Hell and Beyond

My 25 Most Influential Movies

2011-08-21T18:34:00.000-07:00

This is inspired by my good friend, Charlie Forrester, who really got to the core of why we love the movies and how they help shape who we are. With that it mind, it comes as no surprise that most of these choices come from the decades of my youth, the 1980s and 90s. I had no idea how difficult a task this would be, but it was, made even tougher since I have put these movies in order based on how much they impacted me.

Here's the fun part...each one is represented by a screen shot, and it's up to you to guess each movie. Some of them will probably be obvious, but I've done my best to be tricky. Let's see how well I did...

-Lee

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Complete List:

25) The NeverEnding Story (1984) dir. Wolfgang Petersen
24) Kingpin (1996) dir. Peter and Bobby Farrelly
23) Eraserhead (1977) dir. David Lynch
22) Delicatessen (1991) dir. Jean-Pierre Jeunet and Marc Caro
21) RoboCop (1987) dir. Paul Verhoeven
20) Blood Simple (1984) dir. Joel and Ethan Coen
19) Assault on Precinct 13 (1976) dir. John Carpenter
18) Natural Born Killers (1994) dir. Oliver Stone
17) The Player (1992) dir. Robert Altman
16) Freaks (1932) dir. Tod Browning
15) The American Astronaut (2001) dir. Cory McAbee
14) The Incredibles (2004) dir. Brad Bird
13) City Lights (1931) dir. Charles Chaplin
12) The Adventures of Buckaroo Banzai Across the Eighth Dimension (1984) dir. W.D. Richter
11) Evil Dead 2: Dead By Dawn (1987) dir. Sam Raimi
10) The Empire Strikes Back (1980) dir. Irvin Kershner
9) Rear Window (1954) dir. Alfred Hitchcock
8) The Killer (1989) dir. John Woo
7) The Exorcist (1973) dir. William Friedkin
6) Synecdoche, NY (2008) dir. Charlie Kaufman
5) Apocalypse Now (1979) dir. Francis Ford Coppola
4) Rushmore (1998) dir. Wes Anderson
3) Die Hard (1988) dir. John McTiernan
2) Do the Right Thing (1989) dir. Spike Lee
1) Pulp Fiction (1994) dir. Quentin Tarantino

Thank you for visiting Hell and Beyond!

(c)Hell and Beyond, 2011

We're Halfway There...

2011-07-05T07:56:00.000-07:00

I've seen so few movies this year, I didn't know if there would be enough for a halfway Top Five. Thankfully, the last week changed that! Here are the strongest the year has offered so far, which, to my surprise, includes one masterpiece and another that could garner the same praise as it grows in my mind.

-Lee

5) Source Code dir. Duncan Jones

4) Rango dir. Gore Verbinksi

3) Cave of Forgotten Dreams dir. Werner Herzog

2) Midnight in Paris dir. Woody Allen

1) The Tree of Life dir. Terrence Malick

Thank you for visiting Hell and Beyond!

(c) Hell and Beyond, 2011

Raimifest

2011-03-09T16:53:00.000-08:00

Get ready for the Raimifest, hosted by Bryce Wilson at http://thingthatdontsuck.blogspot.com/2011/02/raimifest-announcement.html

I am planning to contribute...just don't know what it's going to be yet. Updates soon...

Thank you for visiting Hell and Beyond!

(c) Hell and Beyond, 2011

Smashing Through the Flood Gates: The Best Movies of 2010

2011-02-21T19:38:00.000-08:00

The first year of the decade is down, and after a rather rocky start, the movie year turned out to be something special. It's the first movie year since 2007 where I've had a great deal of trouble putting my top five in order (it literally took about three days). The best movies of the year each impressed me visually, but even more so, they each found a way to say something about where we were in 2010, for better or for worse. If I don't feel like I need to say more about it than that, it's not because I'm lazy. Hell, I want you to watch these movies so you can ask me why I loved it when you hated it and vise versa. The flood gates of the new decade in film have been opened, and after the interesting progression of the last decade, it'll be fascinating to see how this one pans out. Hope to see you there.

-Lee

Dishonorable Mentions: Alice in Wonderland, Cemetery Junction, Green Zone, Leaves of Grass, The Losers, MacGruber, Micmacs, and A Nightmare on Elm Street.

Honorable Mentions: The A-Team, Best Worst Movie, The Book of Eli, Buried, Cyrus, Everyone Else, The Expendables, Faster, Greenberg, Hot Tub Time Machine, The Human Centipede (First Sequence), Jackass 3D, The Last Exorcism, Mother, Paranormal Activity 2, Piranha 3D, Somewhere, The Town, Wild Grass, Winter's Bone, and Youth in Revolt.

20-11

20) The Crazies dir. Breck Eisner
19) Valhalla Rising dir. Nicolas Winding Refn
18) Shutter Island dir. Martin Scorsese
17) The Illusionist (L'illusionniste) dir. Sylvain Chomet
16) Animal Kingdom dir. David Michôd
15) The Kids Are All Right dir. Lisa Cholodenko
14) Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: Part 1 dir. David Yates
13) Kick-Ass dir. Matthew Vaughn
12) Blue Valentine dir. Derek Cianfrance
11) Vengeance dir. Johnnie To

The Top Ten

10) Exit Through the Gift Shop dir. Banksy

9) Dogtooth dir. Giorgos Lanthimos

8) Let Me In dir. Matt Reeves

7) I Am Love (Io sono l'amore) dir. Luca Guadagnino

6) The American dir. Anton Corbijn

5) True Grit dir. Joel and Ethan Coen

4) Black Swan dir. Darren Aronofsky

3) Scott Pilgrim vs. the World dir. Edgar Wright

2) Toy Story 3 dir. Lee Unkrich

1) The Social Network dir. David Fincher

Thank you for visiting Hell and Beyond!

