Whenever someone tells you they’d like to talk about women
making horror movies, but there just aren’t any of them out there, prepare
yourself with some ammunition then kindly tell them how full of shit they are
(again, tell them in a kind, gentle and supportive way). In the past we’ve sung
the praises of Jen & Sylvia Soska (Dead Hooker in a Trunk), Maude Michaud (Bloody Breasts, Red), Lis Fies (The Commune), Barbara Stepansky (Fugue) and Devi Snively (Death in Charge) among others. Well
in celebration of my twenty month old learning to count to four, here’s another
round of talented women to add to your list:
Julie Ufema Ms. Ufema’s directorial debut Caveat is a nifty little thriller about
a five sisters reunited for their father’s funeral. The film’s strength lies in
the cast’s ability to go at one another’s jugular and its clear Ufema
encouraged her talent to hold nothing back when it came to spilling out year’s
worth of back story and hurts onto the screen. While Caveat falls more into thriller rather than horror territory, the
mean spirited, anti-sisterhood inspired exchanges between the women makes for
some uncomfortable, squirm inducing moments. Her follow up, Pointless , reunites much of the same cast, and looks to blend
hard-boiled noir with science fiction. The film is currently in
post-production. Boston area folks can check out Caveat at the Stiletto Film Fest Saturday February 25th.
Ashleigh Nicols After
serving a variety of roles on various film and television crews Ms. Nicols
stepped behind the camera for her hilarious short Summer of the Zombies. The film managed to skewer hipster culture and
tweak the expectations of your typical zom-com fare while providing a little
romance all in fewer than fifteen minutes. Nicols is one of the first people in
a long while to not take at face value that all zombies subsist on a diet of
brains and the film gets high marks for originality-something lacking in most
zombie flicks.
Karen Lam While I’ve
yet to see Ms. Lam’s feature film Stained,
the strength of her short Doll Parts warrants
inclusion on this list. While there’s been a number of good short films
centered on women turning the table on a stalker/serial killer; most play for
laughs rather than scares. Doll Parts
ratchets up the supernatural factor and Ms. Lam does terrific work handling the
special effects involved with bringing a doll woman back to unlife as it were.
It’s one that will get under your skin and stay there long after the credits
roll.
Elise Robertson
As Chris pointed out in his review; the skilled hand of Robertson gave Donner
Pass a boost above otherwise standard slasher fare. When the script called for
a second carload of victims that could have been labeled “Douche Bag Victims Nos.
four through eight” it could have been high time to click the “off” button. However, Robertson showed she understands the
genre she had not worked in prior, kicking things off with a gangbusters
flashback sequence depicting the gruesome events of the Donner Party and a
fantastic hot tub sequence where our killer comes rushing into frame from far
off in the background. Touches like this lifted the film above standard direct
to video fare and makes me wonder what she can do with an A level script.
As talented as these ladies are, they represent a small number of the many kick ass ladies working to bring horror into your local theater and home. do yourself a favor and check out their work pronto.
Over the past few years, a number of films have come across our desks that work as updates of W.W. Jacobs's classic story, The Monkey's Paw. In that tale, a family is given a talisman that will grant them three wishes. After a series of tragedies, one of the wishes is for the return of their son, recently killed in a factory accident. While few of those films capture the desolate atmosphere and futility of Jacobs's original story (published in 1902), more than a number are fairly effective treatments (Kiss the Abyss being a recent example). While the story details vary widely, the core idea remains that one should "be careful what you wish for" when it comes to that power, particularly when the return of a deceased loved one is at the top of the wish list.
Finding its own footing in that tradition is CJ Scuffins's eccentric zombie film Prodigal Son. This gorgeously shot morality play from Ireland spins its own brand by using backdoor dealings between brutal mobsters and shady pharmaceutical companies as its backdrop. Instead of a talisman, our grieving family is granted their wish through the use of an experimental medical procedure that returns the dead to life. The only problem being the unpredictable side effects of reviving the dead.
In Dublin, a mobster named Denny (Raymond Kinsella) is at his wit's end with his psychopathic young son, Joe (Ryan Andrews). Denny is increasingly frustrated with Joe's carefree and deadly use of his trusty hurling stick. When the violent teen kills the wrong junkie, he, himself, is shot by a mysterious avenger (Sean Conroy) clad in dark cloak and travelling on horseback. Joe, an obvious sociopath, makes it difficult for us to sympathize, but his parents are devastated by the news. They love the brute, and will do everything in their power to have him back and terrorizing the hood.
