David Cronenberg's The Fly

Howard Shore's score immediately sets the tone for The Fly, letting us know we are in store for a tragedy even before we've met any of the characters. It hits a string of dramatic highs that almost suggest that of an opera, not surprising since the director, David Cronenberg, and Shore adapted this movie into one years later. After the credits end, the movie wastes no time and sends us straight into the middle of a conversation between Seth Brundle (Jeff Goldblum, in a career defining performance), an ultra nerdy scientist, and Veronica Quaife (Geena Davis), a journalist for Particle Magazine. Much flirtation is involved, and Seth is finally able to convince Veronica to come back to his lab to see what he's been working on. What first seems like a bad pickup attempt quickly turns into the story of a lifetime. Seth has found a way to teleport inanimate objects; at least, that's all he's tried it on thus far.

Veronica is, naturally, astonished by what he's done, and begins to fall in love with Seth in the process. They have an effortless chemistry, one built on physical and mental attraction. For Veronica, the idea of doing a story on him has become replaced with a genuine interest in seeing his new invention prevail. But that will involve testing it with a living subject, or "flesh," to use a signature word of Cronenberg's. After a disastrous attempt and a few modifications, Seth makes a breakthrough that ends with him being the first human test subject. Due to a distraction based on jealously (Veronica is in a complicated situation with an ex-boyfriend), Seth fails to notice that a fly is in the teleportation pod with him.

At first, Seth feels miraculous. He can have sex for hours, his strength has increased significantly, and he'd probably be a shoo-in for the Olympic gymnastics team. But what to make of the endless sugar cravings, the tough hair growing on his back, and the change in his skin tone? It's easy to brush such things aside when you've made an epic scientific breakthrough and feel like a teenager again. Veronica notices the changes in the way Seth looks/acts, but her attempts to make him aware end in confrontation. He wants to believe that she's jealous of his discovery and the power it's brought him. He wants someone to share the rush of the experience with him, which Veronica refuses to do, especially when Seth starts to literally fall apart.

Seth's deterioration is shown in graphic detail. It has been speculated that The Fly, released in 1986, is a cautionary tale about AIDS, a theory Cronenberg has denied was intentional. Given Seth's physical state as the movie progresses, it makes perfect sense. Everything takes a complete turn for the worst for him, beginning with the skin and then leading to basic motor functions. His fusion with the fly has plagued him like a disease, and it's heartbreaking to watch Seth desperately try to find a way to scientifically save himself as he continues to come to pieces. As with his 1982 feature Videodrome, Cronenberg wants us to see the extreme consequences that arise when man feels the urge to become a part of their technological advances. What sets The Fly apart from that movie is the love story at its center.

There's an exciting urgency in the romance between Seth and Veronica. The flirtation and teasing that establishes their attraction soon builds into mutual respect and for Veronica, it goes a step further in seeing Seth get the attention he deserves for his creation. The test of unconditional love is taken to its fullest extent once Seth begins to change and Veronica has to decide how far she can go. A revelation late in the movie adds an extra complication that drives Seth further into madness. By the time he's almost fully transformed from man to fly, his obsession with becoming human again has caused him to consider acts that could jeopardize the one person who truly cares for him.

The breakdown of Seth's mental state and his internal/external body changes add to The Fly an interesting take on the aging process. It's a tribute to the complexity of Goldblum's performance that he is still able to convincingly show so much sadness despite being hidden under lots of makeup. Once he finally accepts that he is no longer fully human and, like aging, it is something out of control, the movie finds real sympathy in the midst of the grotesque. There are a number of truly shocking sights in the movie, most of which are drawn out of the "fly" side of Seth's being, and what's surprising is how he is able to do his best to treat this misfortune as something he can adapt to (look at how he documents his method of eating once his digestive system has changed). Even as his world comes crashing down, it's still all about science, as witnessed by how Seth saves all the body parts he loses.

It's astonishing to me that The Fly was a big summer studio release. Unlike most crowd pleasing blockbusters, Cronenberg's movie, despite its high caliber special effects, is grim and features a conclusion that is undeniably heart shattering. The movie stunningly pulls off the remarkable feat of getting us emotionally connected to the fully transformed Seth, who is no longer a man (in appearance, at least, as the tortured soul of the man still exists within) by the end of the picture. The final moment is devastating, made so due to the fantastic performances by the two leads and Cronenberg's dedication to play this material without a hint of irony. No one can devastate us like he can (just look at Dead Ringers if you still don't believe me). How fascinating it is that his ultimate masterwork also turned out to be his most commercial.


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(c) Hell and Beyond, 2014

David Lynch's Eraserhead

The 1970s is the greatest decade in American film, not just because the movies started taking more chances, but more so due to the effect the Vietnam War had on the country. Our whole mindset changed; gone were the days of innocence and the urge for a white picket fence and a shiny new Buick. Gone were the days of Flower Power and America as a land of endless opportunity. People started to question things, like gender roles, race relations, and the necessity to get married and have children. It was like a new world, this homeland of ours, and a crop of budding filmmakers were ready to tackle the shifting tide like never before. All genres got involved, none quite as subversively though, as the horror movie. Since they often play without rules, it gave the filmmakers more room to let their imaginations run amok.

Arguably the first horror picture to really challenge us with societal issues was George Romero's Night of the Living Dead. From there, a hefty crop of movies followed suit, each one dialing its extremities up to 11. Just look at The Exorcist, which was supposedly responsible for causing pregnant women to miscarry! Or The Texas Chain Saw Massacre, with its documentary style that makes us feel as if the demented family at its center could be living right next door. Scary stuff, to be sure, and even if these movies were not direct influences, they helped pave the way for David Lynch's first feature, Eraserhead.

Having just given Eraserhead a fresh look, I don't think it would be out of place on a double bill with Texas Chain Saw. Both movies, in their own way, are savage critiques of the American family unit, post-Vietnam. But while Tobe Hooper's movie focuses more on the ritual side (every one playing their role, family meals), Lynch's is about the terror of realizing that you have a family and are stuck with them. You might as well even say that the title character, named Henry (Jack Nance), has just returned from war. An early scene shows him walking home with a grocery bag, the landscape around him desolate and ugly (often the visual style used to project moral deadness). Once he arrives back at his tiny apartment, a neighbor tells him that a woman named Mary (Charlotte Stewart) has invited him to dinner. When Henry gets to Mary's house, he complains that she hasn't come around in a while (they've been apart, much like when a soldier has been overseas).

What follows is the terrifying moment where Henry is forced to meet his future in-laws, complete with a chicken dinner that has to be seen to be believed (like Texas Chain Saw, there could be a strong anti-meat message going on here). Not long after, Henry learns that Mary's had a baby (prematurely) and that he must marry her. Before he can blink, Henry's one room apartment just got a little smaller thanks to his new wife and baby. The pressures of responsibility and duty (you're a grown man, so it's time for you to get married and have a family of your own!) has invaded Henry's life, not to mention his vacation from work. We see the irritation that grows from sharing a bed with someone when you're used to sleeping alone, plus the intrusion on sleep thanks to a constantly crying baby. Henry is obviously ill equipped to take care of his child (which looks like a sick animal). He takes its temperature, and after coming to the realization something really is wrong, he has no idea how to handle it.