(c) Hell and Beyond, 2011

Knowledge is the Treasure: Steven Spielberg's Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull

2010-12-19T11:43:00.000-08:00

Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull opens, like the Indiana Jones adventures before it, with the Paramount logo dissolving into something literal (an actual mountain, a mountain on a gong, etc.). In each movie, the post logo reveal has given us a sense of time and place, but in this instance, it is disorienting. The first shot is of a tiny hill, and once the prairie dog pops through it, he is immediately scared away as a speeding car crushes over the dirt. What first almost feels like the director, Steven Spielberg, poking fun at the openings of the past, now takes on a greater weight. Seeing this creation of nature wrecked by a creation of man hints that we are in an age of destruction.

The car is filled with teenagers listening to Elvis, driving too fast and feeling the exhilaration of their youth. They come upon some military trucks and challenge one of them to a race, and seeing the two vehicles side by side provides a perfect metaphor of innocence vs. tact. The teens don't have a care in the world, as nothing in their lives has had consequence yet. The race ends when the military trucks take a detour by a sign labeled "Atomic Cafe" while the young and carefree fly away to continue growing and learning about the world. Unlike our still unseen hero, they have no idea that things are not going to stay that easy.

From the trunk of one of the military vehicles, our beloved Indiana Jones (Harrison Ford, the best he's ever been) is reborn. Fittingly, he's not revealed to us until his trademark fedora is placed firmly on his head. The first word he utters is "Russians," and it generates a tinge of excitement because we can see Indy is already in over his head. But there's something different when we look at him now. Unlike the teens from the opening sequence, he seems tired and less certain he will be able to get out of the current predicament ("We were younger. We had guns."). That doesn't stop him, of course, from outsmarting his captors when they force him to find a crate in the Area 51 warehouse.

We never would have expected to see Indiana Jones assisting in the recovery of "mummified remains" of this sort, but sure enough, the crate is opened and the content is the corpse of something that is not of this world. For Indy, seeing is not believing at this point. It will naturally take a journey for him to truly gain an understanding of an existence he currently doubts. This has been the case with all of his adventures, but the artifact he is protecting here will be harder to accept. Equally as hard though, are the changes in political climate. Paranoia runs rampant, you never know who can be trusted, and those around you are always preparing for the worst.

This last bit comes effectively into play when Indy stumbles upon a nuclear testing site made to look like a suburban neighborhood. Instead of just setting up a bunch of empty houses, trouble has been taken to supply every necessary detail to make this feel like a classic American suburb, complete with mannequins to represent husbands, wives, children, and even pets. Of course, if these bombs really get used, it won't be on Americans, so it's as if the people testing these weapons have to reverse the effect to see if they could possibly identify with how it feels to be in the wake of such destruction. The image of the creepy mannequin faces being obliterated is unsettling to say the least (I also couldn't help but think about Spielberg's own history with the destruction of the "nuclear" family).

The movie gets it's first iconic shot after Indy survives the blast. We watch as he observes the mushroom cloud engulfing the sky, but we never see his reaction to it. Time stops momentarily as our hero gets to take in the scope of something greater than any danger he has ever been lucky enough to escape. This threat is real. It's at this point in the movie that Indy begins to acknowledge that he's not a young man anymore. After being suspended from the college (on accusal of treason), he sits at his desk and looks at pictures of the two people he's lost: his father and Marcus Brody. Unfortunately, time does not stand still quite as often as it used to. Or as a colleague puts it, "We seem to have reached the age where life stops giving us things and starts taking them away."

Indy misses the father he never really knew. The disconnect between fathers and sons is a Spielberg trademark (best displayed, I think, in Catch Me If You Can), and it's one he will explore again here. Yes, Indy has a son named Mutt (Shia LaBeouf), a motorcycle riding greaser who needs our hero to help rescue his mother. Of course, it isn't until close to the middle of the picture that Mutt finds out Indy is his father; before now, he thought his step father was his real one. There's a genuine sense of disappointment as this tough kid tries to grasp the fact that his father is not a war hero (as he originally believed) but a teacher. The movie has fun playing with their relationship, with Mutt constantly commenting on Indy's age ("What are you, like 80?") and Indy getting onto Mutt about going back to school (before he knew Mutt was his son, he didn't care). It's amusing that he would pick on Mutt for not staying in school; after a chase sequence that ends in the campus library where Indy teaches, he informs the students that if they want to be good archaeologists, they "have to get out of the library."

Since this is an Indiana Jones movie, the plot involves a religious artifact being used to obtain the wrong kind of power. It's fitting given the time period that the artifact is the skull of an "inter-dimensional being," an element that drew a great amount of criticism from audiences. If Indy had punched one of these beings like Will Smith in Independence Day, I could see some rationality behind the complaints. But the screenplay by David Koepp is smarter than that, instead focusing on what these beings represent.

The idea of God is to acknowledge a presence greater than oneself. We learn late in the movie that an ancient tribe worshiped these beings since they came from the sky, and because they were taught farming and irrigation, tools that would help keep them alive. In other words, these beings gave them the knowledge to gain the necessities of life, and to honor them, the people tied ropes around their children's skulls to elongate them in the image of these "Gods." We are critical of what we do not understand, especially when it comes to religion (or to be more precise, a religion that is not ours), but Indy is familiar with the lengths people will go to pay tribute to what they believe is true ("Depends on who your God is.").

Since the days of the conquistadors, anyone seeking the skull has done so for selfish reasons, and now it is in the hands of Russian baddie Irina Spalko (Cate Blanchett). She sees the skull as a tool for psychic power, a way to obtain information that will assist in conquering others in times of war. To her, this is acceptable since people have used religion for personal gain for many years (she references how Oppenheimer quoted the Hindu bible when creating the atomic bomb). Of course, the riches that can be obtained are based on real faith, not blind, and it is for this reason Spalko is unable to tap into the skull ("The skull does not speak to everyone."). True faith comes from within (why else would they be inter-dimensional beings?), so it is to her discredit that she believes that her quest for knowledge is genuine. Ultimately, you have to ask the right questions and sometimes knowing the answers is not enough.