Much to his grief-stricken wife's chagrin, Denny calls upon Dr. Burke (Padraig Murray) to tend to his deceased son. Burke, with his connections at pharmaceutical company Prodigal, Inc., makes a deal with company rep Hare to bring the boy in for "treatment". Hare warns that the emotions of the deceased at the time of death can get "stuck", thereby causing some unpleasant results. Joe had better have died peacefully. Burke, having contributed immensely to Prodigal's research, is more concerned with saving his own neck than any ramifications from resurrecting dead kids. Regardless of any personal philosophy, Burke and Hare (hehe) are bringing Joe back to life in the name of further experimentation and the lure of big money.
After a brief, but unnerving hospital scene, Joe is back. He's clearly having trouble re-adjusting, even with simple things like drinking milk. His scope of experience has been altered in that his immediate senses are dulled, but his emotional center is sharper. As a clever twist on the standard version, he's seemed to have developed a bit of a conscience. Instead of struggling with the obvious zombie problems (flesh eating, rotting), Joe is now forced to face his own guilt. For the first time in his life, he's scared and unsure of himself. In the eyes of his parents, he's come back a bit of a wimp. A choice between redemption or revenge looms in the climax when Joe's pasty, hollow-eyed killer is caught by two of his father's thugs. Just who will be redeemed, and who will be avenged, remains to be seen.
Scuffins's short is a solid update on films like Mary Lambert's Pet Sematary adaptation or Bob Clark's Deathdream (Dead of Night). Much like those films, Scuffin's film explores just what may happen when a person "comes back"- the changes to their personality, strange habits, etc. Scuffins goes a step further by introducing a revived corpse that was a psychopath to begin with, but now wrestling with a newfound conscience. Where once Joe was fearsome, he now lives in fear. It's a brilliant way to explore the concept, and one that presents a lot of intriguing questions.
With fantastic photography by DP Piers McGrail, Prodigal Son owes just as much to crime/revenge thrillers, westerns, and noir films than any in Romero's living dead series. By the film's end, we find that Scuffins is more interested in exploring guilt and forgiveness than any sort of flesh-eating. I can't help but think that Scuffins is also commenting on the cyclical nature of the drug trade -the spectrum of legal and illicit drugs - taking its toll all over the world. Drugs that harm and drugs that heal are often one and the same. One can conjure up images of the zombie-like walking dead looking to score the next hit, prescription or otherwise, and the gangsters/big companies shooting it out on the street for ultimate supremacy.
Something’s been gnawing at me ever since the lovely Mrs.
and I strolled out of The Woman in Black two
weekends ago. I had the sneaking suspicion I had seen this film before. I’m not
referring to the British telefilm from 1989. I couldn’t shake the J-Horror
influence I mentioned in our review or how much it reminded me one specific
film.
Then it hit me. The
Woman In Black is a remake of The
Ring (which in and of itself is a remake of Japan’s Ringu. The snake keeps eating its own tail)!
Before we go on, a word regarding spoilers. Venture forward
at your own peril because many there will be. Phrases like “and then this thing happens that’s a lot
like something that happened in the other movie too, take my word on it” copied
and pasted for a handful of paragraphs would be an abhorrent waste of your time
and mine. We have standards here people. I’m not saying we set high standards,
but if our standards were an obstacle in the road, they would at least represent
a minor obstacle, perhaps even an annoyance, to get around.
Let’s start with the basic premise of both stories. In The Ring, anyone unfortunate enough to
view Samara’s art school short film dies one week later. In The Woman in Black, a sighting of Jennet
Humfrye’s ghost signals the impending death of a child. There’s a notable
difference in specter’s modus operandi in the latest film from the source
material and previous adaptations. In the other versions, her appearance acts
as an omen. The Hammer update sees the spirit taking on a more active role in
bringing about death. Instead of appearing to a random, unconnected person,
Jennet Humfrye materializes before the children. Through unspoken suggestion she
seems to compel the children to drink lye, take long walks off sort piers, hurl
themselves off tall buildings or set themselves on fire. To be fair, how those
activities are known to be near and dear to the hearts of children with or
without a ghost pulling their little puppet strings? The newest film’s more
aggressive approach to the spirit’s demeanor falls very much in line with the
vengeful, stringy haired ghosts of J-Horror. At a minimum Goldman and Watkin’s
approach sharply contrasts the more implied terror of previous adaptations,
where aural cues and subtle incidents within the home built up a steady sense
of foreboding.
