intelligent discussion about the arts, is more important than sex for these men. On the CNBC documentary I watched interviewed escorts talked about how for these powerful men, they aren't just looking for sex, that they can get anytime they want with their money, but they're looking for is something that is far more valuable. Soderbergh brilliantly broaches this topic and examines it with the eye of an auteur. It's a highly interesting snapshot of what life is like right now for a select few as Soderbergh gives us a sketch (the film is only 77 minutes) of the "have's" trying to make sense of the Capitalistic nightmare they've created, and a woman who has her finger on the pulse of such men.


Where the Wild Things Are

Maurice Sendak's sparse (in terms of words) children's book (alive with its imagery) gets the big budget treatment from auteur Spike Jonze in what has to be one of the most un-condescending children's movies ever made. I was blown away by the filmmakers ability to show us the pain a kid must feel being at an age where a broken home is a confusing thing that gives way to a varying degree of emotions. The aptly named actor Max Records plays Max, a wild child who we're introduced to as he wrestles a dog to the kitchen floor. One night he bites his mom in a frenzy of confusion, child-like audacity and unrestrained revelry. He doesn't quite understand why his mom (the always wonderful to see Catherine Keener) is so angry with him. Max runs away to a world he creates, a world where big creatures called The Wild Things live. Each "Thing" is given a distinct trait that parallels Max's, and this is what makes the film such a joy and treasure: it doesn't placate to children. Sometimes kids endure dark times…hell sometimes kids worry more about the unknown than adults, and the "Things" whether they are know-it-alls, out of control, shy, or nosy represent a specific emotion that Max has. This isn't just a film where Max runs with the "Things" and plays with them and builds forts and pretends to be their king; this is a film that tries to better understand the violent tendencies of Max (who shares the most with the wild Carol voiced by James Gandolfini), or why he thinks he's entitled to so much when his mom is struggling just as much as he is. The CGI is hardly noticeable as the "Things" look like half computer generated images and half muppetry, giving a weight to the "Things" that makes them more than just creatures. I loved this movie. I loved the way Jonze understands that not every kids movie has to be condescending, I love how Carter Burwell's score meshes so perfectly with the beautiful soundtrack by Karen O. of the Yeah Yeah Yeah's, I love how Jonze and writer Dave Eggers create a filmable story out of Sendak's six sentences that doesn't overstay its welcome, and I love that ending…boy do I love that ending. I love everything about this movie. This is one of my favorite movies of the year.


 

Bad Lieutenant: Port of Call, New Orleans

How does one explain Werner Herzog's "remake" of Abel Ferrara's indie hit Bad Lieutenant?  That film -- starring Harvey Keitel as drug-taking, sex-crazed, and out-of-control cop -- is one of the best films of the 90's. I only mention this because these are the only things these two films share in common. Herzog's vision is essentially just a manic cop story acting as a vessel for Nicolas Cage to do his thing. Love him or loathe him, Cage is always interesting and can make even the most mundane film at least watchable. This is not a mundane film, however, and the energy that both Cage and Herzog inject into this post-Katrina setting is something that is befitting of them both. The film has one of the most hilarious drug busts I've ever seen, it has a scene where Cage hallucinates that iguanas are staring at him (and only Herzog would provide us with a POV of the iguana), it has bad drug trips, it has Val Kilmer actually toning it down so that the screen won't explode with both he and Cage emoting…ths blowing up the camera in the process, and the film – above all these other crazy elements – is an interesting cop story that is resolute in how crazy it wants to be, but unafraid to slow things down just enough to have a somewhat contemplative ending. I don't know that I totally buy that ending, but it's understandable why Herzog would throw it in there. Really, though, from the onset (a great scene where Kilmer and Cage debate the merits of getting their expensive clothes dirty to save a prisoner drowning in his cell from the flooding, hurricane waters) the film makes it clear that its main interest is being off-kilter; and what better person to have as a representation of that mood than Nicolas Cage. Here Cage gives what may be his best performance (at least of the manic ilk…which is just about 90% of his performances) in a role where it's clear that he and Herzog – a crazy man himself – were born to work together. It's a performance of maniacal glee, and I was thrilled that I never quite knew where Cage was taking it. That unknowingness, the inability to predict the beats of the performance (which flows quite nicely with how unpredictable Cage's character, Terrence McDonagh, is), is the primary reason to see this movie.





In the Loop

It's Ricky Gervais' "The Office" meets Aaron Sorkin's "The West Wing" in this hilarious political satire about the days leading up to Gulf War II. What's so great about the film, based on the popular British TV series "The Thick of It", is that it never once mentions the war, Blair, or Bush; and that restraint to go for the easy jokes is what made this far and away the best comedy of the year. I was blindsided by the film as I knew nothing about it going into it (except for the numerous rave reviews it was receiving), but I'm glad I watched the film as this kind of comedy – a preferred taste no doubt – is right up my alley. Peter Capaldi steals every scene he's in as the foul-mouthed assistant to the PM. It's a fast paced, manically hilarious satire that doesn't disappoint.




Extract

Mike Judge's (Office Space) office comedy from the point of view of the boss (Jason Bateman) this time is pretty funny and endearing experience if ultimately forgettable. Judge's reliance on his typical motifs makes the film seem safe rather than biting. It's a completely forgettable film once you're done watching it, but it definitely wasn't an experience that left me disappointed. Ben Affleck steals every scene he's in as the stoner bar tender friend of Bateman. J.K. Simmons has a nice role as Bateman's co-owner who refuses to learn the workers names because they're hoping to sell their business to a larger corporation. Judge makes some interesting comic commentary on the state of factory work, immigration, and the dilemma of running a small business; however, all of this is meshed with a sort-of con story that doesn't always work. The stuff that's most interesting is between Bateman and Affleck, and Bateman and his wife Kristin Wiig; the latter situation being one of the funnier things about the film as Judge displays good timing for some sexual mishaps and adulterous goings-on. Not a bad little comedy.