The prophet of the movie is Harold Oxley (John Hurt), a seemingly mad scientist who is able to see the light. His instability stems from the fact that the mind is often unable to grasp things as quickly as the soul. While he is able to supply nuggets of information ("The one who was lost." "Someone came."), they do not come full circle until the movie's final sequence when the characters go to return the skull to its rightful owner. It is here Spalko finally gets what she wished for, although neither her mind nor her soul have the capacity to sustain the "knowledge." There's a brilliant shot containing Indy and Spalko on the outsides of the frame and Oxley in the center; it's a perfect way to visually represent that what matters lies within.

In a movie full of awesome shots (this is Spielberg after all), it's hard to top the awe aspiring moment where the saucer takes off. It proves to be a fitting bookend to the mushroom cloud because once again, we look on as Indy does and do not see his reaction. But it's also the other moment in the picture when time stands still, however in this instance it is not a threat. The departure of these beings brings with it a sense of hope (what stands out most is that we don't see where the ship goes...once the rocks drop, it's just gone). When asked if they returned to space, Oxley suggests they went back to "the space between spaces." In other words, a place inhabited by a force greater than ourselves. Oxley's line gives greater weight to Indy's observation to Mutt that, "Somewhere your Grandpa is laughing."

I have yet to mention the action in the picture, maybe because I feel like those scenes are the least significant. They are tremendous fun, with Spielberg as always reminding us why he has yet to be matched when it comes to technical precision. If there is a piece of the action I need to note, it is in regards to the much maligned CGI. Most of the tomatoes thrown here are in regards to the sequence of Mutt swinging through the vines with the monkeys. While I will agree it is cheesy, I also feel it is a nice breather, since the last hour of the movie is basically wall-to-wall action set pieces. I also feel comfortable defending the CGI because this movie is a throwback to the science fiction pictures of the 1950s. All of the visuals here compliment the ridiculousness ("Big damn ants!") of old monster movies, and in addition, Indiana Jones taught us a long time ago that in his adventures, Anything Goes. This is an homage, so if the effects looked too slick, the purpose would be defeated.

The most satisfying scene is saved for last. Because Indy learned that time is not something he has control over, he finally ties the knot with Marion (Karen Allen, still feisty, but not feisty enough). As Oxley put it, "How much of human life is lost in wait." This appreciation for life leads Indy to snatch his hat when Mutt attempts to put it on. Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull is about realizing you are only immortal for a limited time, and sometimes it takes discovering something beyond one's understanding to realize that. The fact that the movie came almost twenty years after the last entry in the series makes perfect sense, as Spielberg is at the right age to identify with his hero's internal struggles. This is a personal project in a career full of personal projects, and it's those touches that make Spielberg's movies stand out as something special. With Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull, it's easy to simply look and enjoy what's on the surface, but the reward will be much richer if you decide to look at what lies within.

Thank you for visiting Hell and Beyond!

(c) Hell and Beyond, 2010

Spielberg Blogathon

2010-12-12T15:20:00.000-08:00

I am very excited to announce I will be participating in a Spielberg Blogathon! Go to http://www.spielbergblogathon.blogspot.com for more details, and be on the lookout for my post in the upcoming weeks.

Thank you for visiting Hell and Beyond!

"Now I'm Just A Traveling Man.": William Peter Blatty's The Exorcist III

2010-12-04T11:48:00.000-08:00

William Friedkin said he wanted to direct The Exorcist because he felt it was about the mystery of faith. Knowing that, I have to wonder if that's why he and the writer, William Peter Blatty, had disagreements when it came to doing a followup. The two were going to re-team to do the sequel even before Blatty wrote his novel, Legion, which would become The Exorcist III for the big screen. But they were unable to see eye-to-eye (a problem they had on The Exorcist as well), so Friedkin backed out and Blatty wrote a novel instead. It did feature characters from the original novel and film, but they were not directly related. Years later, Blatty wrote a script and after deciding to direct, a studio was on board and a new movie was in the works.

Blatty wanted the movie to retain the title of his novel only, but the studio saw things differently. In their eyes, keeping The Exorcist in the title was key, although Blatty didn't want to be associated with the second movie, which was a disaster in every respect. Given his battle with the studio (which led to him re-shooting an ending that feels as tacked on as it is), it's an amazement that The Exorcist III works as well as it does (I've read many, including Blatty, who think it is scarier than The Exorcist). The reason for its success is due not only to the effective dialogue flowing through the screenplay, but also because of Blatty's knack for unsettling and genuinely frightening visuals. Watching the picture again, I had to wonder what the first movie would have been like had he directed it.

The movie takes place in Georgetown, fifteen years after the exorcism of Reagan McNeil and the death of Father Karras. Kinderman (George C. Scott), the cop investigating the deaths in the first movie, was also Karras's friend and is still haunted by what happened that night. He spends the anniversary of the event by going to see "It's A Wonderful Life," even though Kinderman doesn't think such a thing exists. He's spent the last fifteen years a skeptic, as he believes "the whole world is a homicide victim." He still spends time with priests, but not to make himself feel better. Instead, it gives him an opportunity to tell them what's wrong with the world and ask why God would allow such things to happen. His thoughts on the divine are best summed up when he looks at a snow globe, since everything that exists inside it is make believe. There's something envious about the way Kinderman studies it; you get the impression he wants to go behind the glass where it is safe.

Kinderman's already bleak life is made all the worse when a grisly murder occurs and it marks the pattern of a notorious killer, known as "Gemini," who was stopped years before. More murders follow, with each one more bizarre than the last. But while the first victim was a child, the next few are priests, one of which was Kinderman's friend and died in a hospital. This leads Kinderman to consult the head doctor (Scott Wilson, classic as always), and it is here that Blatty explores some of the same areas covered in The Exorcist. While the first picture deeply examined faith verses science, this movie puts them closer to the same level. There's a scene where the doctor has written out exactly what he is going to tell Kinderman when they meet and even refers to the script as he is talking, which in essence means that doctors and priests both must rehearse speeches to be clear about what they are saying. Neither one of them ever has real answers; only projections on paper.

