The good films make you forget that you're watching a film. Malignant does the exact opposite. The intention here may have been to indulge in the over-the-top genre-isms, but in a way that would feel fun and knowingly indulgent. If you're looking for a film that does this well, look no further than Barbarian (2022) or the obvious Scream (1996). To be fair, that's a type of nuanced territory that can be hard to zero in on. Whatever the case, it feels like something was lost here in transition from script to screen. Though it is stylistically unsophisticated, the concept is not without creative merit. When the killer is revealed in all its glory, the final act suggests a grab-bag of potential source material. Among these, would be the inevitable Elm Street, Halloween, Exorcist and Psycho, but even Mortal Kombat and obscure cult movie Basket Case (1982) could have served as inspiration. I'm giving it a low rating, but it should be noted that it's not a shallow movie. There's plenty of heart and the emotional weight of the character's trauma and familial tension are not lost in the chaos.
Reviews
103 Reviews
Polar
(I) (2019)
I know it's a "comic book movie," but even comics and graphic novels can be sophisticated and nuanced.
24 November 2023
Sex n violence. Boobs n bullets. Nonsense and quirk. Even a bit of sadism. The first 5 minutes indicate that this is exactly what you're in for and unless you're a frat boy hanging out with your bros who want to watch a "legit" movie that's "straight fire," you will probably feel let down.
Overly stylized action scenes and ...wait! ...now he's buying a cute dog? I guess they're going for the whole John Wick thing. Mads Mikkelsen has a compelling presence but... DID HE JUST SHOOT THE DOG? Why? Because he woke up from a fever dream? Is this supposed to be funny? What was the point of this???We will now take guesses on how many viewers stopped watching after this.
Hudgens character is the saving grace of the story but in a film with an excess of hyperbole and hijinks, any genuine connection that goes beyond cutesy acquaintance is impossible. But it turns out that was never the point, so this criticism is admittedly a tad incidental.
If a film is knowingly over the top and going full swing into the genre tropes, there is merit to that. But merit is not the same as credit and creatively - comic adaptation or not - Polar has none. A few other reviews here are insistent that a film avoiding pretentious high-brow traits of oscar-bait films has to be regarded for its simple ambition and entertainment value. Why? We've seen it done before. Whether it's Boondock Saints, Smoking Aces, Wick or Nobody, snappy editing and gun-fu is redundant.
Overly stylized action scenes and ...wait! ...now he's buying a cute dog? I guess they're going for the whole John Wick thing. Mads Mikkelsen has a compelling presence but... DID HE JUST SHOOT THE DOG? Why? Because he woke up from a fever dream? Is this supposed to be funny? What was the point of this???We will now take guesses on how many viewers stopped watching after this.
Hudgens character is the saving grace of the story but in a film with an excess of hyperbole and hijinks, any genuine connection that goes beyond cutesy acquaintance is impossible. But it turns out that was never the point, so this criticism is admittedly a tad incidental.
If a film is knowingly over the top and going full swing into the genre tropes, there is merit to that. But merit is not the same as credit and creatively - comic adaptation or not - Polar has none. A few other reviews here are insistent that a film avoiding pretentious high-brow traits of oscar-bait films has to be regarded for its simple ambition and entertainment value. Why? We've seen it done before. Whether it's Boondock Saints, Smoking Aces, Wick or Nobody, snappy editing and gun-fu is redundant.
Last Seen Alive
(2022)
Wait... that's it???? Seriously? That's the twist?
15 September 2023
Warning: Spoilers
There is a type of twist you don't see much in films. You don't see it much because it is disappointing and most film makers know better. It's the "anti-twist." The twist is... that there is no twist. Get it? Stupid, right? Well, that's what we get with Last Seen Alive.
The first scene is an out of control detective strong-arming a hapless pathetic criminal. "You must be the dumbest MF alive to kidnap a woman in broad daylight. Where is she?" "She's dead!" Automatically, we are set up to believe that Detective Patterson is likely a crooked cop who is not interrogating the bumbling kidnapper, but rather reprimanding him for being a screw-up. Perhaps the kidnapping is part of some greater scheme concocted by this villain disguised as a servant of the people. If you're like me, this is what you figured.
So when we reach the end of this movie and it turns out that the detective is in fact, not an antagonist, are we surprised? Sure. Are we intrigued? No! Do we regard this fake-out as clever? Not really. It's made even more underwhelming by the fact that nothing plot-wise has unraveled in the slightest. There is no "last person you'd suspect." The only character that even fits the surprise culprit bit is the store clerk. But that's not a surprise because we saw him lie about the cameras not working. Are we supposed to sit with jaws dropped at the fact that a minor character turns out to be a key player?
Back to the detective though. The script here could have easily been adjusted to create a legitimate twist, albeit an unsophisticated one. They could have added a partner for the over-zealous detective who appears straight-laced, clean-cut, well-polished, etc. This young idealistic rookie detective is juxtaposed nicely with the aggro Patterson we've come to be suspicious of. Then you add the twist that it is in fact, the partner who has ordered this kidnapping. Perhaps Knuckles is his cousin or something. Is this a clever twist? No. I came up with it in two minutes. Would it be better than the big steaming pile of nothing we get with the climax of this movie? Definitely! Why? Because it's an ACTUAL TWIST!
This is to say nothing of the film's other flaws. It never emerges from the shadows of movies it imitates, like Breakdown (1997), a much better film. It also lingers for what feels like a tedious half an hour of Butler sneaking through a meth compound. The tension may be there initially, but once you get to the fifteen minute mark, it has dissipated. Furthermore, the tables are never turned on Butler to such a degree that we doubt he will succeed. He comes out on top in each fight, with barely a bruise. He evades the bad guys and cops without ever being detained. We never get the sense that the odds are truly against him.
If you're looking for a better film that won't leave you underwhelmed, look no further than Breakdown.
The first scene is an out of control detective strong-arming a hapless pathetic criminal. "You must be the dumbest MF alive to kidnap a woman in broad daylight. Where is she?" "She's dead!" Automatically, we are set up to believe that Detective Patterson is likely a crooked cop who is not interrogating the bumbling kidnapper, but rather reprimanding him for being a screw-up. Perhaps the kidnapping is part of some greater scheme concocted by this villain disguised as a servant of the people. If you're like me, this is what you figured.
So when we reach the end of this movie and it turns out that the detective is in fact, not an antagonist, are we surprised? Sure. Are we intrigued? No! Do we regard this fake-out as clever? Not really. It's made even more underwhelming by the fact that nothing plot-wise has unraveled in the slightest. There is no "last person you'd suspect." The only character that even fits the surprise culprit bit is the store clerk. But that's not a surprise because we saw him lie about the cameras not working. Are we supposed to sit with jaws dropped at the fact that a minor character turns out to be a key player?
Back to the detective though. The script here could have easily been adjusted to create a legitimate twist, albeit an unsophisticated one. They could have added a partner for the over-zealous detective who appears straight-laced, clean-cut, well-polished, etc. This young idealistic rookie detective is juxtaposed nicely with the aggro Patterson we've come to be suspicious of. Then you add the twist that it is in fact, the partner who has ordered this kidnapping. Perhaps Knuckles is his cousin or something. Is this a clever twist? No. I came up with it in two minutes. Would it be better than the big steaming pile of nothing we get with the climax of this movie? Definitely! Why? Because it's an ACTUAL TWIST!
This is to say nothing of the film's other flaws. It never emerges from the shadows of movies it imitates, like Breakdown (1997), a much better film. It also lingers for what feels like a tedious half an hour of Butler sneaking through a meth compound. The tension may be there initially, but once you get to the fifteen minute mark, it has dissipated. Furthermore, the tables are never turned on Butler to such a degree that we doubt he will succeed. He comes out on top in each fight, with barely a bruise. He evades the bad guys and cops without ever being detained. We never get the sense that the odds are truly against him.
If you're looking for a better film that won't leave you underwhelmed, look no further than Breakdown.
Total Recall
(I) (2012)
Don't you GET IT!?!? It's all connected! You're not who you think you are!
4 August 2023
...blah, blah, blah ...and more blah!
Remakes are of course, excessive. Still, there have been some worthwhile examples. Child's Play (2019) was a fun reimagining of the 1988 original. Tim Burton's Charlie and the Chocolate Factory (2005) was stylistically interesting enough that I personally prefer it to the original. I know. How could I? With this version of Total Recall, the issue is not any sort of deviation from the ...classic? Was it really a classic? I mean, not a classic the way that Predator was a classic. Anyway, the issue with Total Recall (2012) is that it never deviates from the cliches. The blood on the face with the gel in the hair. The girlfriend wearing make-up in bed. Now we're wearing black trench coats and gas masks as we swagger off to meet the leader of the resistance. It all looks great and there's a fun car chase, but it's not exactly going to get us invested enough that we forget we're watching a blockbuster.
Hell, we're not even spared the Matrix-level philosophizing jargon of the pretentious characters.
"The past is a construct of the mind!" "But the past tells us who we become." And my eyes rolling is a construct of my boredom. By the time we get to the third act, I still can't get over Kate Beckinsale NOT once putting her hair in a ponytail as she's leaping, jumping and shooting.
If you want to see Colin pull some kung fu on some storm troopers or gaze in admiration and envy at the high-tech gadgets on display in this film, by all means, proceed.
Remakes are of course, excessive. Still, there have been some worthwhile examples. Child's Play (2019) was a fun reimagining of the 1988 original. Tim Burton's Charlie and the Chocolate Factory (2005) was stylistically interesting enough that I personally prefer it to the original. I know. How could I? With this version of Total Recall, the issue is not any sort of deviation from the ...classic? Was it really a classic? I mean, not a classic the way that Predator was a classic. Anyway, the issue with Total Recall (2012) is that it never deviates from the cliches. The blood on the face with the gel in the hair. The girlfriend wearing make-up in bed. Now we're wearing black trench coats and gas masks as we swagger off to meet the leader of the resistance. It all looks great and there's a fun car chase, but it's not exactly going to get us invested enough that we forget we're watching a blockbuster.