When you describe the set up of Eraserhead, it sounds like elements of a bad romantic comedy. What sets it apart, of course, is the fact it was made by David Lynch, whose movies excel at peeling the nightmarish layers off of American life. He presents his subjects with a mixture of heightened melodrama, bizarre comedy, and mind blowing (and occasionally numbing) visuals. The sights in Eraserhead are some of his most disturbing and mystifying. Look, for instance, at the recurring sexual imagery, all of which is displayed in the least erotic or appealing way. Most of it resembles sperm, and varies in size (the seeds get bigger as the movie progresses, almost as if they might eventually ingest Henry). Lynch tries to make anything sexual in the movie look as grotesque as possible, beginning with a strange shot of what can be presumed as the pregnancy occurring (set in motion by a man pulling a lever...God?) and later in a dream sequence that could be interpreted as Henry performing an abortion on Mary.

Henry is almost constantly in what appears to be a dream state. His greatest escape from responsibility involves a puffy cheeked woman who dances in his heater and at one point, violently stomps on sperm that have fallen from the sky (Is she a guardian angel? There are other hints that suggest the answer could be yes). Most of Henry's fantasies contain destruction of sperm and worse, the image of his head replaced with that of his deformed child. It's a literal removal, with his severed head being stolen and used as a tool to delete an act of creation. Scenes like this show Eraserhead to be a deeply personal movie, the work of a man who used art as a way to grapple with his own inner demons.

It's the personal nature of Lynch's images that often make them so difficult to decipher. This is not a weakness; if anything, it proves Lynch to be one of our most gifted filmmakers, since he is able to so vividly let us run loose inside of his head, even if it means we may not like or understand what we see. I believe there is a meaning to it all, even if I can't always figure out what is and he won't tell me. Like an actual dream, sometimes you're freaked out and you don't know why, and that's makes it all the scarier. Eraserhead is one of Lynch's best movies, stunningly made from a technical standpoint (the lighting design is almost a character by itself) and constantly absorbing to the eyes. Like any great horror movie, it thrives on deep human fears (marriage, parenting, infidelity), and does so as we had not seen then, and rarely do now. It's refreshingly unapologetic and existentially terrifying.


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Stuart Gordon's Dolls

Director Stuart Gordon followed up his batshit crazy H.P. Lovecraft adaptations, Re-Animator and From Beyond, with Dolls, a deceptively simple but delightfully twisted haunted house movie that may seem out of place with the rest of his work (you can tell it was a director-for-hire job), but is still hard to ignore. If it lacks the psycho sexual elements and crazy gore of his earlier two features, it all but makes up for it in chilling atmosphere and demented looking toys. Gordon's touch is undeniably there, as we see early on during a strange sequence involving a giant teddy bear that sheds its fluffy shell to reveal a ravenous beast underneath.

The setup is as threadbare as it gets. Unpleasant couple David (Ian Patrick Williams) and Rosemary (Carolyn Purdy-Gordon, Stuart's wife) are on vacation with his young daughter, Judy (Carrie Lorraine), when their car gets stuck in front of an old mansion. Evil stepmother Rosemary complains about the kid being there, even throwing Judy's beloved teddy bear in the woods as they begin to trek through the pouring rain to shelter. Once inside the house, they are welcomed by the owners, Gabriel (Guy Rolfe) and Hilary (Hilary Mason), a strangely cheerful elderly couple who also happen to be doll makers and believe in the concept of always being a child at heart. Also joining the party is clueless drifter Ralph (Stephen Lee) and two punk rock hitchhikers (Bunty Bailey and Cassie Stuart) he picked up.

Once everyone's been shown to their rooms, Dolls really gets moving. The start of it has a nice slow build as the dimly lit hallways of the mansion are established, complete with Gabriel's creepy-as-hell dolls peering out of the darkness in every room. That feeling the eyes are following you is brought to literal life here and naturally, Judy is the first one to notice the dolls are alive. No one believes her, even after the adults start getting attacked. The violence in the movie is surprisingly effective given the absurd fact it involves toys. My personal favorite kill involves a firing squad, while I was also disturbed when a character is ambushed by a horde of angry dolls coming from all directions.

SPOILER

What stands out most about Dolls is its message about the punishment dished out to those who have grown up and lost their sense of adventure and imagination. We know Judy will be safe since she's a child, but the adults who mock her are killed and then turned into dolls themselves! This is shown in graphic detail when a character smashes a doll's face and beneath the porcelain lies a zombified skeleton. Even more bizarre is a scene where a character's already transformed face loses its eyes and they struggle to retrieve them from a pool of blood on the floor.

SPOILER END

Thanks to Gordon and the efficiently witty script by Ed Naha, Dolls is a little more ambitious than the usual low budget horror offering. It would also be the beginning of producer Charles Band's obsession with evil playthings (he later released Puppet Master and Demonic Toys, to name a few). I like some of the other movies he's made in this genre, but none of them share the old school location of this one, with its creaky doors and narrow corridors. There's also something lovely about the stop motion effects by the late David Allen, who gives the dolls somewhat jerky movements that add another level of menace to go with their already ominous faces.

The real stars of Dolls, though, are Guy Rolfe (who later starred in a few of the Puppet Master movies) and Hilary Mason (the blind psychic in Don't Look Now). Pulling off sincerity with a hint of cynicism is not an easy thing to do, yet these two achieve it effortlessly, even when it comes time for them to let on what's really happening in their house. I also liked the friendship that develops between Judy and Ralph. He's the only adult who hasn't lost his childhood spirit, and he's played by Stephen Lee with a terrific knack for physical comedy.

Dolls might not be Stuart Gordon's best film, but it is a welcome addition to his filmography. I had not seen the movie since my early teenage years, so I was expecting to enjoy it for nostalgia purposes at best. Imagine how pleased I am to say that the movie still works quite well on its own terms. Good horror movies are rare, and entertaining ones, especially in a genre like this, are even rarer. Dolls fills its quota on both counts, and at a brisk 77 minutes, it doesn't run the risk of wearing out its welcome. Given how often horror movies let us down, the fact that this one actually gives us what we pay for is somewhat of a blessing.


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(c)Hell and Beyond, 2014

Christopher Nolan's Interstellar

SPOILERS THROUGHOUT


I can't think of another big budget filmmaker out there as ambitious, in visuals and in subject matter, as Christopher Nolan. His detractors spend their time poking holes in the movie's plot or criticizing how accurate certain details are, completely overlooking the bigger picture. Nolan likes to grapple with intense subjects, often from too many angles, but there's a passion in his work that proves that plot points are not always the most important pieces of the cinematic puzzle. Even in his low budget early features, Following and Memento, there was already evident a sense that this guy had much grander projects in store. He wants to take us places we haven't gone before, and if we have, he's going to ensure we experience it in a way that is fresh and new.

Nolan's latest movie, Interstellar, does just that. It introduces elements we are familiar with in the movies, and manages to bring them to life with an enhanced level of human interest and wonder. As is often the case, Nolan and his writing partner (and brother), Jonathan Nolan, have so much they want to share with us that the screenplay gets overstuffed. But I'll get back to that later. First, I want to focus on what really worked for me about this movie. Fascinatingly, Interstellar opens in the future, but we'd never expect that since the world looks precisely as it does today. Mankind is on the verge of extinction, although instead of conveying that through post-apocalyptic visuals (the closest thing we get are dust storms), Nolan keeps it simple and feeds us tidbits of information through dialogue. Instead of showing global suffering, the movie keeps things intimate and focuses on one family.