The hospital becomes the key setting once Kinderman discovers a man in the mental ward who he swears is Father Karras (once again played by the awesome Jason Miller). His interviews with the patient reminds of Karras's conversations with the possessed Reagan, which makes perfect sense since Kinderman is a skeptic and at that time, so was Karras. Strangely, the patient knows the details of all the recent murders and even claims to be the "Gemini" killer himself. The movie effectively shifts back and forth between the face of Karras and the face of the real "Gemini" (played by an ultra creepy Brad Dourif), letting the audience know that while Kinderman does recognize this man on the outside, someone completely different lives within. It's as if Karras is being punished for saving Reagan. The fact he is still possessed by something shows that his faith never truly recovered.

The most intriguing scenes in The Exorcist III are the conversations between Kinderman and "Gemini." The dialogue is so rich and disturbing ("Gemini" talks about how a dismembered head can still see for twenty seconds after being removed, so he shows the victim their body) that the images conjured in one's mind are equally as scary to what Blatty cooks up onscreen. In addition, the scenes further extend Blatty's view that people are ultimately weak to the power of evil and it's a force beyond their control. Karras's body is proof of that, as the "Gemini" explains that the body is nothing more than a box for the spirit and these days, he's become a traveling man.

Blatty is able to pull off plenty of skin crawling visuals, the best of which is a sequence in the hospital that consists of a long hallway shot and great use of subtle noise. If the build up is nerve wracking, wait until you get to the payoff, which is a moment that gave me the worst goosebumps I have ever experienced (every time I see the movie I still get them, even though I know what is going to happen). Blatty makes a lot of the scares all the better by providing quick glimpses so our mind goes into overdrive trying to figure out what we just saw. It's a shame he has not directed a movie since The Exorcist III, although given his difficulties with the studio, I guess it is hard to blame him.

If there's a criticism I can give Blatty as a director, it's his overuse of close ups. Maybe it was because he was thrilled to be working with the great George C. Scott, who brings a lot of great moments (and a handful of overcooked ones) to the role of Kinderman. Not one of my favourite characters in the first movie, Kinderman has gone from a needless plot device to a fully realized man who only has faith and acceptance in the things right in front of him: death and destruction. Being a cop has become who he is, since he is incapable of turning his back on the bad around him (like he is unable to live without it). What's interesting is the fact he is able to find the negative even with the positive elements in his life (he tells an amusing story about why he can't go home because of what his wife is cooking).

I'm in agreement that the ending is the movie's greatest weakness. While there are certainly lacking moments here and there, none of them feel as abrupt and unnecessary as the exorcism that ends the picture. It would have been nice to have a showdown of words between Kinderman and "Gemini" but instead, we are treated to a barrage of special effects and demonic imagery. There hasn't been anything very bombastic about the rest of the movie, so to throw it in during the last ten minutes cheapens the journey a bit.

The Exorcist III was met with mixed reviews and fair box office returns, but it certainly didn't garner much real attention. Given the reputation of part two, this doesn't come as much of a surprise, although I view the movie as a stand alone piece and not an Exorcist movie, even though it does share some of the same ideas. Released in 1990, this probably was the first notable horror picture of the new decade. Despite its minor missteps, it has found an audience as the years have passed, and why shouldn't it? The Exorcist III is a reminder of when horror movies were not about grossing us out or tons of sharp cuts, but about finding inventive ways to creep us out of our wits. Twenty years later, it still succeeds.

Thank you for visiting Hell and Beyond!

(c) Hell and Beyond, 2010

The Curse of Everlasting Life: Brad Ellis' Daylight Fades

2010-11-07T11:08:00.000-08:00

Review contains multiple spoilers.

When thinking about how difficult life is as a human, imagine how hard it is to live as a vampire. Many people don't like to think about the fact they will eventually die, but do they have what it takes to live forever? Would the humanity they once had fade away as the times passes? Could they get used to feeding on blood, but more than that, the blood of humans? For some vampires, it is not a challenge at all. They accept and embrace what they are, and since they are no longer human, rules do not apply to them anymore. But to others, letting go of their humanity could be too painful, so coming to terms with what they are will be a constant, perhaps eternal struggle.

These conflicts are at the core of Brad Ellis' Daylight Fades, a drama that at its center revolves around an eternal life filled with regret and loneliness. What works about it is the way it shows that not being human doesn't change the fact one can continue to make the same mistakes. If a vampire tries to hang on to what they were before they changed, the fact they are trying to be something they're not can only end in disaster. Hence is the case with Seth (Allen Gardner), a vampire who, as the movie opens, has hit rock bottom and is overwhelmed by all the aspects of his life. His existence is desolate and pathetic, so when he is offered an opportunity to have it all go away, he leaves everything behind and foolishly takes it.

The movie picks back up years later, and we see that Seth's decision to become a vampire has left him worse off than he was before. His resistance to living wild and free has led him to watch his daughter, Elizabeth (Rachel Miles), now in her twenties, who's life is not much better than Seth's was once he finally gave up. Elizabeth has never had positive male figures in her life, and the experience has left her bitter and cruel when it comes to partners and fathers. All this changes when she meets Johnny (Matthew Stiller), a loner who is shy, lacks confidence, and "got left with a broken home." The two share a stale meet cute that might be convincing if they were in high school but here, there's no real chemistry. It feels like they are meeting because the plot requires it.