Next let’s look at our leads. Naomi Watts and Daniel
Radcliffe’s characters share similar traits. The former plays a workaholic
single mom burdened with a son she has no time for until she places him in
harm’s way while researching her story. Radcliffe plays a morose widower who finds it
difficult to spend time in his son’s presence as he reminds him too much of his
lost love. Both prioritize work over parental obligations, Watt’s reporter by
choice, Radcliffe’s lawyer as a last ditch effort to keep his position and
avoid the bread lines. While Misha
Handley cannot go toe to toe with the dead eyed creepiness David Dorfman’s
Aiden, both films feature kids that enjoy doodling gloomy, soul-crushing
refrigerator art.
The climax of both films share many similarities. Both Kipps
and Watts’ beleaguered Rachel apply a rational solution to a supernatural
dilemma. Watts ends up waist deep in years old rainwater in sewerage in order
to dredge up Samara’s corpse. In a similar move, Radcliffe finds himself
submerged in the boggy Causeway in his attempt to exhume Humfrye’s deceased
son. Both characters conclude the only way to end the horror is to put the
dead’s spirits at ease, either through a proper burial or by reuniting mother
and child. Of course, in both cases the attempts reek of futility. Both leads
learn that the dead no longer adhere to the rational idea of cause and effect.
Samara’s reincarnated ghoul and Humfrye’s ghost act more like independent
forces of nature fueled by an unquenchable rage and self righteousness.
Smaller parallels tie the films together. Both films partially
take place on an island (in the case of WiB, it’s only separated from the
mainland part of the time, but it’s still essential to the story). Horses meet
watery graves in both films. Verbinski and Watkins both include a creepy reveal
concealed beneath tattered wall paper. Both films feature ancillary characters
sporting a Melvins tee shirt (this one might be a stretch).
Obviously we’re just trying to have fun here. I’m certain
that when the producers if The Woman in Black sat down to come up with ideas no
one said, “We need to rejig The Ring
for the Downton Abbey crowd”. Still,
if the most skeptical of you have to admit there’s more than enough
similarities that it can be deemed more than coincidence. As would-be Tenenbaum
Eli Cash once said “Well, everyone knows
Custer died at Little Bighorn. What this book presupposes is... maybe he
didn't.” While it would be a
stretch to call The Woman In Black an
outright remake, I argue that CBS Films and Hammer Studios looked at the
blueprint of The Ring and did their damndest to emulate it. The Ring may have been
the first PG-13 horror film that dialed down the violence/language in order to
draw in the younger crowd while crafting a smart enough story to lure in adults.
Both films prey on parental fear of being unable to protect their children from
inevitable doom. The folks behind The
Woman in Black borrowed enough elements from the former to try and
duplicate its success.
Boston writer Adam Cesare's debut novella, Tribesmen, evokes the feeling of strolling down 42nd street in its heyday of grime, peep shows, and grindhouse cinema. Darting into any number of theaters on that street in the 70's and early 80s might land you in a gore-soaked martial arts extravaganza, a rape-revenge shocker, or a mean-spirited Gialli slasher. This is the stomping ground of Cesare, a young writer whose historic sensibilities of that sleazy era betray his youth. An adaptation of his book could easily be seen sharing a marquee with the likes of Cannibal Holocaust or Cannibal Ferox. His novel is one part homage and one part satire of those notorious Italian Cannibal classics, as well as a sly nod to low budget filmmaking.
A small film crew, led by scuzzball Italian director Tito Bronze, heads to an uncharted island hoping to rip off the popular and infamous film Cannibal Fury Atrocity. Along for the cinematic quest is screenwriter Jacques, macho superstar Umberto, sexy lead Cynthia, Denny the junkie director of photography, and Daria, hair and makeup. This group reads like a genuine cast/crew call sheet of an obscure Z-grade horror film complete with requisite prejudices and addictions. Tito, the ego-maniacal director, will stop at nothing to get his latest exploitation masterpiece "in the can". He's at odds with Jacques, a young writer who can't believe his advanced degree is squandered to create trash cinema. Caught in the middle of their creative bickering is Cynthia, a young actor from Queens whose brains, toughness, and beauty takes second billing to the narcissistic star Umberto. These players will find out what it means to die for art (or a quick buck), while others will kill for it.