Cooper (Matthew McConaughey) is, like many others, a corn farmer, as all other crops are extinct. He's a widower raising two children, Tom (Timothée Chalamet) and Murph (Mackenzie Foy). His deeper bond is with Murph, as she shares his love for science. It is this love that leads her to discover a code that gives the coordinates to NASA, who is now hiding underground and has a proposition for Cooper. With life on Earth dwindling away, mankind is going to have re-populate elsewhere, and several potential planets have been found. NASA needs Cooper to fly a shuttle through a wormhole and visit each one to see which will be inhabitable. The catch, of course, is that he'll have to leave his family and perhaps never see them again.

This within itself would already be an intriguing set up for a movie, but Interstellar takes things up a notch by adding the complication that after going through the worm hole, and when landing on the other planets, time will move at a slower speed than that on Earth (an hour in space can amount to years on Earth). This aspect, for me, is the heart of the movie, since we know that the mission is not going to run as smoothly as it should and Cooper will have to face the fact his kids will be older than him if he makes it back. It doesn't help that Murph is so angry with him for leaving her behind that they part ways on bad terms, something that Cooper always regrets. There's a gut wrenching scene late in the picture where he is able to relive their last conversation, and he watches with horror as he makes the decision to walk away from his daughter again.

At its best, Interstellar is a movie about dealing with loss, regret, aging, and even more specifically, your children aging faster than you. There's a great deal of pain built into the scenes where Cooper and his second in command, Brand (Anne Hathaway), watch videos sent by their loved ones, the space between them seemingly infinite. Never before has the gap between the viewer and their tiny screen felt as vast as it does in these moments, especially when Cooper receives the first transmission from Murph as an adult (played by Jessica Chastain). At its core, this is a movie about the power of love, about how it transcends time and space. Sound ridiculous? It is, but Nolan directs it with such conviction, and his cast is so achingly committed, that the feelings displayed through visuals and performance feel completely real. It doesn't hurt that Hans Zimmer's score adds an extra (and welcome) level of melancholy.

If only Nolan had kept his focus on that. He and Jonathan are good writers, but as their projects have grown, they tend to throw too many elements into the pot, and with that comes an often exhausting amount of exposition. This was first apparent in Inception, which told so much when it would have been more beneficial to show us instead. This time out, there are scenes filled with talks of physics and relativity and worm holes that get so detailed that I needed a rewind button to make sense out of it. And why have so much scientific explanation anyway? It just feels like an excuse for Nolan to beat us over the head with how much research he did and to make sure the purists in the audience won't call a foul.

One of the big surprises of the movie is the subtlety of the visual style. The full scope of being in space is realized, to be sure, but instead of going all out on dazzling special effects in every sequence, Nolan keeps the big stuff under wraps until the last third. Until then, most of the scenes are kept in the confined quarters of the shuttle, as if we're supposed to be enveloped in the worries and loneliness of the characters and forget that nothingness surrounds them. It gets under the skin as the movie progresses, making us grateful once Cooper and his team finally do find land. Even here, Nolan holds back. The first planet is covered in water, the second, with ice.

Cooper finds a ship already on the ice planet, complete with a survivor sleeping inside. His is one of several red herrings revealed to show the desperation of self survival and the way authority figures lie to us when they don't really have a solution. The confrontation on the ice planet is one of the clunkier segments in the movie, nice to look at it but heavy handed in execution. Nolan has already made his point about man's need to save himself, so the sequence feels unnecessary. Much more rewarding is the climax once Cooper passes through another worm hole and is able to revisit moments of his past with Murph.

The movie's final section proves that it holds more value as a human drama than a science fiction movie. I say this because Nolan doesn't seem interested in explaining or exploring the how's and why's of the new planet where humanity has started over. We just get brief glimpses of it, with some of the visual ideas taken straight from Nolan's own Inception. There's real tenderness, however, in the still youthful looking Cooper reuniting with Murph, now an old woman on her deathbed. Seeing each other again is a gift, one that Cooper was willing to risk in order to ensure she and her future generations would be able to continue to thrive. It's the most lovely and emotional moment of Nolan's career thus far, earned due to the strength he builds in the bond between this father and daughter.

So how does one sum up Interstellar, a movie that wants to have its cake and eat it several times over? Even if it lacks the overall impact of Nolan's best movies (The Dark Knight trilogy, Memento), it shares with them a true understanding of human nature, our constant struggle between doing what's right and doing what's best (and if they're the same thing). Men are always at odds with themselves in the worlds Nolan creates, and with each new movie, he finds ways to challenge and frustrate us like no other filmmaker around. Even if his movies rarely hit it completely out of the park for me, I feel lucky to have him. Interstellar, warts and all, joins a long list of movies in 2014 that have reached further than most movies dare. I can't wait to see it again.


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(c) 2014, Hell and Beyond

Alejandro González Iñárritu's Birdman or (The Unexpected Virtue of Ignorance)

Michael Keaton gets his first starring role in many a moon playing Riggan Thomas, a 60-year-old has been actor whose glory days peaked twenty years before, thanks to an action movie franchise known as Birdman. Since that's all he's ever been known for, Riggan decides it's time to make a desperate (and costly) attempt to show himself as not only a serious actor, but also as a writer and director. He's staging a play based on a short story by Raymond Carver (who inspired him to become an actor), and Alejandro González Iñárritu's film is about his attempt to pull it off. Subtlety has never been Iñárritu's strong suit, which he proves again here, although he does hit some grace notes along the way.

Most of the movie takes place backstage at the theater, structured in a way for us to experience all the pressure and suffocation that Riggan and his fellow cast members go through as they prepare for the period from preview show to opening night. All the archetypes are covered: the pompous leading man (Edward Norton), the insecure actress (Naomi Watts), the actress Riggan is sleeping with (Andrea Riseborough), Riggan's fucked up daughter (Emma Stone), and of course, his long suffering yet sympathetic wife (Amy Ryan). I found most of the performances engrossing; the weak link is Zach Galifianakis, type cast as Riggan's nutty lawyer and best friend. But the others keep the movie afloat, especially Keaton, Norton, and Stone, who manages to breathe some depth and history into her stock character.

The screenplay is painfully overwritten. The characters criticize each other, lecture each other, and support each other in a series of speeches that try to make it very, very clear what the meaning of it all is, in case for some reason we missed it the first few times. One of the most cringe inducing moments comes when Riggan's daughter goes on a long rant about how nobody is important, followed closely by a run in Riggan has with a stuffy theater critic (Lindsay Duncan). Because it's all about self sacrifice and showing the world you still matter! Get it? And criticism exists to humiliate people who are out there trying to bear their souls! Get it? Oh yeah, I got it. Iñárritu makes certain I will not forget.

SPOILER ALERT

Cinematographer Emmanuel Lubezki does a splendid job capturing the need to escape the narrow halls of backstage theater, and what a relief it is finally be on stage, where a whole new type of fear awaits. There are moments where Birdman or (The Unexpected Virtue of Ignorance) is able to nicely convey these hardships as well, such as when a preview show is ruined by a drunken outburst, or when a couple making out above the stage transitions down into a live performance. I even was grateful for some of the quieter moments, like late in the picture when Riggan makes a confession to his ex-wife about the night he cheated on her or Norton's leading man trying to size up Riggan's daughter on the theater rooftop. But for every two of these, there are a half dozen more that force feed the nature of things to us. Even the shooting style, which is supposed to make the movie feel like one uninterrupted take, eventually wears thin, to the point we realize that by taking away the stylistic approach, you wouldn't be left with much.