Their biggest connection comes on a dance floor. Neither of them is looking for a relationship, but as shown through a nicely staged montage, they click and before he knows it, Johnny is in love. Elizabeth's guard is unable to come down though, so she cheats in an act of desperation and the emotional toll it takes on Johnny leads to a car accident he cannot recover from. And this is where Seth enters in. Having tortured himself over not being a part of his daughter's life, he sees saving Johnny from death as the only way he can show his love for her. It's an act of desperation to be sure, because why would Seth want to give someone the life he has? How could he possibly be so selfish as to force his daughter to grow old and die while Johnny stays the same and lives an eternity of Hell?

We have to wonder if Seth is changing Johnny as much for himself as he is for Elizabeth. It's obvious that the years alone have made it a struggle for him to relate to or communicate well with humans. He tries to sympathize with their sadness, but is unable to properly show emotion anymore. By turning Johnny and taking care of him, Seth will not only have someone he can talk to, but will finally be a proper father figure. He can teach Johnny how to survive as a vampire without having to take a human life. You can see the change in attitude as Seth first begins to explain to Johnny what he is. It's the first time Seth has felt alive in years.

Seth is so busy focusing on helping Johnny understand what he is, he never thinks about how the situation will affect Elizabeth. He makes Johnny promise not to change her, neglecting to remember that she will ultimately suffer and have to find ways to explain why he never ages. At one point, they ask Seth if sex is still an option and while they are able, they "can't create life." The only thing a vampire is capable of is taking life away. What Seth has failed to realize is that he's coaching Johnny to become him. Now that Johnny is a vampire, what will happen if Elizabeth cannot handle it and leaves? There are a number of moments where Seth sits outside the house of his lost love, a foreshadowing to Johnny's future. In this world, love is a double edged sword, as you will lose whether you are human or vampire.

The movie's visual style compliments the mood of the story. Most of the scenes take place at night, which lets the darkness cloak the characters in sadness. Seth is kept mostly in the shadows, most effectively during the scenes where he watches his lost love's home. Only half of his face is lit, appropriately showcasing the two sides struggling to exist, one vampire and the other human. Late in the movie, Seth has a lovely reunion with Sarah (Kim Justis, excellent), Elizabeth's mother and the woman he left behind. It is here we realize by turning Johnny into him, he is also turning Elizabeth into her mother. It's a selfish act, but even all the years of being a vampire haven't been able to change Seth from the shell of a man he used to be. The most tragic quality to Seth is that he will spend eternity making the same types of mistakes and not realizing it.

Seth is the glue that holds the movie together, and the scenes that feature him leave a lasting impression. Sympathizing with a vampire is not easy to pull off, but Gardner's quietly moving performance is able to do this. Sadly, the same cannot be said for all aspects of his screenplay. As it has been with a lot of his writing, I find that the supporting characters are often more appealing than the main ones. The same applies here. In addition to Seth, the movie's best character is Raven, played by the dynamite Rachel Kimsey. She is the antithesis of Seth in the vampire world, being that she uses humans as sexual toys and then feeds on them. Living forever is the ultimate party, and since there aren't many vampires around, the world has become her personal playground.

Raven sees Johnny as a protege and uses her sexuality as a way to bring him to her side. She looks down on humanity and uses her lifestyle as a way to make Johnny do the same. What I like about her performance is that she is not flat out aggressive with Johnny to adhere to her ways. Instead, she is patient with him and uses small temptations in hopes he will come around. As much as I love Raven, I never found Johnny's journey with her convincing. There's a scene where he talks to Elizabeth and is frustrated about the fact she left him in a time of crisis. Instead of simply voicing his disapproval of what she did (although he should have been understanding about it, since he killed someone right in front of her), he tells her he does not love her anymore. It feels too convenient, as if it has to happen so Johnny will get to experience the Raven side of being a vampire for a while.

I mentioned earlier how lame the meet cute between Johnny and Elizabeth is and sadly, their relationship never develops into something realistic. Worse, with the exception of Seth, none of the other relationships in the movie have any ring of truth to them. Since Elizabeth has never had a father, the screenplay provides an alcoholic stepfather named Tim (Michael Gravois), who exists for no other reason than to be overbearing and unsupportive. We also know that he is in the movie so Seth can attack him later. Same applies to Elizabeth's ex-boyfriend (Adam Burns), a complete asshole whose every appearance is building to the moment Johnny will finally get angry and kill his first human. I like the idea he will have to pay for this sin, but the movie's resolution to it is a cop out. I don't have a problem with the fact Johnny writes a letter detailing what he did, it's that the movie attempts to milk emotional resonance by showing the dead kid's mother watching Johnny leave after he drops the letter at her door. In this case, less would have been more.

Seth's best friend, Patrick (Dennis Phillipi), has become the close family connection and the real father figure to Elizabeth, although in many of the scenes, he feels more like an intruder. Instead of helping any of the conflicts he gets involved in, I kept thinking he looked like that cool uncle who would give you a sip of his beer when you're a kid. Equally out of place is Johnny's best friend, Jake (Drew Smith), a character who is in the movie to provide comic relief, although the only thing comic about him is that his dialogue sounds like a cheap stand up routine. He is supposed to be support for Johnny, but his comments are both egotistical and misogynistic (will Gardner ever be able to outgrow writing this character?).

Good performances could help overcome the issues I have with the two lead characters, but the result is a mixed bag. Rachel Miles tries hard to convey Elizabeth's emotional uncertainties, the problem being that she tries a bit too hard. I found the performance too theatrical, meaning the delivery of every line and every facial expression comes off as overdone. It's as if she is never comfortable in the role. This is most apparent during the scene where she confesses her love to Johnny as he is dying. As she cries, it looks like she is pretending to cry, so instead of appearing sad, she looks like she wants to swallow him whole.

Matthew Stiller fares better as Johnny. Aside from having the right look for the role, he is able to convincingly convey his uncertainty and then acceptance of what he has become. Even when the movie requires him to do things that don't make a lot of sense, Stiller's face gives the perfect amount of nuance to pull the audience along with him. Where he doesn't fare so well is in regards to the romance. Like Rachel Miles, his delivery has a tendency to get a bit theatrical, as if they are competing to see who can talk louder.