Hell, we're not even spared the Matrix-level philosophizing jargon of the pretentious characters.
"The past is a construct of the mind!" "But the past tells us who we become." And my eyes rolling is a construct of my boredom. By the time we get to the third act, I still can't get over Kate Beckinsale NOT once putting her hair in a ponytail as she's leaping, jumping and shooting.
If you want to see Colin pull some kung fu on some storm troopers or gaze in admiration and envy at the high-tech gadgets on display in this film, by all means, proceed.
Shock Waves
(1977)
Dead in the Water.
31 December 2022
Warning: Spoilers
Floating on an oddly still ocean horizon, the main characters find their boat under a strange sun. It's like radioactive or something. Anyway, the film looks bleached, the music unsettling and the mood ominous. Then when the sun sets, a shadowy ship crashes into them. Thus begins the awakening of the SS zombies from their watery slumber. No, SS does not stand for submersible soldiers. These creepy albinos don't even appear that vicious. Imagine Michael Myers meets Frankenstrudel.
The first one to die is the crotchety captain, then Chef Sloshworth. His is perhaps the most awkward death of all since he's not even really killed by the undead dullards. He just slips and falls on some anemones.
The imagery of blonde zombies in Nazi uniforms with pruney skin is striking and memorable. The setting was primed to deliver the entertainment with this premise which was rife with sensational campy potential. But the sense of urgency just isn't there. The pace of the film is as slow as the deteriorating fascists. One thing that is missing is a strong antagonist. Peter Cushing delivers his signature presence of theatrical gloom, but his character amounts to little more than an orator of exposition. His demise is as underwhelming as Cushing's anger at the new arrivals. It's certainly not on par with his Grand Moff Tarkin from Star Wars, released in the same year. We don't even get much antagonism with the shipwrecked gang of passengers. In a scenario like this, you'd typically witness an ongoing debate between the resident alpha tool and the more reasonable sympathetic hero-type. But the closest we get to a quarrelsome dynamic between any of the characters comes when hysteria sets in around the third act. By that time, it's too late though. We could have used this kind of fever pitch tension half an hour earlier.
In other ways, it's actually somewhat remarkable. The tropical atmosphere is combined with a synthsational score that is oddly tranquil but at the same time, eerie. It's so effective that even with most of the scenes shot in the day time, you're uneasy enough to forget that. Speaking of forgetting, that's another problem with the film. It would appear that they simply forgot to complete it in post-production. Witness the scene where one character feels her way through a dark kitchen. Only, it's not dark. Presumably, they intended to make it appear dark through basic effects after principal photography wrapped.
The first one to die is the crotchety captain, then Chef Sloshworth. His is perhaps the most awkward death of all since he's not even really killed by the undead dullards. He just slips and falls on some anemones.
The imagery of blonde zombies in Nazi uniforms with pruney skin is striking and memorable. The setting was primed to deliver the entertainment with this premise which was rife with sensational campy potential. But the sense of urgency just isn't there. The pace of the film is as slow as the deteriorating fascists. One thing that is missing is a strong antagonist. Peter Cushing delivers his signature presence of theatrical gloom, but his character amounts to little more than an orator of exposition. His demise is as underwhelming as Cushing's anger at the new arrivals. It's certainly not on par with his Grand Moff Tarkin from Star Wars, released in the same year. We don't even get much antagonism with the shipwrecked gang of passengers. In a scenario like this, you'd typically witness an ongoing debate between the resident alpha tool and the more reasonable sympathetic hero-type. But the closest we get to a quarrelsome dynamic between any of the characters comes when hysteria sets in around the third act. By that time, it's too late though. We could have used this kind of fever pitch tension half an hour earlier.
In other ways, it's actually somewhat remarkable. The tropical atmosphere is combined with a synthsational score that is oddly tranquil but at the same time, eerie. It's so effective that even with most of the scenes shot in the day time, you're uneasy enough to forget that. Speaking of forgetting, that's another problem with the film. It would appear that they simply forgot to complete it in post-production. Witness the scene where one character feels her way through a dark kitchen. Only, it's not dark. Presumably, they intended to make it appear dark through basic effects after principal photography wrapped.
Vengeance
(1976)
Surprisingly thoughtful and gritty!
30 December 2022
Before Leif Garrett became a Soc in The Outsiders, he played an angelic orphan on a crusade of revenge in Vengeance ...or Kid Vengeance ...or Vendetta if we go by what the credits tell us. If you're not super familiar with Garrett, then you're probably like me ...not a teenage girl in the 80s.
Leif plays Tom, the son of wagon-wheeling simple folk. His life turns tragic when his family's camp is visited by Lee Van Cleef's McClain and his bandits. What starts as cow killing and arm wrestling becomes sadistic when McClain takes the mother out of sight to rape her. If you're familiar with the genre and era, it would be naive to be shocked. It is still nauseating to watch though. Things get even worse when the parents are killed as Tom watches and remains helpless as the thugs kidnap his sister. Now that we are emotionally engaged, the film proceeds to be more entertaining than I anticipated. A clever Tom stalks the gang and picks them off one by one without a single gun. The ingenuity on display would impress both Rambo and Crocodile Dundee. One of the bad guys gets a slithering surprise when Tom leaves a venomous snake in his saddlebag. There's plenty of sting in store for the rest of the roving scumbags as it turns out this preteen force is a scorpion whisperer as well. He's like a rugged Kevin McCallister type and honestly, the antics are not like anything I've seen in another movie, let alone a western.
Jim Brown plays a loner named Isaac who eventually partners with Tom to help him save his sister. Brown's film career wasn't extensive but he has an undeniable stoic charm and a contoured face that befits a bonafide star. He's contrasted well with Van Cleef, who had a face tailor-made for celluloid villainy and he was more than a little seasoned when it came to playing this kind of role. If there was a Mount Rushmore of western heavies, Van Cleef's likeness would no doubt be chiseled into the rock next to Jack Palance and Eli Wallach. Unfortunately, the costumer designer did him dirtier than a yella-bellied sodbuster here. He looks less like a cowboy and more like a biker on vacation with a pirate earing and an underwhelming bandana.
While not overtly grindhouse, the film shows it's age with wear and literal tear. It would appear that what we're watching was recorded off of a projector screen that was actually torn. I suppose it adds to the retro charm. There's plenty of ping pang bullets, goofy hats and the one-liners are laid on thick.
"It'll take a whole lotta doin' gettin' in there." "I weren't no officer but that don't mean I know nothin' 'bout milituree ways." There's even a "lickity-split" thrown in.
Leif plays Tom, the son of wagon-wheeling simple folk. His life turns tragic when his family's camp is visited by Lee Van Cleef's McClain and his bandits. What starts as cow killing and arm wrestling becomes sadistic when McClain takes the mother out of sight to rape her. If you're familiar with the genre and era, it would be naive to be shocked. It is still nauseating to watch though. Things get even worse when the parents are killed as Tom watches and remains helpless as the thugs kidnap his sister. Now that we are emotionally engaged, the film proceeds to be more entertaining than I anticipated. A clever Tom stalks the gang and picks them off one by one without a single gun. The ingenuity on display would impress both Rambo and Crocodile Dundee. One of the bad guys gets a slithering surprise when Tom leaves a venomous snake in his saddlebag. There's plenty of sting in store for the rest of the roving scumbags as it turns out this preteen force is a scorpion whisperer as well. He's like a rugged Kevin McCallister type and honestly, the antics are not like anything I've seen in another movie, let alone a western.
Jim Brown plays a loner named Isaac who eventually partners with Tom to help him save his sister. Brown's film career wasn't extensive but he has an undeniable stoic charm and a contoured face that befits a bonafide star. He's contrasted well with Van Cleef, who had a face tailor-made for celluloid villainy and he was more than a little seasoned when it came to playing this kind of role. If there was a Mount Rushmore of western heavies, Van Cleef's likeness would no doubt be chiseled into the rock next to Jack Palance and Eli Wallach. Unfortunately, the costumer designer did him dirtier than a yella-bellied sodbuster here. He looks less like a cowboy and more like a biker on vacation with a pirate earing and an underwhelming bandana.
While not overtly grindhouse, the film shows it's age with wear and literal tear. It would appear that what we're watching was recorded off of a projector screen that was actually torn. I suppose it adds to the retro charm. There's plenty of ping pang bullets, goofy hats and the one-liners are laid on thick.
"It'll take a whole lotta doin' gettin' in there." "I weren't no officer but that don't mean I know nothin' 'bout milituree ways." There's even a "lickity-split" thrown in.
The Devil to Pay
(I) (2019)
Deadwyler is great, but...
27 December 2022
Warning: Spoilers
In the Appalachians, Lemon Cassidy is a rugged mother, raising chickens and a handsome goat. When she's not tending to the chores, she's having to explain to her son that his dad can't tuck him in because he's "off galavantin'."
One day, two scruffians show up and it would appear that they are collectors of the neo-Western sort. In actuality, they are simply the errand boys of an evil Betty Crocker type named Tommy, an "Arch" of this wild land.
In this region of the country, the people abide by a "creed" that is never explained but obviously part of a system whereby the "(patri or matri)Archs" hold sway over less notorious families. Tommy is one of those Archs and unfortunately, Lemon is tasked with reconciling a debt incurred by her husband who has been "skunked." I'm still not sure what that means. Also, keep in mind that when she passes a sign that reads, "Runion," this is the name of the family, not the place. There are more than a couple of head-scratching moments served up here. Lemon takes a detour to deliver acid to a backwoods cult and while quirky and interesting ...even a bit nauseating, it's hardly crucial to the plot.