In order to present the utmost authenticity, Tito brings them to the exotic location hoping to exploit the native people. The stumbling block is that the village has been abandoned, the island cursed by tragedy. Forced to improvise without local "savages" to populate the film, Tito "casts" his supporting players in key roles. Jacques, Denny, and Daria have all been upgraded to acting in Tito's brutal vision, a film unparalleled in shocking carnage. The group is soon under the influence of a spiritual presence that wishes to help them finish their transcendent gorefest, one that splashes real blood and brains on the camera's lens. With Tito's irresistible charisma, and the possessive charms of the island's spirits, the most epic snuff flick is about to be filmed.
Cesare's writing style is sparse, so it's quick and easy to devour. It's told from multiple viewpoints, each chapter devoted to a member of the cast and crew. The reader is able to spend time in the shoes of each character, regardless of whether or not it's a comfortable place to wander. Cesare doesn't care if you relate to all the characters. Experiencing the motivations of each serves to highten the suspense. Cesare develops his characters well, and even though most of them are caricatures, you can imagine them strolling the opposite way past you on that same stretch of 42nd Street. People like this really exist.
Nothing about the story feels forced, and the ensuing chase and capture scenes are gripping. It's something I don't believe a lot of writers could pull off when trying to channel this very specific feel. You either get it, or you don't, and Cesare definitely understands what tropes and nuances are necessary to reel the reader into his ugly world. The story is wholly original, yet a nice throwback to an all but forgotten era of outrageous movie poster proclamations, banned video nasties, and outraged film critics. It's also a good commentary on the dangers of low or no budget film productions where trusting the wrong people can land one in the cooking fire.
As Cesare develops, it'll be great to see what else he has up his sleeve. Tribesmen is a great start in that it establishes him as an author who is interested in the craft of writing, but stripped of pretension. His work is brutal, funny, disgusting, politically incorrect, and most all, as entertaining as a cannibal family Sunday dinner. I suggest you throw on your favorite 70's horror film score while reading to shake things up, and have your vomit bag handy just in case. Keep repeating: It's only a book. It's only a book. It's only a book...
I'm curious as to what people think of this film. Is there any excitement at seeing our greatest president wail away at the undead with his axe, or does the mash up of horror, history and classical literature Seth Graham-Smith brings the table fill you with the kind of irritation reserved for rolling around naked in poison oak?
I made it two thirds of the way through the novel before submitting to tedium. I'm not sure if I'll pick it up beofe the film comes out. On the other hand, there's no denying it's a fun concept for a summer popcorn film, and I love Timbur Bekmambetov's Russian horror tinged action flicks Night Watch and Day Watch. If anyone can bring out the best in the material, it;s him, as he knows how to shoot hyper kinetic action. Plus, we've seen enough Nazi zombies get laid to waste on screen. Confederate vampires are a nice change of pace.
I guess I'm still on the fence after watching the trailer, but I'm edging closer to the "will see it" side after this trailer.
You pop in this flick, and the first minute a heavily
bearded, scraggly-haired fella shouts towards you with a gun in his hand. Bang,
bang! And you think to yourself, damn, this is going to be intense. And then,
the rest of the film plays. You get about a half hour of trouble in paradise, a
marriage on the rocks, and a young boy caught in the cross fire. And then, the
hubby and his wife go to the newly purchased abandoned warehouse he’s bought.
They fight, until a mysterious, greasy-haired sketcher appears to chase them.
Yes, it’s our scraggly friend from the first few minutes, back to shed some
light on his purpose in the film perhaps?
Last Breath began with a lot of potential, which is why it’s
such a shame it wasn’t better. An incredibly frenetic performance by Aaron Laue
as Dark Figure in its opening minutes sets a pace and ferocity which the rest
of the film can’t seem to match. We presented a mixed romantic drama and torture
film (some would call it torture porn, but that’s snuff films then, isn’t it?)
that oversteps its bounds attempting genre comingling, and manages to merely
muddle both.
One major problem has to do with its twist ending. I won’t
tell you the twist and take no pride in ruining film endings, but suffice it to
say it’s quite silly. It requires a huge leap of faith on the part of the
viewer, and while it explains some of the earlier scenes, what is meant to add
gravitas to the flick merely makes it seem that much more absurd.