Many of the scripts failings are hidden by the cinematography, which strikes the right somber mood. The widescreen framing captures a world that feels worn down and lived in by beings who are uncertain of their purpose and may no longer care. In fact, the imagery is so entrancing it only brings out the screenplay's greatest weakness: that with the exception of Seth, none of the other characters feels lived in. The first time we meet them in the movie, it feels like the first moment they've ever existed and when the movie is over, we can't imagine their lives continuing. Everything begins and ends with the movie itself because the people inhabiting it feel like creations of a plot and nothing more. Due to this, it never feels like anything is at stake (no pun intended).

The movie's climax drives this idea home. After a suicide attempt to hopefully force Seth to change her, Elizabeth decides she, Johnny, and Seth should leave town and start over (what she thinks they'll find by running away is a mystery, as Johnny will still be a vampire). They all agree to it, but once on the road, Johnny realizes he can't go because it's not fair to Elizabeth. He only has one choice, and that is to die. The scene is completely abrupt and there has not been any real progression to bring Johnny to this point. If anything, he should be sacrificing himself out of guilt for murdering a human. Even more puzzling is why Elizabeth is so quick to accept his decision aside from the fact it makes sense in context to the plot (she never got to say goodbye the first time he was going to die, so now she can).

Seth's guilt over what he made Johnny (and how he has ruined Elizabeth's life) lets him know he must die as well. This makes sense, as Seth is the only character in the movie who has not functioned as a simple plot device. The only flaw in Seth's logic is that it seems he would try to stop Johnny and have them leave him behind. In his mind, Johnny and Elizabeth should be able to start over without him. The climax leads to a beautifully composed final scene of Seth and Johnny staring at the sunrise as they accept their fate. It marks the first time they truly see things clearly and are able to accept what they really are. It's a sublime moment in a movie that doesn't completely earn it. There is plenty of admire about Daylight Fades, but it has too many characters and needs a clearer focus. It's an unforgettable ending in search of a memorable path to get there.

Thank you for visiting Hell and Beyond!

(c) Hell and Beyond, 2010

Meeting Halfway: The Best of 2010 (so far)

2010-07-05T14:49:00.000-07:00

No real need for introductions here...I'll let my choices speak for themselves. More to come soon, and here's to hoping this dreadful summer movie season shows signs of improvement.

LEE

5) Hot Tub Time Machine dir. Steve Pink

It isn't nearly as funny as it should have been, but what ultimately struck me about Hot Tub Time Machine is how well it understands how disappointing life can be. By using a cheap gimmick to take three forty-year-olds back to their glory days, the movie explores how going back to the best days of your past will not fix the problems of the present. In fact, it can potentially make them worse. The idea is conveyed through scenes of embarrassing truth, many of which are meant to be funny, but struck a nerve for me in a different way. If I had laughed more (and don't get me wrong, I did laugh), I'd consider Hot Tub Time Machine a classic. As it stands, the movie is a splendid examination of mid-life crisis.

4) Kick-Ass dir. Matthew Vaughn

A superhero movie that has its cake and eats it too, Matthew Vaughn's latest seamlessly blends the real world with the comic book one, while at the same time finding a way to mix teen comedy and romance with outrageous violence. Like all good movies of this genre, it weighs in on the responsibilities of its heroes and tests their moral boundaries. The title challenges us to think about how we view superheroes when we are children, and the movie shows, sometimes painfully, the realization we come to once we discover that it is not as easy or as chivalrous as we might expect.

3) Shutter Island dir. Martin Scorsese

The most misunderstood movie of the year so far, and one that begs for multiple viewings, Scorsese's newest is a love letter to '50s cinema in style and in tone. It deceptively plays like a textbook mystery, but carefully peeling back the layers reveals something much deeper and profound. This isn't just about finding a missing girl; at its core, the movie is a complex and heartbreaking trip into an irreversibly damaged psyche. It would have been easy to find a satisfying resolution, a road Scorsese sidesteps with the movie's final line of dialogue. Any questions are answered at that point, and in looking back over the events of the movie, there are no cheats to be found. Shutter Island has been invading my brain since I saw it, so needless to say I can't wait to see it again.

2) Exit Through the Gift Shop dir. Banksy

As fascinating and thought provoking as any documentary I have seen in recent years, Exit Through the Gift Shop acquaints the viewer with the lives of street artists as seen through the eyes of someone fascinated with the process. For a while, we are convinced this will be the movie's core focus, until it flips the switch at the halfway point and gives us something completely different to chew on. Many have speculated if the movie is a joke, and whether it is or not, it provides a discussion worthy portrait of the nature and intentions behind art, whether it be from the artist's point of view or the spectator's. Does art always have meaning, and does the artist always intend for it to? This just rips the lid off of one the many questions this movie dares us to ponder.

1) Toy Story 3 dir. Lee Unkrich

Yet another example of why Pixar corners the market in animated features, Toy Story 3 is a work of exceptional maturity and emotional honesty. It expands on the ideas of the first two movies by bravely (and unpredictably) taking its main characters, who always knew little Andy would grow up, and forcing them to finally realize they are only immortal for a limited time. The screwball banter and visual gags are still intact, and while they don't always succeed, they pave the way for some much darker territory. This is the first entry in the series that has seen any real consequences, or to put it more accurately, impending doom. By conveying these themes through Pixar's rich visuals (something that has become one of their trademarks), the movie is able to make us care for these toys more than we could have imagined. They aren't just play things anymore, but living entities with feelings (could we suggest they have a soul?). Let's hope this is the last entry in the series. The movie ends on a perfect and graceful note that lets the audience know nothing more needs to be said.

Thank you for visiting Hell and Beyond!