Danielle Deadwyler's wide-eyed performance as Lemon is intense and unique enough to give the film a distinctive identity and the mother/son connection is the beating heart of the story. As endearing as those qualities are, there still isn't quite enough here to get our emotions stirred to the point of leaving us shaken. It's a thoughtful film and the problematic morality creates a good exclamation point for it to finish on, but it lands awkwardly between gritty indie drama and provocative thriller. That middle ground somehow feels soft. I have to say it deserves credit for steering clear of any "homegrown justice" cliches and just barely misses the "don't-nobody-owe-you-nothin" level of melodrama. For some reason though, it doesn't achieve the same kind of urgency we got with Winter's Bone (2010) or Out of the Furnace (2013) which is a shame considering Deadwyler's dramatic skill is on par with Christian Bale and Jennifer Lawrence.
One day, two scruffians show up and it would appear that they are collectors of the neo-Western sort. In actuality, they are simply the errand boys of an evil Betty Crocker type named Tommy, an "Arch" of this wild land.
In this region of the country, the people abide by a "creed" that is never explained but obviously part of a system whereby the "(patri or matri)Archs" hold sway over less notorious families. Tommy is one of those Archs and unfortunately, Lemon is tasked with reconciling a debt incurred by her husband who has been "skunked." I'm still not sure what that means. Also, keep in mind that when she passes a sign that reads, "Runion," this is the name of the family, not the place. There are more than a couple of head-scratching moments served up here. Lemon takes a detour to deliver acid to a backwoods cult and while quirky and interesting ...even a bit nauseating, it's hardly crucial to the plot.
Danielle Deadwyler's wide-eyed performance as Lemon is intense and unique enough to give the film a distinctive identity and the mother/son connection is the beating heart of the story. As endearing as those qualities are, there still isn't quite enough here to get our emotions stirred to the point of leaving us shaken. It's a thoughtful film and the problematic morality creates a good exclamation point for it to finish on, but it lands awkwardly between gritty indie drama and provocative thriller. That middle ground somehow feels soft. I have to say it deserves credit for steering clear of any "homegrown justice" cliches and just barely misses the "don't-nobody-owe-you-nothin" level of melodrama. For some reason though, it doesn't achieve the same kind of urgency we got with Winter's Bone (2010) or Out of the Furnace (2013) which is a shame considering Deadwyler's dramatic skill is on par with Christian Bale and Jennifer Lawrence.
Rituals
(1977)
Hal vs. Hick
27 December 2022
In his later years, Hal Holbrook had a charming teddybear quality. In his Oscar nominated performance in Into the Wild (2007), his character showed a sincerity that was touching as well as damn-near heartbreaking. That was my introduction to the actor, so to see him in a movie this wild and gritty was notable. We even get to see him in his tighty whites. But don't worry. It's very brief.
Hal and his buddies play urban doctors who wanna get in touch with their rugged side. The cinqos amigos wade thru water, whack through the bush and suspiciously find their boots stolen hundreds of miles from civilization. Could it be that they're being stalked and robbed or did their sex doll come alive in the night and throw their footwear into the water? Yes, they bring a sex doll with them.
As the circumstances turn more dire and urgent, the friends contemplate out loud why their fates have taken a dive. This is when you come to realize that Rituals was meant to be more of a sophisticated film, despite how it may have been marketed at the time. It manages to avoid the over-the-top tropes of violence and gore that u see in other Hicksploitation features like Southern Comfort (1981) and Trapped (1982). It's not thriller escapism as much as it is survival realism. It's a more relatable adventure as the high-stress predicament turns tragic and even surreally comical in a disturbing way.
The film is flawed but it has its own identity. Even the sadism feels unique, which is no easy achievement. The slow burn quality is apparent as the unknown danger closes in. Unfortunately, the tension and animosity between the friends gets old very quick. When they argue over how to cross the river, you may be thinking, SHOW US THE MOUNTAINFOLK ALREADY! Mind you, that's when the anxiety hits a high note with a particularly wince-inducing riverbed surprise. It's as if the film knows that your attention may be waning.
Ultimately, this movie cannot be written off as a pale imitation of Deliverance.
Hal and his buddies play urban doctors who wanna get in touch with their rugged side. The cinqos amigos wade thru water, whack through the bush and suspiciously find their boots stolen hundreds of miles from civilization. Could it be that they're being stalked and robbed or did their sex doll come alive in the night and throw their footwear into the water? Yes, they bring a sex doll with them.
As the circumstances turn more dire and urgent, the friends contemplate out loud why their fates have taken a dive. This is when you come to realize that Rituals was meant to be more of a sophisticated film, despite how it may have been marketed at the time. It manages to avoid the over-the-top tropes of violence and gore that u see in other Hicksploitation features like Southern Comfort (1981) and Trapped (1982). It's not thriller escapism as much as it is survival realism. It's a more relatable adventure as the high-stress predicament turns tragic and even surreally comical in a disturbing way.
The film is flawed but it has its own identity. Even the sadism feels unique, which is no easy achievement. The slow burn quality is apparent as the unknown danger closes in. Unfortunately, the tension and animosity between the friends gets old very quick. When they argue over how to cross the river, you may be thinking, SHOW US THE MOUNTAINFOLK ALREADY! Mind you, that's when the anxiety hits a high note with a particularly wince-inducing riverbed surprise. It's as if the film knows that your attention may be waning.
Ultimately, this movie cannot be written off as a pale imitation of Deliverance.
RRR
(2022)
Brawlywood Epic
25 August 2022
Have u ever watched a movie that gave you the impression the director was trying to make the greatest movie of all time? S. S. Rajamouli didn't exactly succeed with that, and that's okay. His intention was possibly not as lofty but no less ambitious. He may have sought to simply make the most delightfully over-the-top movie you've seen.
A girl is kidnapped from her village by a plastic-faced British devil woman. How she managed to get work done in the pre-botox era is anyone's guess. Then we cut to the scene of a small police compound being surrounded by thousands of CGI locals. It's a scenario on par with Zulu (1964) but on the scale of World War Z (2013). Whatever the case, it's a high-anxZiety situation where we meet one half of our hero team. Raju stands guard with precision poise in a sea of chaos. But when the hostile sh** hits the fan, his stoic default setting is disabled and he goes into crowd control mode. What follows is a THWACK-BASH-POW demonstration that he is a one man wrecking ball. But of course he is passed over for promotion for not being white enough. When he takes out his frustration on a punching bag, it looks like he's auditioning for the latest DLC character to join the Street Fighter selection screen. Move over Dhalsim! While Raju likely fulfills every Chuck Norris myth ever created, he is not the only mighty manimal in this country.
We are introduced to Bheem as he is playing a game of crouching body hair, smacking tiger deep in the jungle. Bheem is fierce, but he has more of a cuddly Teddy-bare-chest vibe. This will be juxtaposed nicely with Raju's suave presence and tucked in shirt.
These two cross paths when they pull off a coordinated acrobatic rescue using nothing but hand gestures and enthusiasm. It creates a bond that the soundtrack insists is historical. Whether these two will become the Lennon & McCartney of ass kicking, we don't know just yet. But it's quite possibly the cutest match-up in the subcontinent. Watch and giggle as Raju helps Bheem win over the apple of his eye by pulling a Mariokart tactic. Let's just say he nails it. Then it's a Bollywood dance off that will make you sweat just watching it. We haven't even hit the halfway mark yet.
A cast of thousands, gravity-defying stunts and a CGI tiger. No, it's not Army of Dead. This is RRR. It's essentially a martial arts spectacle heavy on the inspirational grand-standing while simultaneously making you laugh. Whether the heart-tugging moments are sincere and cheesy or satirical and hilarious is not clear. But when Bheem lays siege to the villain's palace by delivering the zoo, you've likely already accepted that the theatrics and melodrama are part of the package. That's to say nothing of Raju doing pull-ups in a 4x3 sweatbox utilizing nothing but a sewer grate and national pride. Hell, there's even a bit of parkour stealth during a rescue mission.
My only previous Indian epic viewing was Saaho (2019) and that 3 hour macho turd doesn't hold a candle to RRR. If you can stomach the running time and the sappy dramatics, you will be rewarded with a feast of action and maybe even a few tears.
A girl is kidnapped from her village by a plastic-faced British devil woman. How she managed to get work done in the pre-botox era is anyone's guess. Then we cut to the scene of a small police compound being surrounded by thousands of CGI locals. It's a scenario on par with Zulu (1964) but on the scale of World War Z (2013). Whatever the case, it's a high-anxZiety situation where we meet one half of our hero team. Raju stands guard with precision poise in a sea of chaos. But when the hostile sh** hits the fan, his stoic default setting is disabled and he goes into crowd control mode. What follows is a THWACK-BASH-POW demonstration that he is a one man wrecking ball. But of course he is passed over for promotion for not being white enough. When he takes out his frustration on a punching bag, it looks like he's auditioning for the latest DLC character to join the Street Fighter selection screen. Move over Dhalsim! While Raju likely fulfills every Chuck Norris myth ever created, he is not the only mighty manimal in this country.
We are introduced to Bheem as he is playing a game of crouching body hair, smacking tiger deep in the jungle. Bheem is fierce, but he has more of a cuddly Teddy-bare-chest vibe. This will be juxtaposed nicely with Raju's suave presence and tucked in shirt.
These two cross paths when they pull off a coordinated acrobatic rescue using nothing but hand gestures and enthusiasm. It creates a bond that the soundtrack insists is historical. Whether these two will become the Lennon & McCartney of ass kicking, we don't know just yet. But it's quite possibly the cutest match-up in the subcontinent. Watch and giggle as Raju helps Bheem win over the apple of his eye by pulling a Mariokart tactic. Let's just say he nails it. Then it's a Bollywood dance off that will make you sweat just watching it. We haven't even hit the halfway mark yet.
A cast of thousands, gravity-defying stunts and a CGI tiger. No, it's not Army of Dead. This is RRR. It's essentially a martial arts spectacle heavy on the inspirational grand-standing while simultaneously making you laugh. Whether the heart-tugging moments are sincere and cheesy or satirical and hilarious is not clear. But when Bheem lays siege to the villain's palace by delivering the zoo, you've likely already accepted that the theatrics and melodrama are part of the package. That's to say nothing of Raju doing pull-ups in a 4x3 sweatbox utilizing nothing but a sewer grate and national pride. Hell, there's even a bit of parkour stealth during a rescue mission.