While the performances are adequate in regards to the
torture horror aspect from Ty Jones as Michael Johnson, and Mandy Bannon as
Tina Johnson, the romance is harder to buy. A lot of the film revolves around
the power of Michael and Tina’s love for each other. Except we never really
believe said powerful, overwhelming love. Part of this blame surely falls on
the script. If we were privy to a few scenes of the couple while they were deeply
in love, instead of simply seeing the tail end of their relationship, perhaps
the passion would be more evident. I’m just not buying that either of these
people would work very hard to save the other if they were set on fire, and
merely had to pee their partner out. Not that that’s a scene in the film,
though it would have made for exciting viewing.
The score gets positively Full Moon pictures at times.
Vincent Gillioz, sorry, but your score is all over the place. It’s a fun score,
quite bouncy at times, but it doesn’t quite seem to fit with scenes of a
machine that electrocutes boners. But then, what would?
There is interesting framing in many of the shots. A lot of
cool shots of our couple, framed between broken windows. However, any time a
rat hopped on screen, it was all but assured an unconvincing scene of rat
attack was to commence. It’s tough to fear rats, even a bunch of rats, when
they are obviously nowhere near your actor. One shot, rats on ground, next
shot, they are magically on her back! Oh no, those rats, which don’t seem to
care about that woman in the slightest, are terrorizing her! I guess…
Last Breath is far from a terrible film. It has its tense
moments, its creative torture scenarios, and despite how silly it is, the twist
ending is hard to guess, and something new for a horror film. Much like a noose
too long, the problem comes down to the execution. Despite all of the good
things it brings, in the end I wondered, why should I care about these two
people? They all but ignore their child (seriously, one big plot hole, who was
watching their kid while they were in the warehouse for all those hours?) and
they don’t seem to enjoy each other’s company any more.
How many more torture scenarios because of a perceived wrongdoing
do I have to sit through in a horror film? Can people just kill each other just
to do it again? Not that many films ever allow this type of blissful lack of
reasoning. How many thousands of people are murdered in horror films because of
silly perceived slights? You let me drown because you were necking, I’m dying
of cancer, and you don’t appreciate your life, and now, you were cheating, so
now I electrocute your willie.
Honestly, most of what I took from this film is that it
wouldn’t be fun to have your penis electrocuted.
I don’t think I needed a visual reiteration of that.
(Sean lives a quiet life, with a world of darkness locked away inside his fevered mind. He grew up in Central Massachusetts. In his free time he writes for his blog www.spookysean.com, and creates fiction your parents wouldn’t approve of.)
The deviant sons of bitches at Cheap Heat Productions are at it again. The folks behind my favorite short film of 2010 The Living Want Me Dead (winner of the Audience Award at the 2010 NYC Horror Film Fest) just wrapped their latest short, "VICKI". Fans of John Carpenter's (admittedly dated) Christine are in for a hell of a treat.
Director Bill Palmer and actor Adam Conger team up once again, this time spoofing the killer car tale based on Stephen King's novel. If you know the source material, you know the story. Leslie Waterhatch (Conger) is your run of the mill nerd that's bullied by the local hooligans and ignored by the school hottie. After he buys a run down sports car turned jalopy and fixes her up, he adopts a whole new attitude on life, and is soon the cool guy with the fast car with a hot girl riding shotgun. Vicki doesn't take well to playing second banana, and is soon wreaking bloody havoc on anyone that comes between Leslie and her.
Vicki follows the beats of the source material while giving a playful thumb of the nose at the staples of 80's horror. One particular source of visual comedy is the steady procession of over the top fashion choices form the era Conger sports from scene to scene. Palmers adds nifty little homages throughout. For example, a extreme closeup on Conger's shattered eyeglass lens drew reminiscence of Hoffman in Straw Dogs.
I was a huge fan of Conger's performance in The Living Want Me Dead and he doesn't disappoint in the follow up. He's able to sell ridiculous moment, such as a scene where it looks an awful lot like he and Vicki are getting too close, all set to Debbie Gibson's Lost In Your Eyes (a song anyone of of age furiously made out to under the dimmed gymnasium lights of many a junior high school dance). Add in his ability to spout 80's catch phrases with a straight face and you have a good comic lead.
Spoofs can be tricky to pull off. Go too far over the line and you turn into "Jackie Whackadoo's Funhouse of Jokes" and become a chore to watch. The folks at Cheap Heat know what they're doing, and have pulled off a pair of shorts that blend horror, deadpan comedy and gore gags to near perfection.