As the events leading to opening night continue to spiral out of control, so does Riggan, and Iñárritu, who has tried to add touches of surrealism throughout, lets the fireworks fly during the final third. So, where the first two thirds of the movie beats everything into our heads through dialogue, the last part tries to make sure we understand what all the voices in Riggan's head have really stood for. It feels like a cheap thrill, a lackluster attempt for a filmmaker out of his element to show us how creative he can be. By that point, though, he'd already lost me, so by the time the movie reaches its inevitable conclusion, there's no sense of wonder left. Keaton is so good here, and the potential of this role is so rich that it's a shame to see it wasted on a bunch of overblown observations about being washed up. What could have been profound ended up, for me, as a series of shrugs.


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(c) Hell and Beyond, 2014

Anthony Russo and Joe Russo's Captain America: The Winter Soldier

SPOILERS THROUGHOUT


Up until seeing Captain America: The Winter Soldier, I think my favorite entry in the Marvel Avengers series probably was the previous Captain America movie, titled The First Avenger. There was something kind of poignant about seeing the hero lose his innocence in service of his country, since all he ever wanted was to be a soldier. The fact he was scientifically turned into the perfect soldier, modified to keep his country safe and inspire hope, made it all the more effective. It didn't hurt that it was exciting too.

What fascinates most about The Winter Soldier is how our hero, Steve Rogers (Chris Evans), loses his innocence again, this time because he has awakened in a time unfamiliar, where keeping the country safe is achieved through means foreign to him. Trust is created through fear and conspiracies cooked up by the very people we elect to protect us, making The Winter Soldier a throwback to the paranoia thrillers of the '70s (complete with the deliciously savvy stunt casting of Robert Redford as a key player).

I was rather taken aback by how seriously the movie treats this material, given this is about a Marvel superhero. And I was also surprised how deeply it explores Rogers' struggle to adapt to this new era and quietly mourn the one he left behind. One of the movie's best scenes involves his visit to a Smithsonian exhibit about him. There's subtle sadness in his face as he looks at the uniforms on display and then watches old news reel footage of he and his fellow soldiers going off to battle. Even greater is a visit to his former sweetheart (Hayley Atwell), now on her death bed, regretting the life she and Rogers never got to share.

Rogers' biggest conflict this time out is with another soldier (called The Winter Soldier), this one enhanced with modern technology, so he's virtually unstoppable. This new soldier also happens to be from the past, and was Rogers' best friend, Bucky Barnes (Sebastian Stan). He's responsible for making sure Rogers doesn't foil a master plan to kill millions of Americans, which becomes complicated of course once our hero discovers who this mysterious soldier is standing in his way. There's real weight to their scenes together, particularly during the movie's climax.

The action scenes were fun in The First Avenger, but some of the ones here are a vast improvement. An ambush/car chase involving Nick Fury (Samuel L. Jackson) is well staged, and a highway attack by the Winter Soldier proves to be riveting and tense. Others, however, are too cartoonish and distract, such as when Rogers takes down an aircraft with his shield. And therein lies one of the reasons why The Winter Soldier, and probably any Marvel movie for that matter, will always be held back from being a truly great movie. Rogers is presented as a flesh and blood character here, with real struggles and emotions, so why cheapen that by trying too hard to make him into a superhero? It's as if the producers feel they have an obligation to please their fan base by having Captain America leap through the air and perform dynamic tricks. That is the point where we stop being able to identify with him and he becomes nothing more than an action figure.

Since this is a Marvel movie, the screenplay is also required to fill its quota of having at least one scene that ties it in with the rest of the Marvel universe. So, every once in a while, The Winter Soldier comes to a screeching halt to give the audience a lot of mind numbing exposition that only a certain fan base will care anything about. They're trying to have their cake and eat it too, but isn't that what the post credits teasers are for? After the second or third big speech, the movie risks shutting us out.

Thankfully, there's enough to chew on in The Winter Soldier to keep these detours from doing too much damage (and thanks to home viewing, I can fast forward through the filler). Evans is in good form once again, likable and confident in the lead role. Scarlett Johansson, probably the finest young actress working right now, gives her character, Natasha Romanoff, purpose and conviction. And Anthony Mackie proves to be a nice addition as a war veteran who comes to Rogers' aid when the shit hits the fan.

The truly great movie in this Avengers universe has yet to be made, one that will please both the average viewer and the Marvel fan without alienating one side. The Winter Soldier is the biggest step in the right direction so far, a thrilling and occasionally challenging action spectacular that dares to go places not often seen in this genre. This is my favorite character series, and if the post credits cliffhanger is any indication, the future entries have nowhere to go but up.


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(c)Hell and Beyond, 2014

Indie Memphis Film Festival, Days 2, 3, and 4: From Wild Canaries to Hoop Dreams

Relationship malfunction and murder mystery collide in Lawrence Michael Levine's often hilarious Wild Canaries, the story of a Brooklyn couple, played by Levine and his real life wife, Sophia Takal, who become amateur sleuths when their elderly neighbor turns up dead. The diagnosis is a heart attack, but the unemployed Barri (Takal) is unconvinced. It almost feels like her curiosity is a much needed replacement from her and Noah's (Levine) constant bickering, which of course becomes worse once she convinces him to join her wacky investigation. The movie is at its best when they're at each other's throats over the most trivial of things, though it doesn't hurt that they're matched by a stellar supporting cast (Arrested Development's Alia Shawkat as their roommate, Jason Ritter as their pot smoking, gambling landlord). The plot gets rather complicated, but the screwball antics and the chemistry between Levine and Takal are well worth the time. I hope to see them onscreen more together in the near future.






What a thrill it was to see two of my favorite John Carpenter movies, They Live and Halloween, back-to-back and on the big screen for the first time! This was probably my seventh or eighth time to see They Live, and I'm still amazed by the impact of its punch. What a huge gamble it was to not only cast a wrestler in the lead role (Roddy Piper), but also to throw everything at the audience with absolutely zero subtlety. But that's the point, right? That's what advertising and our government do everyday, so why should the movie cut us a break when satirizing it? The one liners still pop, the make up effects are still eerie, and the legendary fight scene is still a gas. Time truly has been good to They Live. The most exciting part about seeing Halloween was being envious of those who were experiencing it for the first time. Their gasps, jumps, and comments to the screen made me nostalgic and a bit jealous. I've always loved Halloween, but seeing it in the theater made me appreciate it even more. Not just for its craft, but also for how effective and efficient it is.





Dan Riesser makes his feature debut with Stomping Ground, an ambitious but forgettable story in which country girl Annie (Tarah DeSpain) takes her uppity big city boyfriend Ben (John Bobek) from Chicago to North Carolina for Thanksgiving. As expected, he has a bit of culture shock, first from discovering what a wild party animal Annie was in high school and later, learning that she used to hunt. But the real kicker comes when Annie and her old flame Paul (Jeramy Blackford) reveal they used to go deep into the woods searching for Bigfoot. Ben is an extreme skeptic that any such thing could exist, leading to a dick wagging contest between him and Paul, who still has the major hots for Annie. The city vs. country barrier begins to threaten Ben and Annie's relationship when it is decided they will join Paul and Hank (Joseph Allen Cavin) on a Bigfoot hunt. The expected tension unfolds, not just in the triangle between Annie, Ben, and Paul, but also when strange noises from the woods make them wonder if someone or something is following them. Riesser creates a chilling atmosphere for the collectively excellent cast, but sadly, they're saddled in roles that don't give them much to do that we haven't seen before. I had the pleasure of chatting with Riesser during the festival, and found him smart and very engaging, so I am quite anxious to see his career progress. He shows promise here as a director, but needs a screenplay with characters as interesting as he is.