My only previous Indian epic viewing was Saaho (2019) and that 3 hour macho turd doesn't hold a candle to RRR. If you can stomach the running time and the sappy dramatics, you will be rewarded with a feast of action and maybe even a few tears.
The Tax Collector
(2020)
(S)training Day
25 August 2022
David (Bobby Soto) and Creeper (Shia) are big dogs in the world of crime and drugs until a wolf comes to town and shows them that they are not as untouchable as they might think. The first act consists of David getting in people's faces while Creeper hangs back and takes it all in through cauliflower ears and Terminator shades. We learn that Creeper enjoys torture, raw fish, and has a carrot fetish. David is more on the simple side, leading a life of MMA training and improvised dental work. That's a reference to his daughter's loose tooth, not torture.
When the over-the-top villain Conejo (Jose Conejo Martin) enters, it's easy to feel concerned. You might even feel so intimidated that you don't recognize how one-dimensional he is. While this cartel creature is ferocious, the actor turns in a performance that feels very unsophisticated. The satanic tendencies may have even been added after principal photography to accentuate an antagonist that is quite forgettable. It is easily one of the biggest flaws of the movie.
The real problem here is that Ayer is still operating like a filmmaker with something to prove. With Training Day, Harsh Times and End of Watch, he has firmly established his brand as GGG (gritty grounded genre) and what he presents always feels authentic. But with Tax Collector, it feels like his story-telling is finally being crushed under the weight of the brand. Ayer prioritizes the checklist of gangster politics, grisly anecdotes and macho flexing and as a result, the more endearing aspects of moral dilemmas, familial strife and emotional anguish can barely squeeze through. The brand is laid on so thick that the heart of the story can barely breathe.
When the over-the-top villain Conejo (Jose Conejo Martin) enters, it's easy to feel concerned. You might even feel so intimidated that you don't recognize how one-dimensional he is. While this cartel creature is ferocious, the actor turns in a performance that feels very unsophisticated. The satanic tendencies may have even been added after principal photography to accentuate an antagonist that is quite forgettable. It is easily one of the biggest flaws of the movie.
The real problem here is that Ayer is still operating like a filmmaker with something to prove. With Training Day, Harsh Times and End of Watch, he has firmly established his brand as GGG (gritty grounded genre) and what he presents always feels authentic. But with Tax Collector, it feels like his story-telling is finally being crushed under the weight of the brand. Ayer prioritizes the checklist of gangster politics, grisly anecdotes and macho flexing and as a result, the more endearing aspects of moral dilemmas, familial strife and emotional anguish can barely squeeze through. The brand is laid on so thick that the heart of the story can barely breathe.
Beyond the Black Rainbow
(2010)
Up Close and Observational through the lense of sicko-delic, psychsploitation mood piece.
17 August 2022
You know how when you're watching a movie in the cinema, you may have to visit the restroom? You come back and say to your date, friend, mom or dad, "What did I miss?" Well, with Beyond the Black Rainbow, you could take a bathroom break for half an hour and you wouldn't miss anything. The pace is (s)nail-bitingly slow. Still, it's a film that is distinctively grotesque, and eerie. It gives a sense of what you might call chlostrophobic nausea. While the dense atmosphere is effective and appropriate at making you feel as trapped as the test subject/patient/adopted daughter likely does, it's not quite enough. The monotony of it all dulls any curiosity you may have initially had. You also aren't provided with enough plot points to hold your attention. You aren't given enough conflict to make you truly care. This is perhaps the best example of how a movie can be intriguing without being engaging.
As you watch ...and wait for something to happen, you have plenty of time to contemplate the motives and intentions of director Panos Cosmatos. If you had a truly cynical imagination you might speculate that this was intended to be an egomaniacal director-centric statement about the insignificance of actors in a visual medium. Maybe it's an insular odyssey of independence meant to shake you out of your perception prison known as Self. Maybe the facility has some other metaphoric significance. What that might be escapes me.
Overall, Panos is a filmmaker with a notable style and I will definitely be curious about any future project he releases. Unfortunately, Rainbow is more of a creative showcase for his artistic identity than it is a comprehensive film. Whatever struggle or emotional journey these characters might take is completely dwarfed by the Cosmatos light show. For a more entertaining experience, check out his other film Mandy.
As you watch ...and wait for something to happen, you have plenty of time to contemplate the motives and intentions of director Panos Cosmatos. If you had a truly cynical imagination you might speculate that this was intended to be an egomaniacal director-centric statement about the insignificance of actors in a visual medium. Maybe it's an insular odyssey of independence meant to shake you out of your perception prison known as Self. Maybe the facility has some other metaphoric significance. What that might be escapes me.
Overall, Panos is a filmmaker with a notable style and I will definitely be curious about any future project he releases. Unfortunately, Rainbow is more of a creative showcase for his artistic identity than it is a comprehensive film. Whatever struggle or emotional journey these characters might take is completely dwarfed by the Cosmatos light show. For a more entertaining experience, check out his other film Mandy.
In Time
(2011)
I almost timed out.
16 August 2022
Timberlake plays a working class factory drone in a reality that is more N'sane than N'sync. The currency is time and nobody in his part of town ever has much on hand ...or on their wrist that is.
When chance throws him a bone and a tragedy strikes soon after, Justin sets off with enough money to pay for his freshly righteous purpose. What his endgame is beyond dropping decades in the swankier part of town, we don't know. But the important thing is that things kick into high gear when he attends a post-casino party and literally gambles with his life. Thus comes the first hint of the "man-of-mystery" spy vibe that will play on and off throughout this film.
Amanda Seyfried's character falls for Justin when he encourages her to swim for the first time. But the love connection really develops after he takes her hostage at gunpoint. They proceed to embark on a Bonnie and Clueless venture. Noble as it might be, it gets pretty tiresome when the robberies are interspersed with frequent make-out breaks. The atmosphere is already one of fake-grime matched with perfect haircuts, so these "sexy" moments have about as much substance as a luxury whiskey commercial. The danger-makes-me-so-hot-for-you posturing is so tedious that when the bad guys close in at the one hour mark, you have to remind yourself to feel sympathetic for the protagonist and his kidnapee.
In Time has a solid basis for an engaging story, but ultimately can't escape what feels like a very generic genre routine. It doesn't help that it's stylistically familiar with an atmosphere that's kind of Matrix-lite meets Armani dystopia. That may sound slightly interesting until you realize that you've already seen it in movies like Inception and Looper. The genre tropes are always around the corner and chief among them is Justin's Bond-like finesse with a gun in a story that provides no explanation for him having such skill. His character is from the ghetto but he doesn't even dabble in petty crime, let alone any triggerific activity on par with Jason Bourne.
The acquisition of time currency is a good allegory for greed and needless wealth. Still, the morality gets pretty redundant. Your interest may also start to fade given that none of the unethical "have-mucho" antagonists develop a change of heart. Similarly, none of the have-nots ever get so persuaded by the life of excess that we ever doubt their intentions or motives. Cillian Murphy's timekeeper cop is intriguing as an ambiguous antagonist who might be an ally. But his character arc is underdeveloped and one of the missed opportunities of the film.
Anyway, it's entertaining enough. Certainly not timeless though. Wink!
When chance throws him a bone and a tragedy strikes soon after, Justin sets off with enough money to pay for his freshly righteous purpose. What his endgame is beyond dropping decades in the swankier part of town, we don't know. But the important thing is that things kick into high gear when he attends a post-casino party and literally gambles with his life. Thus comes the first hint of the "man-of-mystery" spy vibe that will play on and off throughout this film.
Amanda Seyfried's character falls for Justin when he encourages her to swim for the first time. But the love connection really develops after he takes her hostage at gunpoint. They proceed to embark on a Bonnie and Clueless venture. Noble as it might be, it gets pretty tiresome when the robberies are interspersed with frequent make-out breaks. The atmosphere is already one of fake-grime matched with perfect haircuts, so these "sexy" moments have about as much substance as a luxury whiskey commercial. The danger-makes-me-so-hot-for-you posturing is so tedious that when the bad guys close in at the one hour mark, you have to remind yourself to feel sympathetic for the protagonist and his kidnapee.
In Time has a solid basis for an engaging story, but ultimately can't escape what feels like a very generic genre routine. It doesn't help that it's stylistically familiar with an atmosphere that's kind of Matrix-lite meets Armani dystopia. That may sound slightly interesting until you realize that you've already seen it in movies like Inception and Looper. The genre tropes are always around the corner and chief among them is Justin's Bond-like finesse with a gun in a story that provides no explanation for him having such skill. His character is from the ghetto but he doesn't even dabble in petty crime, let alone any triggerific activity on par with Jason Bourne.
The acquisition of time currency is a good allegory for greed and needless wealth. Still, the morality gets pretty redundant. Your interest may also start to fade given that none of the unethical "have-mucho" antagonists develop a change of heart. Similarly, none of the have-nots ever get so persuaded by the life of excess that we ever doubt their intentions or motives. Cillian Murphy's timekeeper cop is intriguing as an ambiguous antagonist who might be an ally. But his character arc is underdeveloped and one of the missed opportunities of the film.
Anyway, it's entertaining enough. Certainly not timeless though. Wink!
High School Hellcats
(1958)
Hell hath no fu(r)ry like a cat pushed aside like hellkitty litter.
10 July 2022
Warning: Spoilers
Life ain't a chocolate malt with a cherry on top. Life is rough for hormonal teenagers. If it ain't the parents giving grief, it's the kids pushing you around until you get frazzled and yell something drastic like, "Look heeere," or "get bent!"
Joyce is a good girl. She's got enough class to fill a school. But her dear old dad is quick to lay down the law and he's occasionally slap happy. Mom, on the other hand is a bit more "psychological." That's the dad's word, not mine. The truth is that they both have their sensitive sides. Dad's is just a little stiffer.