The first
five minutes of any movie are the best opportunity to set the mood for the rest
of your cinematic experience. Will it be atmospheric? Terrifying? Hilarious? In
the case of Chillerama you get a strong
impression of the film right away. It’s going to be disgusting, hilarious, and
the most delightfully campy film you have seen in years. Though it is much more
of a comedy written by horror devotees than film that will raise the hair on the
back of your neck, it is still a great entry into the strong tradition of
horror anthology films.
It begins
with the wrap around episode “Zom-B Movie” (directed by Joe Lynch). In a
fake-looking cemetery that would make Ed Wood proud, a sleazy guy has just dug
up his long dead wife for some “dead head.” Rather than letting her corpse get
orally raped, her inexplicably-animated jaws clamps down on his junk, and he spews
painful looking fluorescent blue blood. Just as he escapes her grip, he realizes
he is running late for his job as a projectionist at the last night of a drive-in
theater. As he limps his way to the lot he weaves through the queuing cars and we
are introduced to the rest of the film’s characters. We meet a car full of horror
movie buff teenagers, a young couple who hauled their infant along for the
night, and the jerk that bought the lot and is planning on turning it into a
shopping mall as soon as the last reel is over.
Right from the beginning we have a zombie in the making, teenagers,
sexual violence, and a great premise for multiple chapters of films. But before
we can get to the rest of the plot of this installment in Chillerama, we need to watch the other parts of the film.
“Wadzilla” is
a parody nuclear fear film along the lines of Them and Attack of the 50
Foot Woman. Only, the threat in
“Wadzilla” is actually a giant sperm! After seeking his doctor’s advice for his
sexual problems, Miles (played by director Adam Rifkin) is given an
experimental treatment which turns what would typically end up on a tissue in
the garbage to an exponentially expanding beast that wriggles its way across
New York City. And all of this while his is on a blind date that is both out of
his league and interested in him too. The corniness of “Wadzilla” makes this
sequence really funny, rather than tedious. You would think that watching an
entire short film based on sperm jokes would be tedious, but it is actually
clever and endearing.
The second
film shown at the drive-in is a beach blanket parody “I Was a Teenage Werebear”
(directed by Tim Sullivan). Perhaps I am a bit naïve, but I was looking forward
to seeing grown men, playing teenagers, dressed in bear costumes. I was delighted;
however, to see that the bears that these teenagers morph in to are in fact
leather clad, large hairy gay men. Put them in a few pseudo-60s musical numbers
that could give Grease a run for its
money, and I was overjoyed! Gallons of fake blood, a prophetic gypsy, a Ron
Jeremy cameo, and enough bondage gear to rival Hellraiser makes this a silly, but ultimately entertaining clip.
Before seeing
more of the hijinx going on at the drive-in (the blue blood has gotten in to
the popcorn, and now the entire lot is getting infected!) we move on to the
next movie for the night. “The Diary of Anne Frankenstein” (directed by Adam
Green) might just be the best of the bunch. It starts with Anne Frank, hidden
away from the Nazis, writing in her diary. All of a sudden Hitler and his goons
burst through the wall, kill the family, and steal Anne’s diary. But rather
than containing a narrative about Anne’s day to day life hiding from the
tyranny of the Nazi regime, it is actually a text that describes the
reanimation of dead in order to have them do your bidding. Naturally Hitler is
intrigued and he sets out to build a killing machine of his own. His monster is
a giant sized rabbi (played by Kane Hodder, who clearly enjoys chewing up the scenery)
who he names Meshugannah. When Hitler’s monster refuses to kill for the sake of
killing, it instead turns against his men and rips them to shreds, in some
cases literally. The kills are wonderfully fake here, and fans of bad horror
films will really enjoy how intentionally executed the poor effects are, but
the real fun here is the portrayal of Hitler himself. While all of the other
characters around him are actually speaking German, Hitler is spewing vague gibberish,
even slipping in a “Boba Fett” while commanding his troops. The busty and promiscuous
Eva Braun flirting with his men adds to the foolish characterization of Hitler
too. And who doesn’t like belittling and
laughing at Hitler? This short film is by no means a horror film, but it is
very funny and has a good amount of blood.
After a false
start at a fourth film at the drive-in (“Deathication” looked like it would
have been shitty – pun intended- and tedious film, so no love it lost when it
abruptly ends) we get to watch the conclusion of “Zom-B Movie.” The entire
drive-in has been taken over by sex-crazed zombies hunting down the remaining
survivors. From here out is a predictable zombie movie. The characters act as
you would expect them to, and the guns run out of ammo as if on cue. What saves
the rest of the movie from being too conventional is the barrage of movie
quotes. All of the last three characters spend their last moments of earth
going speaking in nothing but quotes from classic and cult films. It’s almost like trivia night at a pub and it makes
you feel like years of being a horror nerd have paid off when you get the
references.