After being approached by Mark Landis the night before I saw his movie Art and Craft, my level of intrigue shot up exponentially. I told him I was planning to see it, to which he responded with a hand shake and a "God bless you," before moving on to the next person. His confidence is admirable, and it's the aspect of Art and Craft that most fascinates. The movie is a documentary about Landis, a Mississippian who, for around thirty years, has been forging works of art and donating them to museums, often with a story attached. To the surprise of Cincinnati registrar Matthew Leininger, who stumbled upon what Landis was doing, it was never about money. To hear it from Landis, a schizophrenic, his art replication and donation are acts of philanthropy. Once uncovered, it became a tug of war between Landis, who is obsessed with recreating existing works, and Leininger, who believes he has a responsibility to put a stop to it. Despite the fact that so many people encourage Landis to create his own art as it is obvious he has talent (given how seamless his replicas are), that's not where his obsession lies. What's most effective and lasting about Art and Craft is how it creates the portrait of a man whose actions began out of loneliness, a sad truth revealed when it's realized that the one original drawing Landis has is of his late mother.





I first saw Michael Lehmann's Heathers in the winter of 1989, and it left me completely shell shocked. Over the past 25 years, I've seen it more than a dozen times (mostly due to my obsession with it as a teenager), and thankfully, it's one of those movies that hasn't withered with age. Aspects of it are dated, to be sure (those clothes!), but the themes resonate with a fury that has never been matched. Watching Heathers on the big screen for the first time was a joy, not just to further soak in all the memorable lines and moments, but also to further recognize why it is one of the sharpest and best satires ever made (not to mention the most brutally honest high school movie I've ever seen). Daniel Waters's script takes no prisoners in its depiction of the dangers of cliques and the constant pressure put on students by teachers, parents, and worst, each other. High school is all about fitting in, something Heathers explores in a fashion that makes The Breakfast Club, a movie I loved growing up and still love, look like an after school special. The crowd at the screening varied widely in age, an indication of the movie's power. I look forward to watching it another dozen times over the next 25 years.





I didn't remember a lot about Hoop Dreams, since I'd only seen the movie once, and it was around the time of its release in 1994. Like so many, I was anxious to see it due to the praise from Siskel & Ebert, who championed the movie in a way that was rarely witnessed. I responded very strongly to it, but like so many great movies, it slipped through the cracks and I forgot about it until it was announced that Indie Memphis was hosting a 20th anniversary screening, complete with a Q&A with the movie's stars and one of the producers. I'm glad to have some years between my viewings of Hoop Dreams; even though I recall liking it, I don't think I was mature enough to truly appreciate it the first time out. And having William Gates and Arthur Agee, the two young men the movie follows, here to discuss the last 20 years of their lives, only enhanced the experience. This is one of the most intimate and compelling documentaries ever made, a movie that richly chronicles the entire high school careers of two teenage kids from the inner city with big dreams of being NBA players. By covering such a large period of time, we become involved in the lives of not just them, but their families too. By the end of the almost three hour run time, we care about every person we've met and by that point, whether or not William and Arthur play pro basketball isn't even the biggest concern anymore. Instead, it's the well being of everyone in each of these families, as we've seen how so many decisions, good and bad, have affected them. This is a beautiful and inspiring movie, one that I have seen few like and doubt I will again, and having the chance to hear these two boys, now men, talk about what happened after the movie ends was at once rewarding and delightful. I doubt I'll ever have another film festival experience like it and for that, I am eternally grateful.


Thank you for visiting Hell and Beyond!


(c) Hell and Beyond, 2014

Indie Memphis Film Festival, Day 1: Lou Howe's Gabriel

We first meet the title character of Lou Howe's Gabriel, played by Rory Culkin, as he attempts to play with a child sitting one row ahead of him on a bus. There's a naive innocence to the way he coaxes the child to pay attention to him, along with some irresponsibility. But he seems harmless, even as he uses profanity when the child's mother intervenes. Something is not quite right about Gabriel, but that doesn't keep us from being immediately drawn to him. Gabriel is about a journey of sorts. The character, who prefers to be called Gabe, is looking for a former girlfriend whose love he is convinced will make his life complete. It might be easier to get there too, if it wasn't for his family. There are clues that he recently got out of an institution and since then, his brother (David Call) and long suffering mother (Deirdre O'Connell) have been attempting to keep him grounded. Easier said than done, since Gabe is on a mission, one that will include stops to places familiar from his past.

Howe shoots the movie with a remarkable amount of subtlety, something we're not used to when dealing with this subject matter. He strongly conveys how trapped Gabe is by showing a reflection of tree branches over his face, or darkness enveloping him as he escapes from a house through a window. Howe, in his feature debut, proves to be a natural born filmmaker, treating the material as if it's fresh and new. Two scenes that go straight to the core: one involves Gabe visiting a favorite diner, the other captures the family as they prepare to have pancakes following an awkward encounter. As closely observant as Howe is, none of the moments would ring as authentically as they do without the performances, particularly Culkin's. He's in every scene, and is never short of mesmerizing. Your heart slowly breaks as he drifts through this wicked world, a lost soul searching for the only thing that can truly cure him: love. Gabe's family loves him, but show it through acts of entrapment and belittlement. We can makes guesses as to what the outcome of Gabriel will be, and while I had a pretty good idea, I wasn't prepared for its emotional punch. I love this movie, and the unforgettable character Howe and Culkin have shared with me.


Thank for your visiting Hell and Beyond!


(C) Hell and Beyond, 2014

BOSS

It’s stuffy down here. And it smells like a cheap motel room. And I feel slightly heavier than normal. What is going on? Oh, I get it. I’m at the bottom of the pile. Wait…why am I on the floor? He’s never just thrown me on the floor before. He must be drunk. I can’t think of any other reason why he’d let me soak up the nastiness of what’s beneath me and let me be buried under other people’s belongings. Aside from the cheap perfume, God knows what obscenities lurk in these other coats. I’ve learned about germs…I’ve seen him wash his hands enough to know that other people and their belongings cannot be trusted. So, where the hell is he? And why is it so loud in here? I already know I’m going to stink something fierce when we get out of here. I hope he gets me dry cleaned. I’m gonna need a thorough cleansing after this. Wait, why am I bitching? He hardly ever wears me anymore. I guess I should be grateful he took me out of that closet for a change. Talk about stuffy. Plus, I’ve gotten so bored of the other coats in there. Except the leather one. He makes me laugh. I miss him during the winter, but he always returns with tons of new stories about his adventures and he has some priceless jokes to share. He’s so lucky to be made of leather…he ages with so much more character and style than the rest of us. It’s grueling while he’s away. The others don’t really talk much and when they do, it’s always complaints about how they haven’t been worn in sooooo long or, I can’t believe he spilled this on me and didn’t clean it up. If there’s one thing I can’t stomach, it’s a whiner. Makes me want to sew up my outside pockets so I don’t have to hear it anymore. Just let me hibernate in peace. Speaking of which, I hope he remembers to put me on a thicker hanger when he gets back. Last time, I got put on one of those cheap wire ones and my shoulders were hurting for weeks! First time he put me on, I was in so much pain it felt like the sleeves were going to rip off! Man, I’m getting restless down here. It’s starting to feel like I’m under a pile of damp blankets. Being folded in half doesn’t help. If only I could see better.