(c) Hell and Beyond, 2010

Breaking the Mold: The Best Movies of 2009

2010-01-10T14:21:00.000-08:00

As I looked back over the movies I saw in 2009, I realized that the best of the lot resembled the list I made in 2007. New and seasoned filmmakers shot for the moon, creating bold and risky visions of everything from the damages of heartbreak, to the trials of adolescence, to the decline of the world as we know it. There wasn't a consistent theme to the best of the year, which made putting them in a list all the more difficult. I've spoken with quite a few people who said they didn't see enough great movies in 2009 to make a top ten. I was struggling to figure out which movies would be left out of the top twenty. It was a strong year for movies, in other words, as plenty of filmmakers had something to say and did so in ways that were ambitious, original, and occasionally profound. So, here is my sum up, as best as I could put them in order. As usual, it is always subject to change, and when that is a dilemma, I'd say that's the sign of a good movie year.

LEE

Dishonorable Mentions (in alphabetical order): 12 Rounds, Avatar, Funny People, The Proposal, Terminator: Salvation, World's Greatest Dad, and Year One

Honorable Mentions (in alphabetical order): Anvil! The Story of Anvil, The Box, Crank: High Voltage, Drag Me to Hell, Gomorrah, The Imaginarium of Dr. Parnassus, The Limits of Control, Moon, A Perfect Getaway, Star Trek, Taken, Tetro, and You, the Living

The Next Ten

20) Coraline (dir. Henry Selick)
19) Sherlock Holmes (dir. Guy Ritchie)
18) A Serious Man (dir. Joel and Ethan Coen)
17) Martyrs (dir. Pascal Laugier)
16) The Hurt Locker (dir. Kathryn Bigelow)
15) Bright Star (dir. Jane Campion)
14) In the Loop (dir. Armando Iannucci)
13) 500 Days of Summer (dir. Marc Webb)
12) The Bad Lieutenant: Port of Call New Orleans (dir. Werner Herzog)
11) Stingray Sam (dir. Cory McAbee)

The Top Ten

10) Observe and Report (dir. Jody Hill)

I found myself stunned after the first ten minutes of Observe and Report to the point my mouth hung open for the entire run time. Part of it was due to the fearless performance by Seth Rogen (who I was ready to give up on before this), the other was my amazement a studio would green light a comedy this uncomfortable. In an age where comedies consider risk being how often they can gross you out, here's one that uses the same tactic as a way to test the audience, not shock them. I've seen the movie twice and I want to see it again, just so I can remind myself it actually exists.

9) Antichrist (dir. Lars von Trier)

One of the most talked about movies of the year for more reasons than one, Lars von Trier's latest is a strangely compelling and emotionally rich horror movie about dealing with guilt and the multiple meanings of the word, "nature." The movie effortlessly juggles themes involving sexuality, relationships, and gender differences, building to a conclusion that shows how emotional pain leads to the need for physical pain, particularly when dealing with regret and blame. I thought a lot about Milton while I watched Antichrist; it's not an easy movie, but I'll be damned if it's not a fascinating one. Put it on a double bill with The Exorcist.

8) The House of the Devil (dir. Ti West)

Ti West has amazingly, at the age of 29, already mastered the tricky art of building anticipation. His third feature is his best so far, a throwback horror picture that isn't about in jokes or pop culture references, but a dead serious and beautifully stylish movie about the dangers of babysitting for strangers. The gorgeous Jocelin Donahue carries the movie with grace and subtlety, and the legendary Tom Noonan gets to turn the creepiness factor up to eleven for the first time since Manhunter. If the payoff isn't as exhilarating as the tense and remarkably quiet buildup, it hardly matters because it is handled with a technical proficiency and maturity rarely seen in the genre anymore. West remembers what made horror movies special in the first place: sometimes your imagination is scarier than what's actually put in front of you.

7) Fantastic Mr. Fox (dir. Wes Anderson)

Every Wes Anderson movie with the exception of Bottle Rocket has made it onto my top ten list, but none of them have entertained in the way Fantastic Mr. Fox does. Anderson proves animation suites him well with this visually dazzling, consistently hilarious tale of a fox's desire to break out of his boring routine and do what's in his nature. Along the way, the director's signature father/son conflicts come into play, and as usual, they are handled with equal compassion and quirkiness. What surprises most is the way Anderson is also able to weave in, with warm humor and a touch of the profound, ideas about the consequences of war and finding one's sense of purpose. It's a perfect decade closer for the auteur filmmaker, as it opens a brand new door of possibilities for him. Let's hope the movie's box office failure won't hold him back from exploring this medium again.

6) Up (dir. Pete Docter and Bob Peterson)

While I do agree with the majority that the wordless prologue is perhaps the best thing Pixar has ever done, I will still argue that the movie that follows is pretty great as well. The opening scene sets the stage for a visually audacious journey of soul searching for Carl (Ed Asner), a widowed man who decides to literally take his house to the paradise he and his wife never visited. Along the way, he befriends a little boy in need of a father figure and finds out the truth about his childhood hero. The movie effectively captures the need to rediscover one's inner strength no matter the age, and how the images of those we look up to can be shattered when we learn who they really are. It's a thoroughly rich movie, complete with sequences of cliffhanging excitement, unexpected laughs, and emotional honesty. After the underwhelming trailer, Up turned out to be a real treat.

5) Adventureland (dir. Greg Mottola)

I love coming of age stories, even though most of them depend on tasteless gags or a lack of understanding the way teenagers really behave. Even though Greg Mottola's Superbad had its fair share of vulgarities, it still had a firm grasp on who its characters were, emotions and all. Mottola's follow up threatened to be the same movie but instead, it takes a completely different approach. The movie covers the awkward summer after college is over when you can't find a "real" job and girls are tired of boys and ready for men. Mottola builds the central romance with an admirable amount of restraint, using the setting and the music to establish the mood and create memories. An '80s soundtrack can often be a distraction but here, we see how each song will serve as a reminder to a magical moment experienced during a summer with a miserable job and a difficult romance. This is one of those rarities that you don't want to end, because the world the characters inhabit is comfortable and true.