When Joyce enters a new school, she encounters Connie and her Hellcats. Think the Pink Ladies from Grease (1978) only more switchblades. Right away, Connie gives Joyce the slacker test. I mean, the slacks test. You see wearing slacks is against the rules, but Joyce doesn't know that. If it sounds underwhelming, that's only because it is.
Cool cat Connie has got the school in the palm of her ...paw. She has so much sway over the other girls that they laugh at her mediocre jokes.
"Take your seats, students." "Where would you like us to take 'em teach?" !! Zing!!
You might as well call her Con Corleone. Because she's bossy. But unlike the Godfather, Connie may not make it past sweet sixteen.
These cats have claws and this is illustrated most dramatically by the angsty Dolly. She's got a glare and a brooding face that could burn a hole through a hot rod. When Connie suggests to Joyce that she could be her new number 2, it pleases Dolly none too much. Sure enough, Connie takes a long fall down a short staircase and it's more than a little likely that it was the jealous jezzacat, Dollface who did the assassinating.
Similar to The Violent Years (1956), Hellcats is about the SINsationalism of teenage girls gone haywire. But in The Violent Years, the girls pack heat and won't go down without a fight. The Hellcats aren't any tamer but they are more vulnerable.
"The joint's jumpin'," says Connie to her boy toy as they enter a house party. Jumpin' indeed! The house is hopping, the hunks are horny, the guys are grabby and the boys are bad. What I mean is that when the lights go out, the boys start gleefully molesting the girls as if it's just a gag. Still, the impression of sexual assault is pretty strong. I suppose we can brush it off as archaic antics and give the tired refrain, "it was a different time."
Not all the guys are predatory though. There's Joyce's new squeeze Mike and he's a semi-square soda jerk ...or is he a Diner dud ...or a malt-maker? I don't know what they called his profession back in the 50s, but he's a charming chap. He's got the hots for the Hellcat heroine and she thinks he's just swell.
Step inside the teenage terror dome. Just don't get fixed like a flunkie.
Joyce is a good girl. She's got enough class to fill a school. But her dear old dad is quick to lay down the law and he's occasionally slap happy. Mom, on the other hand is a bit more "psychological." That's the dad's word, not mine. The truth is that they both have their sensitive sides. Dad's is just a little stiffer.
When Joyce enters a new school, she encounters Connie and her Hellcats. Think the Pink Ladies from Grease (1978) only more switchblades. Right away, Connie gives Joyce the slacker test. I mean, the slacks test. You see wearing slacks is against the rules, but Joyce doesn't know that. If it sounds underwhelming, that's only because it is.
Cool cat Connie has got the school in the palm of her ...paw. She has so much sway over the other girls that they laugh at her mediocre jokes.
"Take your seats, students." "Where would you like us to take 'em teach?" !! Zing!!
You might as well call her Con Corleone. Because she's bossy. But unlike the Godfather, Connie may not make it past sweet sixteen.
These cats have claws and this is illustrated most dramatically by the angsty Dolly. She's got a glare and a brooding face that could burn a hole through a hot rod. When Connie suggests to Joyce that she could be her new number 2, it pleases Dolly none too much. Sure enough, Connie takes a long fall down a short staircase and it's more than a little likely that it was the jealous jezzacat, Dollface who did the assassinating.
Similar to The Violent Years (1956), Hellcats is about the SINsationalism of teenage girls gone haywire. But in The Violent Years, the girls pack heat and won't go down without a fight. The Hellcats aren't any tamer but they are more vulnerable.
"The joint's jumpin'," says Connie to her boy toy as they enter a house party. Jumpin' indeed! The house is hopping, the hunks are horny, the guys are grabby and the boys are bad. What I mean is that when the lights go out, the boys start gleefully molesting the girls as if it's just a gag. Still, the impression of sexual assault is pretty strong. I suppose we can brush it off as archaic antics and give the tired refrain, "it was a different time."
Not all the guys are predatory though. There's Joyce's new squeeze Mike and he's a semi-square soda jerk ...or is he a Diner dud ...or a malt-maker? I don't know what they called his profession back in the 50s, but he's a charming chap. He's got the hots for the Hellcat heroine and she thinks he's just swell.
Step inside the teenage terror dome. Just don't get fixed like a flunkie.
Joy Ride
(2001)
Fast and Fearious
7 July 2022
What we have here is something of a Duel (1971) meets Road Trip (2000) mashup emerging at the tail end of the teen/college horror era that started with Scream (1996). I suppose a more dignified take would be to call it Duel meets Breakdown (1997) but then there would be no accounting for the comedic shenanigans of butt naked diner visits and whathaveyou.
Lewis and Fuller are in over their heads when they decide to play a prank on a lonely longhauler. The prank leads to attempted murder of an unsuspecting racist who gets... well, let's just say the result is jaw dropping and perhaps karmic for the fact that if he survives, he won't be demanding that anymore brown skinned men speak English.
Walker and Zahn are basically playing the character types that Hollywood branded them with. You've got Paul Walker in all his khaki heart-throb glory and Zahn bringing his wide-eyed goofy demeanor to the show that almost ruins the horror of it all. Leelee Sobieski is relegated to damsel status and leading up to that, she is simply objectified as the camera admires her features. To be fair though, Zahn and Walker get similar treatment with their naked scene. It's hardly equal though as they are given more to do in this movie.
Stylistically, this thriller is confused. The grim atmosphere isn't interrupted by comedic relief so much as it is drowned out by it often. The writing is clever and intriguing enough that we can envision ourselves in this kind of scenario and that is about half of the scare. Unfortunately, the musical cues jolt you out of your chair and like the comedy, it's another element that is laid on too thick. Still, the saving grace is the voice of rig-revving Rusty Snail who is out for blood when our heroes punish him for being horny. His ominous presence as he toys with the blonde trio as well as the demolition action make this movie as entertaining as it can be.
Crack open the pink champagne and enjoy.
Lewis and Fuller are in over their heads when they decide to play a prank on a lonely longhauler. The prank leads to attempted murder of an unsuspecting racist who gets... well, let's just say the result is jaw dropping and perhaps karmic for the fact that if he survives, he won't be demanding that anymore brown skinned men speak English.
Walker and Zahn are basically playing the character types that Hollywood branded them with. You've got Paul Walker in all his khaki heart-throb glory and Zahn bringing his wide-eyed goofy demeanor to the show that almost ruins the horror of it all. Leelee Sobieski is relegated to damsel status and leading up to that, she is simply objectified as the camera admires her features. To be fair though, Zahn and Walker get similar treatment with their naked scene. It's hardly equal though as they are given more to do in this movie.
Stylistically, this thriller is confused. The grim atmosphere isn't interrupted by comedic relief so much as it is drowned out by it often. The writing is clever and intriguing enough that we can envision ourselves in this kind of scenario and that is about half of the scare. Unfortunately, the musical cues jolt you out of your chair and like the comedy, it's another element that is laid on too thick. Still, the saving grace is the voice of rig-revving Rusty Snail who is out for blood when our heroes punish him for being horny. His ominous presence as he toys with the blonde trio as well as the demolition action make this movie as entertaining as it can be.
Crack open the pink champagne and enjoy.
Man in the Attic
(1953)
Jack Attack!
1 July 2022
Warning: Spoilers
The fog in London town is frightful as two stiff constables patrol the cobblestomple streets and argue about each other's boots and regional origins. The first surprise of the film is the fact that the constable who professes to be from Yorkshire actually has a Yorkshire accent.
Jack Palance's Mr. Slade seeks lodging in a London residence with Mr. And Mrs. Harley. Palance's attempt at an English accent amounts to little more than his pronunciation of advert-is-mint. This is hardly a surprise for an actor who made his mark in American Westerns.
Accent aside, Palance has a soft-spoken charm here on par with the grifter he played opposite Joan Crawford in Sudden Fear (1952). Jack's Slade is meant to only give subtle winks to the audience when it comes to his potential identity as an infamous serial killer.
But there really is no mystery here. The clues are laid on thicker than clotted cream on a crumpet.
Actress Constance Smith plays actress Lily Bonner who finds herself in a tug-o-war between the two alpha males of the film. Inspector Warwick takes Lily on a date to his favorite murder museum and Slade is more than happy to be a creaky third wheel on their budding bicycle of love. Warwick can barely hide the bristle in his suave stache as he senses he's getting played by Slade. Who among us doesn't know the frustration of admiring the beauty of a noose or a death mask on a date only for some Snack Palance to butt in with his gaunt grimace?
This movie isn't exactly a known classic. That is perhaps because it's something of a missed opportunity. The shadowy and dank urban atmosphere is perfect for moody mystery and eerie tension, but it doesn't quite deliver. The camera work feels unsophisticated, even awkwardly experimental during the killer POV shots of the lady victims. Jack Palance is perfect for the role and he delivers the character's brewing jealousy as well as he reveals his deep-seated misogyny. Somehow though, it manages to be unmemorable. Even the horse and buggy chase in the finale can't quite give it the oomph it needs.
Jack Palance's Mr. Slade seeks lodging in a London residence with Mr. And Mrs. Harley. Palance's attempt at an English accent amounts to little more than his pronunciation of advert-is-mint. This is hardly a surprise for an actor who made his mark in American Westerns.
Accent aside, Palance has a soft-spoken charm here on par with the grifter he played opposite Joan Crawford in Sudden Fear (1952). Jack's Slade is meant to only give subtle winks to the audience when it comes to his potential identity as an infamous serial killer.
But there really is no mystery here. The clues are laid on thicker than clotted cream on a crumpet.
Actress Constance Smith plays actress Lily Bonner who finds herself in a tug-o-war between the two alpha males of the film. Inspector Warwick takes Lily on a date to his favorite murder museum and Slade is more than happy to be a creaky third wheel on their budding bicycle of love. Warwick can barely hide the bristle in his suave stache as he senses he's getting played by Slade. Who among us doesn't know the frustration of admiring the beauty of a noose or a death mask on a date only for some Snack Palance to butt in with his gaunt grimace?