I hear a voice! Is the pile getting lighter? I think it is! I can almost see…hey, there he is! Oh yeah, he’s definitely drunk. Especially if he’s hitting on her. Come on, you can do better than that! She probably owns the coat on top of me that stinks like last week’s wine. And her voice is annoying! Please, God, don’t bring her home with us. Okay, good…looks like he’s getting ready to go. I can’t wait to get out of here and feel the cool breeze on my fabric. Hey, what the? That not the right coat! Don’t put that on! Why isn’t someone telling him that’s not the right one? It’s too short, and…is that a woman’s coat? It looks ridiculous on him…can’t he see that??!! Great...there he goes, straight out the door! What the Sam Hell am I going to do now? Surely he’ll realize he’s made a mistake and come back to rescue me from this godforsaken place. But what if he doesn’t? What will become of me? Will I be reduced to one of those coats that gets thrown into a lost and found, only to become an orphan? I could end up crumpled into a ball at the bottom of some box with all the other rejects! Forever! Okay, slow down a little…you’re panicking. That’s only natural, but it will pass. Everything will be fine. Once he sobers up, he’ll be back. Just keep telling yourself that. Just keep repeating that over and over and over…

He’s not coming. It has to have been hours by now, and there’s hardly anyone still here. Except for that creepy guy across the room that keeps eyeing me. I can’t believe no one else has noticed me over here on the floor. But it is dark in here. Maybe once the lights come on, one of the staff will find me. Although the idea of lost and found repulses me, I’d much rather go there than anywhere with this dude. He keeps looking over here like he wants to buy me a drink. If only I could stare back. Or give him the finger. Finally, everyone’s leaving! Oh no…he’s coming over here. Maybe he’s just paying. That’s it…his tab is at the bar and…HEY! What the fuck??!! Put me down, asshole! Ow! Careful! You’re gonna rip the sleeves! Any knucklehead can see that I’m way too small to fit you. When he puts his arms down this is gonna hurt! AHHH!! Did I just feel a rip? I think I did! But where? I can’t exactly place it…damn, it’s cold out here! Where the fuck are we going? This is seriously your car? God bless, that hurt! You stupid assclown! You just shut part of my tail in the door. Oh, look at you! You can barely steer…was that another rip? I can’t believe this is happening! I could not imagine anything being worse than the time candle wax got spilled on me, but DING DING!

I’m not sure how old I am (although given how easily I ripped when my abductor jammed his arm in the sleeve, I’m guessing I’ve been around a while). The first moment I was aware of my existence came when I experienced a burst of pain as a label was being stitched inside of me. I figured it was there for my benefit, as it displayed my name, “Hugo Boss.” I assume that means I am royalty, as I’ve met many other coats over the years, and no one has ever had a name with the same amount of power and stamina as mine. In fact, all I have to say is “Boss” and I can see the other coats quiver on their hangers. It could be that and my domineering appearance. I am what is referred to as a “topcoat,” so I have broad shoulders (not unlike a football player) and my tail nearly touches the floor. I overheard once that I am made from a mixture of cashmere and wool, and even though I don’t know what those are, they sound very sophisticated (I’ve seen impressed looks on faces when my owner said the word “cashmere”). After my first memory, the next thing I recall is being inside a bag. I couldn’t see or hear anything…it caused me to panic at first, but after a while, I got used to it. After all, it was pretty much all I’d ever known.

I had no real concept of time back then, so God knows how long it was before that bag got unzipped. But once it did, I saw the face of my owner, and boy, was he happy to lay eyes on me! He wore me practically every time he went out in those days, and always hung me up next to the other exotic coats. It felt so good to be in the company of class. We’d share stories about where we’d been, and I have to admit I was envious of how much of the world some of those coats had seen. I was pretty much used to seeing the same three or four places my owner liked to frequent. I’m not dissing him mind you, as he did like to throw in a curveball every so often and go somewhere new and exciting. I was his favorite for a while, and I remember the sadness in the leather coat’s voice when he’d tell me about how often he used to be worn. His days of sorrow ended though, and the owner started taking him everywhere again and only broke me out on special occasions. And even then, he hardly hung me up anymore. I’d even take one of those nasty wire hangers over being folded up or tossed over a chair. But that’s what he’d do. To make matters worse, he even started leaving things in my pockets! It gets hard to see or speak clearly when you’ve got wads of paper crammed into every opening you’ve got!

That had become the story of my life: barely worn, pockets filled, tossed around. I’d seen a bigger resurgence lately, which was awesome since the leather coat was always resting on one of his chairs, meaning we never got to talk. That left me stuck with the endless whiners, and I was ready to find a way to pop my buttons off! But then I was part of my owner’s life again! One night, he even shared me with another person who was cold, each of them using one of my sleeves. That proved to be new and exhilarating, as it was the closest I had ever been to a woman (granted I had been lucky enough to chat with a few women’s coats before). I can say without hesitation she smelled a hell of a lot better than he did, and maybe I’m only saying that because he’d been wearing the same overpowering scent for all the time I’d been with him. But whatever…it was better than being stuck in the closet. And that leads up to tonight, when first, I was flung over a chair. My collar touched the floor, and unbeknownst to my owner, I was stepped on several times. Then he takes me somewhere and throws me on the floor, under a counter, where I get lost under a pile of other coats! I should have seen the outcome of this…

We’re finally stopping, thank CHRIST! Get me out of here…I don’t even care where we are. I just want to get away from this rancid stench. I just realized that I can’t even feel the part of my tail that got smashed in the door. Guess it was for the best. I must look a mess. I don’t even want to know. Where the fuck are we? OW!!! Thanks, asshole! You open the door, and NOW I can feel my tail again. And it’s all slimy! This is Hell! I am in Hell! I died under that pile of other coats and now I’ve gone to the most unsavory of places, and for what? I tried so hard to be a good coat, to not be too judgmental and at least acknowledge the other coats in the closet! I mean, come on, is it really my fault that I’m royalty? I didn’t ask for the Hugo Boss tag. Some human did, so why aren’t they the one being punished instead of me? It’s okay, Boss. Take it easy. Let’s see where this guy is taking us. Couldn’t be any worse than that death trap we were just in.

I guess I should eat those words…what a shithole. My owner’s place is no palace, but it is compared to this. Seriously? A box for a table? No wonder he’s stealing someone else’s coat. I’m amazed he could even afford to buy a drink there. He probably didn’t…bet my cashmere ass that he put them on some poor sap’s dime. I’ve seen the type. How many times is he going to wander around this room? For the love…I just wish he’d take me off! At least then I might be able to guess where I’ve been ripped. Blech…it smells like a sewer in here! I know you’ve got to be wondering how I could possibly know what a sewer (or anything else for that matter) smells like. And I reckon I owe you an explanation on how I can talk. Simple…I learned from listening to my owner talk to other people, and from the other coats in the many closets (and piles) I’ve spent time in. You could say it was equal to the combination of a baby learning to speak and studying a foreign language. Having both methods made me fluent, by my calculations, fairly quick. As for knowing when something smells bad, well, I’ve heard enough from my owner and been in enough situations to mirror his experiences to tell you to trust me when I say I know when something has a foul stench.

So, as I was saying, this place takes the cake when it comes to bad smells. In fact, saying it resembles a sewer might be too generous. Oh…careful, CAREFUL. Well, this is unexpected. He’s hanging me up…and in a closet, no less. Whoopty Doo! I wish I had legs and could dance! Cheap plastic hangers…figures. Now, about these rips…yep, just as I thought. Both of my sleeves are torn at the top, and…shit, the left side at the bottom. At least they’re both still attached. I’m sure there are plenty of coats out there that don’t have the same luxury…and I’m staring right at one. I’m in the presence of two other coats, one brown corduroy, patches on the sleeves, both of which have multiple safety pins holding them on (sloppily, I must say). The other is a lightweight thing, gray (I think?) with a tag that reads, “Members Only.” For such an official sounding name, it sure looks cheap. Should I be nice and talk to them? Maybe I can at least get an idea of how long they’ve been here. But one glance at the state of them doesn’t give me much hope for getting out of this…oh God, am I going to end up like that corduroy?? Tattered and old and pinned up?? Try not to think about it. Just keep your wits, and at least see if we can pump these two for information.