My only
complaint about the film is the long run time.
While it does move rapidly between the different stories, it nearly
drags at two hours long. The film itself
looks beautiful; much better than the small budget films it is emulating. Overall Chillerama
was absolutely worth the time.
(Deirdre Crimmins lives in Boston with her husband and two black cats. She wrote her Master's thesis on George Romero and works too much.)
Great news for people that enjoy smartly crafted and beautifully acted post apocalyptic horror movies. Elias Matar's anatomy of an deadly viral outbreak film ASHES is now available from Osiris Entertainment. Back in December I ranked this as the #1 Unreleased Horror Film of the Yearand I would bet one million spacebucks its ends up on many 2012 year end best-of lists.
Brian Krause stars as a doctor on the verge of a discovery that could wipe out deadly diseases. When a young boy is dumped in the emergency room, the doctor uses an untested sample on the child in a last ditch attempt to buy more time to save his life. The unintended consequences of his humanitarian gestures leave the doctor wracked with a sickness that swiftly deteriorates his mind and body. The question isn't can the doctor save himself, but can he stop his contagion from spreading. Matar's film is a tense thriller that takes the rare tact of examining the end of civilization from its inception rather than thrusting its characters into a nightmare scenario.
In the opening moments of We Need to Talk About Kevin, we witness Eva Khatchadourian (Tilda Swinton) being carried in a Christ-like pose through the streets of a Valencian La Tomatina Celebration. It's a flashback to a tumultuous, exciting time in her youth. As tomatoes are thrown about, bodies of the celebrants thrash around splattering each other with the gore-like tomato debris. The tomato-soaked crowd appears as though covered in blood, and it's not made clear as to whether they are having fun or panicking. Eva is covered in tomato muck and finally rests nearly drowned in a great red tide of pulp and juice. Though she appears blissful, she is the sacrificial lamb for the events about to unfold. This opening makes a bold statement as to her role as a woman and a mother. This type of heavy symbolism would recur throughout Lynn Ramsay's film adaptation of the Lionel Shriver book.
Ramsay's vision of the story is told in non-linear fashion, evident by the next shot of flashing police and ambulance lights, the troubled face of an "older" Eva amongst a hysterical crowd gathered outside of a much different event. We know something terribly tragic has happened involving Eva's son and his high school classmates. Before we find out exactly what's transpired, we retrace the steps of Eva's life before and after the birth of her son, Kevin. The film works itself out within a disjointed timeline, outlining possibilities, while the viewer looks for cause and effect. Ramsay effectively pieces things together with jarring juxtapositions of Eva's hopeful life before Kevin's birth, the frustrating struggles raising him, and the depressing aftermath in the wake of the tragic event.
Eva and Franklin (John C. Reilly) have a loving relationship, and relatively happy life together. Much of their early relationship is spent carefree, travelling to exotic places, and dreaming of future success. Shortly after their marriage, Eva gives birth to Kevin. Seemingly healthy, she can't understand why the baby never stops crying. Already off on a bad foot, the strain in the relationship of mother to son is evident right away as she can provide no comfort to the child. His incessant blaring is a cause of great stress to the point that she'd (literally) seek refuge from his cries in standing beside a pounding jackhammer. Franklin, coming home to a calm, sleeping baby, can't grasp why Eva is so stressed. To him - and possibly even to Eva - her reaction might be attributed to the newborn putting a damper on her previously adventurous life. It's this early resentment that acts as a catalyst to the rest of the film. What exactly is Eva doing wrong? Is her perceived resentment the root of the terrible future tragedy?
Against Eva's wishes, Franklin moves the three out to a well-to-do suburban neighborhood where they can provide themselves and Kevin with all the best accruements. It could be a fresh start in a perfect world. The only problem is Kevin. Each stage of Kevin's development brings a new nightmare. Still in diapers by age four, Kevin is defiant in every possible way. There's a mean streak in him that goes beyond being merely a "difficult" or "rebellious" child. His eyes betray a disturbing disdain for his mother. By the time he's an adolescent, he appears downright dangerous. As a teen, Kevin picks up questionable hobbies like archery and collecting (creating?) computer viruses. He clearly displays sociopathic tendencies, and obviously harbors nothing but malice in his every action. He takes great pleasure in making Eva suffer while interacting in a cool casualness with everyone else. He's making her look like the bad one, the guilty one. Eva occasionally stands up for herself, but always comes up looking unreasonable and selfish in the eyes of her husband.