This movie isn't exactly a known classic. That is perhaps because it's something of a missed opportunity. The shadowy and dank urban atmosphere is perfect for moody mystery and eerie tension, but it doesn't quite deliver. The camera work feels unsophisticated, even awkwardly experimental during the killer POV shots of the lady victims. Jack Palance is perfect for the role and he delivers the character's brewing jealousy as well as he reveals his deep-seated misogyny. Somehow though, it manages to be unmemorable. Even the horse and buggy chase in the finale can't quite give it the oomph it needs.
The Violent Years
(1956)
"It's the thrill of it that gets me!"
1 July 2022
The Violent Years has an immediate appeal before the opening title sequence even begins. Just read the synopsis. Who wouldn't be intrigued by the premise of a teenage girl gang wreaking havoc on decent folk?
The acting is hopelessly static and the editing is awkward. Honestly though, it adds to the camp factor and thus the draw. Such is the legacy of movies like this. They started as shock cautionary pieces and ended up as celluloid jokes with a certain nostalgic appeal. For the sake of perspective though, imagine in the decade of Howdy Doody, how awe-inducing it would have been to watch gals with guns shooting at police through broken windows. "Look at 'em jump! Just like rabbits!" Ahem, young lady, the proper mammalian insult for police is pig.
In this sensational tale of sinister skirts, the one-liners sizzle. Up-to-no-good protagonista and would-be class president Paula, pulls a fast one on her dear old dad with "This thing called juvenile delinquency could really help me if I knew how to stop it." Then we get lines that are as ambiguous as they are curious like,"Yeah, under conventional circumstances he could be very interesting." But I hope you're ready for the tit-for-tat one-upping in the verbal exchanges between characters. If you can't laugh at it, you'll be just another square who can't get hip to the repetitive quirks.
This obscure movie occupies a special space in a subgenre of American cinema between noir dames of the 40s and groovy chicks of the 60s. In the 50s, dirty rotten debutantes were on their way in. Thanks to the collective obsession with wayward teendom courtesy of James Dean, rebelles without a cause like these were part of the natural trend. Jean Moorhead is nearly a dead ringer for Betty Gilpin and she's almost as much a tour-de-force as Gilpin's resilient heroine in The Hunt (2020). Moorhead carries herself more like a lady gangster than a teenage rabble rouser. She is as classy as she is crassy. Her steely-eyed stare is perhaps the most memorable part of this forgetful movie. If you can make it through the long-winded preaching of the spectacled judge, give yourself a pat on the back. It is easily the most tedious and yawn-inducing part of this joint.
The acting is hopelessly static and the editing is awkward. Honestly though, it adds to the camp factor and thus the draw. Such is the legacy of movies like this. They started as shock cautionary pieces and ended up as celluloid jokes with a certain nostalgic appeal. For the sake of perspective though, imagine in the decade of Howdy Doody, how awe-inducing it would have been to watch gals with guns shooting at police through broken windows. "Look at 'em jump! Just like rabbits!" Ahem, young lady, the proper mammalian insult for police is pig.
In this sensational tale of sinister skirts, the one-liners sizzle. Up-to-no-good protagonista and would-be class president Paula, pulls a fast one on her dear old dad with "This thing called juvenile delinquency could really help me if I knew how to stop it." Then we get lines that are as ambiguous as they are curious like,"Yeah, under conventional circumstances he could be very interesting." But I hope you're ready for the tit-for-tat one-upping in the verbal exchanges between characters. If you can't laugh at it, you'll be just another square who can't get hip to the repetitive quirks.
This obscure movie occupies a special space in a subgenre of American cinema between noir dames of the 40s and groovy chicks of the 60s. In the 50s, dirty rotten debutantes were on their way in. Thanks to the collective obsession with wayward teendom courtesy of James Dean, rebelles without a cause like these were part of the natural trend. Jean Moorhead is nearly a dead ringer for Betty Gilpin and she's almost as much a tour-de-force as Gilpin's resilient heroine in The Hunt (2020). Moorhead carries herself more like a lady gangster than a teenage rabble rouser. She is as classy as she is crassy. Her steely-eyed stare is perhaps the most memorable part of this forgetful movie. If you can make it through the long-winded preaching of the spectacled judge, give yourself a pat on the back. It is easily the most tedious and yawn-inducing part of this joint.
Riot in Cell Block 11
(1954)
Cold Day in Cell
1 July 2022
Riot has a stuffy, yet warranted prologue followed by a much too brief introduction to the prison itself. Herein lies the movie's first flaw. We're not presented with a prison where the "screws" are power-hungry jerks or sadistic hotheads. It would be fair to assume as much. But viewers are human and human beings often hide their heads in the sands when confronted with the misdeeds of the establishment. Cinema is sometimes the only way to reach them. But the ugly truth can't be fully comprehended if examples of it is only referred to rather than shown. Ringleader Dunn shows visiting photographers the tools the guards beat the inmates with, but we don't see the guards abusing the inmates. As much as this movie has an admirable conscience, it could afford to reveal a bit more. Because it doesn't, we don't a great sense for what the stakes are. Tarantino called this the "best prison movie ever made." It's not a lofty rebuttal to say that he's wrong.
Riot has plenty of credibility though. You might expect that a film from this era, would present more moral absolutes. But this isn't a genre shock piece about the criminal class. There's no macho-minded suggestion that the convicts in this prison are snakes in a viper's den. The frailty of the inmate's experience is presented early as a prisoner wearily mutters, "momma" in his sleep. If John Wayne were in this movie, he'd simply refer to the inmates as lousy vermin and scoff at their grievances.
Flavor wise, characters like Crazy Mike and Dunn provide the kind of rugged rough N tumble grit of the black N white variety. There's even a "give it to me straight," for good measure. You could watch this movie blind and still identify the 50s noir-like atmosphere. The orchestral score has a heavy horn section and you can practically smell the whiskey on the breath of actor Neville Brand every time his toad vocals croak.
As far as social value, it is ultimately a less poignant predecessor to more shocking movies like Brubaker (1980). But it's notable for being progressive even by today's standards. In 1954, it may have even been called "liberal nonsense." Yet, even with the sensitive morality and ethical internal conflict between the prisoners, the machismo hasn't been compromised one bit.
Riot has plenty of credibility though. You might expect that a film from this era, would present more moral absolutes. But this isn't a genre shock piece about the criminal class. There's no macho-minded suggestion that the convicts in this prison are snakes in a viper's den. The frailty of the inmate's experience is presented early as a prisoner wearily mutters, "momma" in his sleep. If John Wayne were in this movie, he'd simply refer to the inmates as lousy vermin and scoff at their grievances.
Flavor wise, characters like Crazy Mike and Dunn provide the kind of rugged rough N tumble grit of the black N white variety. There's even a "give it to me straight," for good measure. You could watch this movie blind and still identify the 50s noir-like atmosphere. The orchestral score has a heavy horn section and you can practically smell the whiskey on the breath of actor Neville Brand every time his toad vocals croak.
As far as social value, it is ultimately a less poignant predecessor to more shocking movies like Brubaker (1980). But it's notable for being progressive even by today's standards. In 1954, it may have even been called "liberal nonsense." Yet, even with the sensitive morality and ethical internal conflict between the prisoners, the machismo hasn't been compromised one bit.
Deadbeat at Dawn
(1988)
Deadbeat-em-up at Dawn of the Dread
30 June 2022
Oh man! The second you see the way the dudes are decked out in the first gang rumble, you know you're in for some goofy-as-fudge fun! I mean, we've already been introduced to a villain who exudes sexual deviant scumduggery and now he's in a friggin cemetery with a Batman mask that doesn't resemble a single DC character in existence. WHAT is going on? It's like you've stumbled onto a wastoid re-enactment of Highlander and when you witness the hero Goose sterilizing his own war wounds after the fight, I dare you to NOT think of Andrew W. K.! Then the tattered and torn Goose wakes up to his GF reciting a witchy incantation and snorts his breakfast off a HUGE mirror and he shows his bare ass and...you know what, I apologize for the blow by blow. I've got to calm down. I just can't believe what I'm watching. Now he's practicing his nunchuckery in that same cemetery??? Are you Karate Kidding me? What did I do to deserve this beautiful mess?
Deadbeat at Dawn is unmistakably grindhouse. This is some scrappy cinema, people! The vibe is apathetic angst with a hearty dose of druggy despair. Witness blonde bully Bonecrusher spout some wisdom after taking a sniff of cocaine. "Man, that ain't nothing compared to the rush you get when you're killin' somebody, man! Know what I mean? I HATE people, man!" The sets are appropriately dilapidated and the characters are burnouts without a cause. So it's kinda punk, I hear you ask? Punk? Did punks wear jockstraps over their leather pants? Think metalhead meets Miller Lite, only it's an empty beer can that you think is full because some white trash loner just pissed in it.
The shock of it all will surely have you shaken. I mean, for crying out loud, our anti-hero finds his pulverized GF and gives her a funeral service in a trash compactor. Like I said, druggy despair. This tale of retribution and rage could have easily been retitled Snuff N Stuff.
Tune in, trip out and take a shower when you're done watching this ride of retribution and rage.
Deadbeat at Dawn is unmistakably grindhouse. This is some scrappy cinema, people! The vibe is apathetic angst with a hearty dose of druggy despair. Witness blonde bully Bonecrusher spout some wisdom after taking a sniff of cocaine. "Man, that ain't nothing compared to the rush you get when you're killin' somebody, man! Know what I mean? I HATE people, man!" The sets are appropriately dilapidated and the characters are burnouts without a cause. So it's kinda punk, I hear you ask? Punk? Did punks wear jockstraps over their leather pants? Think metalhead meets Miller Lite, only it's an empty beer can that you think is full because some white trash loner just pissed in it.
The shock of it all will surely have you shaken. I mean, for crying out loud, our anti-hero finds his pulverized GF and gives her a funeral service in a trash compactor. Like I said, druggy despair. This tale of retribution and rage could have easily been retitled Snuff N Stuff.