Hugo Boss: “Greetings! My name is Hugo Boss. How long have you guys been stuck here?”

Corduroy (in a low, broken down voice): “Hugo Boss, huh? There used to be another Hugo Boss here…was quite a bit shorter than you and was a lighter color. Had more tears too, after the Master wore him a bunch.”

Another Hugo Boss?? I’d heard rumors of others, but never had come across a coat that’d actually met one. I was intrigued and freaked out at the same time.

Hugo Boss: “Where is he now?”

Corduroy: “You got me. Last time we saw him, he was lookin’ pretty ragged. Most of his buttons were gone and the pockets were ripped. Probably wouldn’t have done anyone much good. Probably ended up in a dumpster somewhere, or under the Master’s bed."

Members Only: “It’s true. The Master likes fancy coats like you. Think he just kept me for novelty value.”

Hugo Boss: “What does that mean?”

Corduroy: “He was popular at one point in time, and there aren’t a lot of his kind around anymore. That’s why the Master never wears him. He doesn’t wear me much. I was afraid I was going to wind up like poor ole Hugo Boss, but then he put me in here and now here you are.”

Great. Just great. I was going to be worn until I was withered into shreds, and there wasn’t a blasted thing I could do about it. Yep, I was right. This is Hell.

Hugo Boss: “It’s probably pretty stupid to ask if there’s a way to get out of here. Anyone else who might come along and take us?”

Members Only: “Doubt it. If so, they’d be just like him. You think someone who would really wear a coat like you would have anything to do with him?”

Hugo Boss: “Good point. So, basically, you’re telling me we’re fucked.”

Members Only: “What does that mean?”

Hugo Boss: “We’re doomed.”

Members Only: “Yep. Well, you are. The Master digs me…thinks I’m gnarly, so I know I’ll always looks like this.”

As ugly as Members Only was, at least he was still in one piece. Lucky bastard.

Hugo Boss: “What is ‘gnarly’?”

Members Only: “Just a word my first owner used to say when he really liked something. Guess it just stuck with me. Where were you before this? Did a President wear you?”

Hugo Boss: “Ha! If only…My owner lives in a small space and had dinner with common looking people. Not the life I was expecting, but it sure as hell was better than this.”

Members Only: “Corduroy here was royalty.”

Hugo Boss: “No shit? Do tell!”

Corduroy: “Not much to tell…don’t remember anything before the Master brought me here. We believe I was royalty because I had some kind of a fancy crest on my pocket here.”

Sure enough, there was the outline of where a patch had clearly been. The area was now much lighter and flatter than the weary remains surrounding it.

Hugo Boss: “That’s strange. How do you not remember what happened before?”

Members Only: “His label’s gone. I’ve been in enough closets to know that if you lose your label, everything about you goes with it.”

That chilled every bit of my wool and cashmere existence, and made me wish I could do something to make sure my label was stitched on as tight as possible. Who knew where Corduroy’s label had fallen, and what if it had been put on another coat? Another coat could be living his life now, spreading his memories! I couldn’t imagine waking up all of the sudden to discover I had gone from a well-respected top coat, to some imitation knock off. Talk about an identity crisis! I’d heard horror stories before of coats whose labels were stolen and used on cheap coats to pass them off as “sophisticated.” I was thoroughly surprised that this was the first I’d heard losing your label meant losing your mind! My situation was getting worse by the moment. But then as I started to ponder on it more, I began to realize that maybe losing my label wouldn’t be such a bad thing. If I was going to end up like that other poor Hugo Boss coat, at least I could do it without having any memory of the coat I’d once been. At least I could get rid of the psychological pain, right? God, this was getting depressing.

I took what might be considered the equivalent of a deep breath and attempted to accept my fate. And then I got angry as I began to think about my owner prancing around town with some other coat on. While I was stuck spending the rest of my days in a musty closet, this other coat, probably confused as hell, is having the time of its life and if they aren’t, at least they are with normal people. How could he have been so fucking careless? I hope he misses me. I hope he goes back to that place and is colossally upset when I’m not there. Serves him right…I was the best coat that ever happened to him. He’ll never have another as comfortable and warm as me. He doesn’t deserve it! Not after this. He can freeze for all I care. Oh shit…what if he does get a new coat that’s warmer than me? What if he gets another Hugo Boss? And then moves into a big house and goes to exquisite places and that coat gets to experience all those luxuries while I’m falling to pieces in here? And who knows how many other coats will fill these empty hangers? Why if I end up the only coat and there’s no one left to talk to? The only real hope at this point is that this guy, the Master as the others called him, wears me somewhere and forgets me. That’s the best possible scenario…it’s the only one.

I’m alone…have been for what feels like an eternity. I’m not sure exactly when the other coats were taken. It’s been so long I barely remember what they looked like anymore. I seem to recall a blazer with patches on the sleeves. Yeah, that sounds right. The closet opened, a shadowy figure took him, hanger and all, and that was the last time I saw him. The other one, which was not a blazer (and that’s all I can really say about it), just disappeared. Coats can’t sleep, but I must have been in a daze, since I have no recollection of when the other coat left the closet. I just remember he was gone and it was just me. My consciousness is getting weaker by the moment…not sure if it’s because the tears in my sleeves were never mended, or because I’ve been alone such a long time. God, how I wish I could take my patch off and start fresh. It wouldn’t help in the long run, but at least I’d get to have some kind of a new beginning. Wait…what was that? That’s the first sound I’ve heard on the other side of the door in quite some time. It’s loud, like someone is banging on the wall. Was that a scream? What were those pops? WHOA! Now there are holes in the door! Oh man, how glorious it is to see light! Someone’s coming. A person! Is that the Master? Wait, what do I care? Please just take me out of here! What’s he looking for? He’s not wearing a coat, so he needs to be looking at ME! YES!!! Careful, now! I can’t believe it…sunlight! My tired old…whatever I’m made out of has missed you so much! I’m FREE!!! I’m FREE!!! I’m…

What was I saying?


Thank you for visiting Hell and Beyond!


(c) Hell and Beyond, 2014

The Existential Weight of the Human Heart: Lee's Best Movies of 2013

When trying to tie the best movies of 2013 together, and there are a lot of them, I found myself struggling to find a universally common thread. However, as I started to look closely at the movies that kept me going back to them, the ones that moved me the most, I found among them a deep existential yearning that is as heartbreaking as it is exhilarating. The movies that resonated the most with me involved people working to find their place in this world, to discover their purpose. As someone who still grapples with this regularly, I could relate and more importantly, empathize. I had a strange year and the movies, as they often do, helped me through it. Cheers to that. And to a new movie year. See you there!