After the tragic event, Eva finds herself alone, jobless, utterly depressed, and living in a dilapidated home. She is trying to put her life back together, but extreme grief, guilt, addiction, and the pervasive hatred of the grief-stricken townspeople prevent her from rebuilding in any healthy way. Her life has been utterly destroyed. Since fingers point to the parents first for the wrongdoings of children, Eva takes the lion's share of the blame. Kevin's sins rest firmly on her shoulders. However, no slap in the face, rude stare, or cruel prank from the grieving town are as harsh as the punishment Eva inflicts on herself. Walking around nearly catatonic, her memory is a way of poking around for causes, continually chastising herself as she replays her own life.
While We Need to Talk About Kevin can be a bit heavy-handed and overwrought with symbolism, it's still a powerful look at parenting, guilt, sacrifice, gender roles, and the suffocating blame placed on mothers when things go wrong. Kevin comes from a home where he has all the comforts afforded by his family. He's not some ignored child of privilege. He receives plenty of attention from both his mother and father. There is no evidence of him having been bullied by classmates. He has every opportunity to live an enriched, fullfilling life. Yet, his worldview is bleak, his manner cold and distant, and his view of humanity is anything but shiny. He's an enigma through and through.
Swinton is magnificent, her subtle portrayal of Eva working brilliantly with the somber tone and risky themes. Is she justified in her anger and frustration, or simply not "mom" material? Her emotions often border on outright hatred of Kevin, but also showing great patience and love in the face of his disturbing personality. Their relationship is more cat-and-mouse than anything remotely resembling nurturing love, but Eva admirably keeps trying. Reilly plays well against her as Franklin, a father who wants to be his kid's best friend more than exercise his role as parent. He turns a blind eye toward Kevin's frightening idiosyncracies, quick to use Eva's insecurities as a scapegoat. Their relationship is slowly coming apart at the seams, and clearly on a path to destruction.
The performance of the younger children (Jasper Newell, Rock Duer) are solid. They play Kevin with such menace, the viewer has no choice but to side with Eva. In these early stages of Kevin's life, it's a little tough to gain his sympathy even when he's sick or nursing a broken arm. Unfortunately, Ezra Miller plays his antagonistic teen Kevin a little too over-the-top. He's almost a charicature of the "evil kid" in movies like The Bad Seed or The Omen, moreso than the younger actors. I'd have preferred a more subtle, nuanced take that alluded to his sociopathic tendencies rather than have his spitefulness so in-your-face. Because of it, the film occasionally flirts with playing as an updated Rosemary's Baby. Kevin could be the devil's child all grown up, this film following Satan's spawn in the subsequent years (wait, wasn't that already a movie?). In fact, there is a funny homage to Polanski's film, and a surprising smattering of clever, dark humor to boot. I'm not 100% sure Ramsay's motivations here, but I think it's partially to downplay what's really being said: "Hey, look, sometimes kids really are evil assholes, and it's normal to feel hatred towards them".
My comparisons to The Omen and Rosemary's Baby are, of course, an overstatement. The film is certainly rooted in realism. Kevin is not the anti-christ, nor is he possessed by demons. There is nothing supernatural about the story at all. However, for me, that realism was threatened a number of times by the older Kevin's overly brooding looks and melodramatic diatribes. If Miller had reeled it in, the already nifty film would be that much better.
I have yet to read Shriver's book, but I'm really eager to make a comparison between it and Ramsay's interpretation. From my perspective, Ramsey and her production team succeed mightily in creating an effective and affecting film. The film looks great, and special attention should be paid to the brilliant editing. Ramsay is also careful not to dip her toes into the more sensationalistic aspects. We never see what Kevin did to his classmates, nor does the film dwell on many of the other violent aspects. Her focus is directly on the conflicted emotions and confusion of her characters, never to be distracted by excess.
Filmgoers looking for typical explanations or pat endings will find Ramsay's film frustrating. It's easy to pin tragic behavior on any number of easily digested factors. The scary thing is that no matter how deep the probing, the verdict might simply be that some kids are just born straight up evil.