Tune in, trip out and take a shower when you're done watching this ride of retribution and rage.
Siege
(1983)
Canucksploitation Obscurity
30 June 2022
Siege (or Self-Defense) takes place during a historic period that you'd be forgiven for not remembering or even knowing about. Apparently, in 1981 the Nova Scotia police went on strike. As you can imagine, this kind of event serves as the basis for disorder and violence in this thriller. Sure enough, the urge to purge is real during one horrible Canadian night and its right-wing homophobes who have come out to play.
A gang of delinquent dumb dumbs enter a basement bar with the intent to bash and bully. No, these aren't the charming Proud Boys or even their more hardcore Hammerskin predecessors. These guys refer to themselves as New Order. They don't much resemble the synth-pop pioneers that emerged from the ashes of Joy Division, but oh well. During their bigoted boys night out, they call in their comrade specialist Cabe. This guy looks like he stepped out of a more sinister sci-fi mystery where he would never keep the company of such a hapless bunch. After arriving, he proceeds to execute all of the patrons and staff alike. The sole survivor escapes and takes shelter with a couple and their blind housemates, one of whom looks a lot like Finn Wolfhard. The New Orderlies proceed to lay siege to the apartment complex with military precision and the pieces are in place for a compelling game.
The Canuck creeps embody the all too familiar tropes of exploitation movie baddies in all their cackling glory. When one isn't digging into your soul with a thousand mile stare, another is letting out a high-pitched laugh that would make the Joker blush. Whether it's the tubby dead-eyed brute of the bunch or the reluctant pipsqueak tagalong, this is the kind of movie where we anxiously await how each of them will be dealt with. Unfortunately, the improvised nail-bomb launcher attached to a car battery is only good for one Canucklehead casualty. But don't worry, there's plenty more Home Alone meets Die Hard science experiments to go around.
If you're looking for entertaining exploitation with enough small surprises to keep you intrigued, this movie doesn't disappoint. Whether it's the appearance of a hunter's bow or awkward sound effects or ADR dialogue you certainly get what you tuned in for. If that's not enough to satisfy, this film is chockfull of one-liners.
"The h***-lovin' bastards got gas masks!" "Anyone who touches the doorknob downstairs is gonna die." There's even a "don't say we didn't warn ya!" No doubt that it could've been better, but it's more than acceptable for what it is. And if you don't like it, well, blame Canada.
A gang of delinquent dumb dumbs enter a basement bar with the intent to bash and bully. No, these aren't the charming Proud Boys or even their more hardcore Hammerskin predecessors. These guys refer to themselves as New Order. They don't much resemble the synth-pop pioneers that emerged from the ashes of Joy Division, but oh well. During their bigoted boys night out, they call in their comrade specialist Cabe. This guy looks like he stepped out of a more sinister sci-fi mystery where he would never keep the company of such a hapless bunch. After arriving, he proceeds to execute all of the patrons and staff alike. The sole survivor escapes and takes shelter with a couple and their blind housemates, one of whom looks a lot like Finn Wolfhard. The New Orderlies proceed to lay siege to the apartment complex with military precision and the pieces are in place for a compelling game.
The Canuck creeps embody the all too familiar tropes of exploitation movie baddies in all their cackling glory. When one isn't digging into your soul with a thousand mile stare, another is letting out a high-pitched laugh that would make the Joker blush. Whether it's the tubby dead-eyed brute of the bunch or the reluctant pipsqueak tagalong, this is the kind of movie where we anxiously await how each of them will be dealt with. Unfortunately, the improvised nail-bomb launcher attached to a car battery is only good for one Canucklehead casualty. But don't worry, there's plenty more Home Alone meets Die Hard science experiments to go around.
If you're looking for entertaining exploitation with enough small surprises to keep you intrigued, this movie doesn't disappoint. Whether it's the appearance of a hunter's bow or awkward sound effects or ADR dialogue you certainly get what you tuned in for. If that's not enough to satisfy, this film is chockfull of one-liners.
"The h***-lovin' bastards got gas masks!" "Anyone who touches the doorknob downstairs is gonna die." There's even a "don't say we didn't warn ya!" No doubt that it could've been better, but it's more than acceptable for what it is. And if you don't like it, well, blame Canada.
E.T.
(1982)
E.T. = Exceptionally Touching
30 June 2022
Life isn't easy for Elliot. His dad is south of the border. His brother's nerd squad relegates him to observer status during games of D&D. As if this weren't enough to contend with, he likely also has to endure constant questions from his peers. Something to the effect of, "Why is your sister's name Gerdie?" or "Are you the kid who set the frogs loose in Mr. Ford's class?" or "How do you feel about the Duffer Bros ripping off your story for the first season of Stranger Things?"
Elliot stumbles onto his alien friend with a load of speculative pretense. Is he a deformed elf, a leprechaun from the sewer, an alligator kid? Both of these would-be pals are hopelessly curious about the other, but the important thing is that they are both looking for someone to hold onto. E. T. Has found himself stranded on a new planet. Elliot is emotionally stranded in a suburb quite possibly in close proximity to the neighborhood from Poltergeist.
This classic film taught us some important life lessons. Reese's Pieces are the way to a new friend's heart. No home-made radar is complete without a Mr. Spell. Government agents are no match for kids on BMX bikes. As a kid, viewing E. T. presented a whole new perplexing world. I could not for the life of me understand this strange reality where the mother laughs when one of her kids accuses the other of ingesting male genitalia in his spare time. Whatever the case, E. T. is an exspecially endearing adventure. The score provided by John Williams is of course triumphant and magical, but the music accompanying the moments with the agents snooping around also creates an unsettling tension. It makes you nervously anticipate that this world of innocent budding friendship is about to be turned upside down. Still, it remains an entirely wholesome and heart-warming experience.
Elliot stumbles onto his alien friend with a load of speculative pretense. Is he a deformed elf, a leprechaun from the sewer, an alligator kid? Both of these would-be pals are hopelessly curious about the other, but the important thing is that they are both looking for someone to hold onto. E. T. Has found himself stranded on a new planet. Elliot is emotionally stranded in a suburb quite possibly in close proximity to the neighborhood from Poltergeist.
This classic film taught us some important life lessons. Reese's Pieces are the way to a new friend's heart. No home-made radar is complete without a Mr. Spell. Government agents are no match for kids on BMX bikes. As a kid, viewing E. T. presented a whole new perplexing world. I could not for the life of me understand this strange reality where the mother laughs when one of her kids accuses the other of ingesting male genitalia in his spare time. Whatever the case, E. T. is an exspecially endearing adventure. The score provided by John Williams is of course triumphant and magical, but the music accompanying the moments with the agents snooping around also creates an unsettling tension. It makes you nervously anticipate that this world of innocent budding friendship is about to be turned upside down. Still, it remains an entirely wholesome and heart-warming experience.
Road House
(1989)
The director's name is Rowdy!
30 June 2022
Some people, even those who claim to love and adore the classic that is Road House, don't understand one truism. Road House is a western! Yes, you read that correctly. Road House is a this-town-ain't-big-enough-for-the-two-of-us fable filtered through the lense of a Double Mint gum commercial. It's one of the few cinematic examples where the machismo of monster truck mayhem lives in harmony with the Swayze finesse of flawlessly coiffed mullets and neon 80s atmosphere. If you're wondering how you reconcile a love of country music, frequent bar brawls and kung fu fun with a Hitchcockian orchestral score, look no further than this movie. That's to say nothing of the homoerotic undertones, but let's get to the heart of it, shall we.
Road House takes place in a sort of parallel universe where the 80s is an era when bouncers are notorious and their renown spreads across state lines like lusty wild fire. Hell, it's easy to imagine that guys like Wade Garrett and his padawan Dalton have their own trading cards in this America. The vibe doesn't come across as wholly unique, but it is notable. If you've seen No Holds Barred, than you are familiar with the idealistic tone and soft-focus aesthetic.
Dalton moseys into a seemingly sleepy town where the Double Douce gives an impression that is more douchie than douce...y. What I mean is, you can't play cards in this joint without being hit by drunk shrapnel. For the uninitiated, that's the terminology for air-born broken glass during a bar fight. Dalton isn't phased though. He's come to tame this crusty stallion and the first order of business is to flick the fleas off of its once-noble back. That means, the horny hicks, the tricky cads and greasy goons have to hit the road. Unfortunately, it isn't as easy as all that and Dalton soon runs afoul of the town villain/oligarch. Despite all of his bouncer prowess, Dalton is dwarfed by the domineering reach of Boss Wesley. Actually his name is Brad Wesley. But it SHOULD be Boss Wesley. Like I said, this is a western. Wesley is a small man with a big influence. He doesn't need to be big and intimidating because his main man, and possibly live-in lover, Jimmy packs all the punch he would ever need. Witness the stare he gives Dalton when they first encounter each other in a hardware store. It's insane!
Road House is essential viewing if you're a fan of Swayze. The truth is that the late great actor had a quality almost as transcendent as this film. He was a flawless combination of masculinity and femininity. Grace and gusto! Sensitive but sensationally kick-ass. Next to Point Break, you won't find a better example of his legacy.
Road House takes place in a sort of parallel universe where the 80s is an era when bouncers are notorious and their renown spreads across state lines like lusty wild fire. Hell, it's easy to imagine that guys like Wade Garrett and his padawan Dalton have their own trading cards in this America. The vibe doesn't come across as wholly unique, but it is notable. If you've seen No Holds Barred, than you are familiar with the idealistic tone and soft-focus aesthetic.