-Lee


Wish I Could Forget (in alphabetical order): Dead Man Down, Don Jon, Father's Day, A Good Day to Die Hard, Man of Steel, Now You See Me, Sushi Girl, White House Down


Wish I'd Loved (in alphabetical order): 12 Years a Slave, American Hustle, Antiviral, The Bling Ring, Captain Phillips, Pacific Rim, The Secret Life of Walter Mitty, The Spectacular Now, Stoker, To the Wonder


Notably Missed (in alphabetical order): Carrie, Leviathan, Like Someone in Love, Museum Hours


Honorable Mention (in alphabetical order): The Act of Killing, Dark Skies, Drinking Buddies, Enough Said, Gravity, The Last Stand, Maniac, Much Ado About Nothing, Post Tenebras Lux, Side Effects, Star Trek: Into Darkness, This is Martin Bonner, This is the End, V/H/S 2, Warm Bodies, The Wolf of Wall Street, You're Next


20-11

20) Sightseers dir. Ben Wheatley
19) Frances Ha dir. Noah Baumbach
18) Drug War dir. Johnnie To
17) Mud dir. Jeff Nichols
16) Fruitvale Station dir. Ryan Coogler
15) Being Awesome dir. Allen C. Gardner
14) Only God Forgives dir. Nicolas Winding Refn
13) Stories We Tell dir. Sarah Polley
12) Nebraska dir. Alexander Payne
11) The Lords of Salem dir. Rob Zombie


TOP TEN

10) The Lone Ranger dir. Gore Verbinski

The action scenes are effortlessly and epically staged, the visuals are striking, and the western roots are honored, satirized, and critiqued...sometimes all at once. The Lone Ranger is quite a tricky beast indeed, and proves that Verbinski, between this and Rango, could make a hell of a career out of crafting offbeat westerns. And while it might first appear that Johnny Depp is giving yet another one of his goofy "Johnny Depp" performances...well, I challenge you to look closer. This is an exciting, funny, and subversive picture, one of the boldest summer movies in many a moon, and one I will expand on in an article in the near future. Stay tuned...

9) Computer Chess dir. Andrew Bujalski

Made on a micro budget (and shot with cameras from the 1960s) but packed with more ideas than a movie that costs ten times as much, Andrew Bujalski's latest is a sly and often bizarre comedy mixed with heady science fiction. It takes place during the early 1980s at a computer chess convention, and while the early conversations between the contestants are disorienting, it can't even compare to the surreal and downright creepy elements that come into play as the movie progresses. This is as creative an examination of the way our relationship to technology is affecting our interaction with others that I have seen.

8) We Are What We Are dir. Jim Mickle

Jim Mickle makes horror movies that are equal part character and atmosphere, with the latter usually having much to do with the behavior of the former. This is one of those rare remakes that made me forgot the original even existed, a story of fathers and daughters, responsibility and tradition, and decisions and consequences. It features a series of outstanding performances and a conclusion that, while I never saw it coming, is completely inevitable. I can't wait to see what Mickle and his writing partner, Nick Damici, tackle next.

7) Room 237 dir. Rodney Ascher

I wisely watched this for the first time directly after re-visiting The Shining, the result being that I just wanted to turn around and pop in the source material again. A collage of different theories, hidden symbols, and various meanings, Rodney Ascher's documentary, no matter how outlandish it may get, is such a joy because it, above all else, celebrates the magic of the movies. What can be more fun than following up a screening with a lengthy discussion about the many ideas buried underneath the surface? This movie is a tribute to that, tenfold. I hope more filmmakers follow Ascher's lead.

6) Spring Breakers dir. Harmony Korine

Harmony Korine's latest turns the American Dream of the party that never ends into a fever dream of the coming apocalypse. Beginning with a monster assault of footage containing college kids boozing it up on the beach, he then segue ways into the hypnotic journey of four girls searching for the ultimate vacation, one that involves drinking, drugs, and eventually, danger. James Franco mesmerizes as a drug dealer who takes these paradise hungry girls under his wing. It's a movie filled with unforgettably haunting imagery, much of it vividly displaying the quick and undeniable loss of innocence.

5) Before Midnight dir. Richard Linklater

It's hard to believe that Ethan Hawke and Julie Delpy have lived with these characters for almost twenty years, and what's even more remarkable is how, through the course of this series, each movie is better than the last. The first two pictures perfectly set the stage for this new (final?) chapter, as we finally witness what nine years together has done to Jesse and Celine. This is a truly wise portrait of what happens when a fantasy romance becomes real. It's about two people who love each other but are too stubborn to know how to properly show it. The idea of them being together was always more magical than the end result, a truth that is conveyed with unflinching honesty from one scene to the next. I sincerely hope this isn't the last time we see this couple.

4) Inside Llewyn Davis dir. Joel & Ethan Coen

Elegantly photographed, expertly performed, bleakly honest, and absurdly comic, the Coen Brothers' latest is also one of their very best (which is impressive considering they crank out one winner after another). It continues to show how expertly they handle period pieces, in this case 1960s Greenwich Village, where a struggling folk singer slaves away to (barely) make ends meet. The quest for success with your art is an endless one, a cycle that includes lots of couch surfing, dive bars, and rejection. And in the case of Llewyn Davis, you do it because it's the only thing you know how to do. Like all the best Coen Brothers pictures, it's beautiful, comic, and ultimately, melancholy.

3) Upstream Color dir. Shane Carruth

A gorgeous and poetic puzzle of a movie, filled to the brim with ideas and scenes of subtle sublimeness. It approaches the role of nature in ways that are wholly original, and shows the rebirth of oneself and the discovery of a relationship with tenderness and compassion. Shane Carruth wrote, directed, edited, scored, and stars in the movie, and each role is handled with the love and respect of someone with a true adoration for the medium. Here's hoping he doesn't wait nine more years before his next feature. If that turns out to be the case, it will only mean more time to continue unlocking the many secrets of this one.

2) The World's End dir. Edgar Wright

What a bonus that the best time I had at the movies all year was also one of the most poignant. Simon Pegg gives a career best performance as a man pushing 40, obsessed with completing an adolescent challenge that was left unfinished. The movie begins as a painful portrait of lost youth and then, without warning, shifts gears into a breathlessly staged genre picture. The two sections fit together so well because director Edgar Wright, as he has in his other movies, uses the spectacle as a backdrop for a character's growth. As splendid as it has been in his past efforts, I don't think it's had quite the sonic impact it does here. The final scene of The World's End is one of the few this year that made me tear up. I wasn't expecting that, and I'm all the more grateful for it.

1) Her dir. Spike Jonze

I believe it was about the time Theodore (Joaquin Phoenix) first meets his operation system, Samantha (Scarlett Johansson), that an emotional wave swept over me, and it stood its ground for the rest of the movie. Spike Jonze, working from his first original script, accomplishes the hefty feat of creating a believable relationship between a man and a computer. He does so by making Samantha, who is only a voice, into a complex, smart, and sympathetic being. We can sense how her evolution is affecting who she is becoming, even if Theodore doesn't understand her anymore than she understands him or he understands himself. The core of the picture revolves around a future society where relationships are broken and technology has finally created such a large gap in human interaction that true love has become a distant memory. Real connections are met with fear, and how could they not be? It's easier to get close to something that has no expectations of you. Her observes these themes with overwhelming clarity, managing at the same time to create a very moving rapport between the lonely and confused Theodore and Samantha, at times even making us forgot she's just a voice in a machine. I was spellbound and heart broken by every moment of it, thanks in part to the dynamic performances (particularly Johansson's) but more because of Jonze's ability to write dialogue that is strikingly personal yet identifiable. This is the best kind of love story; one that has truth, consequences, pain, and most importantly, tinges of hope. It is my favorite movie of year, and one of the best of the decade thus far. If another movie is able to consume me more than this one, I might not be able to bear it.


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