Dalton moseys into a seemingly sleepy town where the Double Douce gives an impression that is more douchie than douce...y. What I mean is, you can't play cards in this joint without being hit by drunk shrapnel. For the uninitiated, that's the terminology for air-born broken glass during a bar fight. Dalton isn't phased though. He's come to tame this crusty stallion and the first order of business is to flick the fleas off of its once-noble back. That means, the horny hicks, the tricky cads and greasy goons have to hit the road. Unfortunately, it isn't as easy as all that and Dalton soon runs afoul of the town villain/oligarch. Despite all of his bouncer prowess, Dalton is dwarfed by the domineering reach of Boss Wesley. Actually his name is Brad Wesley. But it SHOULD be Boss Wesley. Like I said, this is a western. Wesley is a small man with a big influence. He doesn't need to be big and intimidating because his main man, and possibly live-in lover, Jimmy packs all the punch he would ever need. Witness the stare he gives Dalton when they first encounter each other in a hardware store. It's insane!
Road House is essential viewing if you're a fan of Swayze. The truth is that the late great actor had a quality almost as transcendent as this film. He was a flawless combination of masculinity and femininity. Grace and gusto! Sensitive but sensationally kick-ass. Next to Point Break, you won't find a better example of his legacy.
Rambo: Last Blood
(2019)
Rambudubdub Last Blood Bath
30 June 2022
Rambo may have said goodbye to the jungle (Rambo II) and the desert (Rambo III) and the humble life of a swamp boat guide (John Rambo), but the treachery and tragedy of those arenas are not done with him. Even returning to the good ole' US of Aaaaah to live out his retirement in the heartland can't serve as an escape from baddies that underestimate his talents. This new spread of amber whispy wheat is an idyllic picture of serenity. The only disappointing thing about this setting is that you just know Rambo would be able to make a kick-ass treehouse in the Redwoods and that feels like a missed opportunity.
Unfortunately, Farmer Bo's existential haystack is turned topsy turvy when his surrogate daughter is captured and killed by a gang of cartel cockroaches south of the border. The ghastly goons even emerge victorious against Rambo in game 1. Little do they know the game isn't over. NOTHING is over! Hell, this isn't even a best of 4 game series. All they can really take credit for is a lucky round. John R may be knocking on AARP's door, but he's nowhere close to pushing a walker.
From this point on, gore galore is what you have in store as Rambo lures his enemies back to his domain of demolition. You've heard of a house of horrors. Well, behold the compound of carnage, the tunnels of terror, the subterranean maze of submachine guns and Rambooby traps. Mayhem ensues as these bumbling bastards are rendered invalid with every wrong turn. The typical cartel footsoldier would be wise not to fool himself into thinking he could come close to capturing or even wounding baby boomer Rambo. No, if you're a drug dealer's drone, your only concern while you're down in Rambo's dungeon of doom is surviving until the end of that groovy Doors song ...that's assuming that your boss doesn't destroy the speaker in a fit of frustration. This third act action sequence is like a live action adaptation of whack-a-mole, where premature decapitation is something you'd pray for as a less painful demise. You can pretty much hear Shao Khan utter, "Fatality!" repeatedly.
If this is indeed the Last Blood, it leaves a lasting impression ...on your rib cage.
Unfortunately, Farmer Bo's existential haystack is turned topsy turvy when his surrogate daughter is captured and killed by a gang of cartel cockroaches south of the border. The ghastly goons even emerge victorious against Rambo in game 1. Little do they know the game isn't over. NOTHING is over! Hell, this isn't even a best of 4 game series. All they can really take credit for is a lucky round. John R may be knocking on AARP's door, but he's nowhere close to pushing a walker.
From this point on, gore galore is what you have in store as Rambo lures his enemies back to his domain of demolition. You've heard of a house of horrors. Well, behold the compound of carnage, the tunnels of terror, the subterranean maze of submachine guns and Rambooby traps. Mayhem ensues as these bumbling bastards are rendered invalid with every wrong turn. The typical cartel footsoldier would be wise not to fool himself into thinking he could come close to capturing or even wounding baby boomer Rambo. No, if you're a drug dealer's drone, your only concern while you're down in Rambo's dungeon of doom is surviving until the end of that groovy Doors song ...that's assuming that your boss doesn't destroy the speaker in a fit of frustration. This third act action sequence is like a live action adaptation of whack-a-mole, where premature decapitation is something you'd pray for as a less painful demise. You can pretty much hear Shao Khan utter, "Fatality!" repeatedly.
If this is indeed the Last Blood, it leaves a lasting impression ...on your rib cage.
Worthy episode with a needlessly sensational climax.
10 June 2022
Most episodes of SVU are masterfully and thoughtfully written. This one is no exception. Within minutes, you are emotionally invested in the plight of a young girl who is heartlessly kidnapped and pimped out. Then, comes the development that became almost cliche with SVU episodes during this era. Attention is shifted to a new yet related character and a new subject. Not so much a plot twist, but a plot turn. Now we are invested in the plight of a retired football star who is deteriorating mentally. For 95% of the episode, we have a well-written plot, only for it to devolve into another trope of so many SVU episodes - the tragic climax. Most of the episodes that have these feel warranted and realistic. This one however, feels tacked on, off color and out of left field. It's as if a producer had to put their mark on the screenwriter's draft before the principal shoot started because they thought the episode was "too tame." The words what are they trying to prove come to mind. Considering that this series has little to prove in the way of drama, authenticity or quality, that question is especially odd.
Annabelle Comes Home
(2019)
Unnabelle-evil-able Suburbanite-mare
14 April 2022
Warning: Spoilers
Annabelle starts promisingly. We get the sense early on that it won't simply be a rehash of previous films in the Conjurverse. Characters are present that we can sympathize with and the stage is set for thrills. Sure enough, the thrills arrive, but somehow it feels like the film hasn't really delivered.
Every movie has the "fun and games" portion. According to writer Blake Snyder, this is the part of the film where we forget plot and enjoy "set pieces" and "trailer moments" and revel in the entertainment value. When you get to the one hour mark of ACH, you may come to the realization that you've been caught in a sort of fun and games inertia and there's about twenty minutes to go before anything happens to actually advance the plot ...or up the stakes ...or add clarity to anything that remains unknown. Unfortunately, you may also arrive at the thought that this isn't fun anymore. You have become desensitized to the creepy specters. You're bored with the horror tropes. You're unaffected by the jump scares. But the good news is there is a saving grace. That charred-looking horned demon Valek gets the screen time he deserves. Finally something to really jolt you.
Ultimately, the film deserves credit for turning a non-descript, undynamic suburban house into a twisted den of horrors. Still, if you're looking for a film with more heart and soul and more scares, Annabelle: Creation is the one to seek out.
Every movie has the "fun and games" portion. According to writer Blake Snyder, this is the part of the film where we forget plot and enjoy "set pieces" and "trailer moments" and revel in the entertainment value. When you get to the one hour mark of ACH, you may come to the realization that you've been caught in a sort of fun and games inertia and there's about twenty minutes to go before anything happens to actually advance the plot ...or up the stakes ...or add clarity to anything that remains unknown. Unfortunately, you may also arrive at the thought that this isn't fun anymore. You have become desensitized to the creepy specters. You're bored with the horror tropes. You're unaffected by the jump scares. But the good news is there is a saving grace. That charred-looking horned demon Valek gets the screen time he deserves. Finally something to really jolt you.
Ultimately, the film deserves credit for turning a non-descript, undynamic suburban house into a twisted den of horrors. Still, if you're looking for a film with more heart and soul and more scares, Annabelle: Creation is the one to seek out.
Welcome Home
(I) (2018)
Shallow movie about shallow people
10 September 2021
This film really feels like it was either adapted from a $6 erotic novel or a long-shelved script for a TV thriller that a softcore director signed on for but ultimately rejected. It's like watching a feature-length commercial for a cologne called Infidelite. What we know about these characters by the half hour mark amounts to about as much as we would know about the models trying to sell you sex appeal in a gaudy ad.
Welcome Home is not without its moments that are both intriguing and unsettling. In many ways, it feels like a decent thriller by the time the third act commences. But here's the thing... have you ever been half an hour late for a movie? This is one that you could afford to arrive leisurely to. The director takes his time trying to convey the underwhelming reality of the relationship we see before us. These two lovers are sexy people who seek out the sexiest way to dine, drive, screw and fight about past transgressions. If by some chance they go the distance, they will find themselves in their 50s arguing about the price of plastic surgery and the savings account being squandered on a new convertible.
Aaron Paul is a worthy actor and frankly it's sad to see his abilities wasted on such a flat character. He seems to be fully aware of what he's doing though. It's like he knows that he's not supposed to be anything more than the shallow, fashionably disheveled rockstar wannabe who can't decide which suit jacket to wear over the shirt he found on the floor. His girlfriend is decent, tender and sincere, but the director has chosen to drop her in the familiar rut of eye candy who occasionally screams to signal an urgent plot twist. Unfortunately, the two other female roles in this film also echo the plight of many an actress searching for a thoughtful character in an industry plagued by superficially-written chicks.
Side note: I couldn't believe that the director of this did Joshua. If you're looking for more substance, seek that film out.
Welcome Home is not without its moments that are both intriguing and unsettling. In many ways, it feels like a decent thriller by the time the third act commences. But here's the thing... have you ever been half an hour late for a movie? This is one that you could afford to arrive leisurely to. The director takes his time trying to convey the underwhelming reality of the relationship we see before us. These two lovers are sexy people who seek out the sexiest way to dine, drive, screw and fight about past transgressions. If by some chance they go the distance, they will find themselves in their 50s arguing about the price of plastic surgery and the savings account being squandered on a new convertible.
Aaron Paul is a worthy actor and frankly it's sad to see his abilities wasted on such a flat character. He seems to be fully aware of what he's doing though. It's like he knows that he's not supposed to be anything more than the shallow, fashionably disheveled rockstar wannabe who can't decide which suit jacket to wear over the shirt he found on the floor. His girlfriend is decent, tender and sincere, but the director has chosen to drop her in the familiar rut of eye candy who occasionally screams to signal an urgent plot twist. Unfortunately, the two other female roles in this film also echo the plight of many an actress searching for a thoughtful character in an industry plagued by superficially-written chicks.
Side note: I couldn't believe that the director of this did Joshua. If you're looking for more substance, seek that film out.
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