4) Pontypool (dir. Bruce McDonald)

Most horror movies are all about visual style and gore, which is what makes Pontypool one of the biggest pleasures in quite some time. Taking place in one location and focusing on the confusion and then fear (and then confusion) of a disc jockey (a terrific Stephen McHattie) and a few other radio station employees, the movie is a savage critique on the world's slow decent into illiteracy and the potential danger of talk radio. Aside from that, I will say no more, for the unfolding of the events is how this picture hooks you. No one makes movies like this anymore, movies that have a brain and are still able to be a hell of a lot of fun and scarier than we might have expected. Who knew that a dialogue based movie, set in a basement, could have the ability to totally freak you out?

3) Two Lovers (dir. James Gray)

Although James Gray's movies keep getting better, nothing could have prepared me for the dramatic punch of his latest. A story of a lost soul (a never better Joaquin Phoenix) who ends up torn between two women, one as starved of love as he is and the other, needy and helpless, Two Lovers is as honest and unflinching a portrait of necessity and the longing for human connection as any I have seen. The movie features Gray's signature touch for making the viewer feel right at home within its community, an element that gives us a better understanding of why the characters are at this point in their fractured lives. The conclusion to the picture is nothing short of perfection as it brings into focus an ultimatum that isn't based on what the key character really wants, but what will adequately fill the void in his heart.

2) Where the Wild Things Are (dir. Spike Jonze)

Spike Jonze's collaborations with the great Charlie Kaufman adequately prepared him for Where the Wild Things Are, a intensely personal project that takes the ideas of the short and poetic source material and blows them up into one of bravest movies about the struggles of childhood ever made. Once Max (Max Records) gets to the island and meets his new friends, we begin to experience why he is so hostile and frustrated on the inside. Max still doesn't know why he is a part of the world, whether it be the real one or the creation of his psyche, a conflict the movie plays out sans sugar coating or quick answers. Being human is not easy, and as Max learns, trying to confide in creatures of the imagination is not much easier when all you know are scarred human emotions. It's thick stuff, but when it's all said and done, there's no question that a light does shine dimly at the end of the tunnel. It's up to us to decide how much brighter it will get.

1) Inglourious Basterds (dir. Quentin Tarantino)

How appropriate it is that the best movie of the final year of the decade is about the movies! I was a product of the Tarantino generation, and feel that I am better moviegoer for it. While others complained about his lack of originality, I was learning about how to love the movies; not just through his, but because of his. Tarantino borrows the framework, but what fills it is completely his. The man has evolved into a genius due to how he carefully explores the themes at hand, mostly through the behaviors and decisions of his characters. Inglourious Basterds, like his pictures before it, revolves around people who get in over their heads. But what Tarantino makes clear as always is that the mistakes belong to the characters, not him; everything that happens is so because they made it that way. This idea runs wild in Basterds like never before, as Tarantino lovingly toys with his audience by always keeping us in the moment, a tactic that he winds so tight we can never anticipate what he'll throw at us next. It's a movie lover's dream, a picture so enthralled with how movies effect us (and deviously trick us) that it hardly matters if the pieces fit coherently. That's not the point. The movies have the power to play by their own rules, and Tarantino understands this, hell he embraces it, as much as any filmmaker alive. We're lucky to have him.

Thank you for visiting Hell and Beyond!

(c) Hell and Beyond, 2010

A Time of Reflection: The Decade in Film

2009-12-15T21:48:00.000-08:00

Wow. I sit here preparing to look back on the last decade of film, and the thought that keeps creeping in is that the first ten years of the 2000's are actually about to come to a close. How can that be? I feel like I just got started. The decade began with getting a job as a movie theater projectionist, which turned out to be as close to a zen moment as any I can remember. Things only went uphill from there. I finally finished college, wrote three drafts of a screenplay, bought and sold my first home, became an uncle, and constantly wondered what my life would be like when 2010 hit. The fact that I still don't know is not too surprising. It's harder to figure out than I could have ever imagined.

2000 was the first year my work as a movie reviewer was read by others outside of family and friends. I got to experience what it was like to get feedback from people who didn't know me and weren't able to identify with what I had said because of who I was. It was eye opening to say the least, but it was also more exciting than anything I have felt as a writer. The love and hate that was given based on something I had written truly touched me. Knowing that people out there had a real reaction to my point of view was the first time, in my mind, that I deserved to call myself a writer.

Writing about movies has changed me. It's made me look at myself differently, it's made me think differently, and, as cheesy as it sounds, it's made me grow. Film criticism is what has defined me over the last ten years. Even if I haven't written as much as I would have liked, the fact that I am always able to talk about them and continue to think about them has made me happier and more complete than I ever knew it could. And I have no doubts that it's because movies are such a wonderful and personal way for people to connect. It opens up our emotions and gives us reasons to laugh or argue or cry. That thrills me.

I've been going through the movies I've seen over the last ten years, working for months to try and pick the ones that were the best of the bunch, with the end result usually being frustration or confusion. How could I possibly put them in order? Then one day it came to me. I thought about how each choice affected me at that point in my life, and about which ones had broken into the chambers of my heart and soul. The list went through many revisions. So, here it is. My choices for the best movies of the decade. The decade when I began to think critically, meaning it was okay to hate a movie even if everyone else loved it and love a movie even if everyone else hated it. At the core, it didn't matter because I knew how I was going to express my feelings about it.

I love movies. I love writing about movies. I know deep inside that this will never change. This is who I am, and so with that in mind, I am proud to share my very first list looking back at the best of the decade. Thanks to all who have ever taken the time to read what I write. This is as much for you as it is for me, and here's to the next ten years when hopefully, we'll do this again.

-LEE

Ten Honorable Mentions (in alphabetical order)

Catch Me If You Can, A History of Violence, Kill Bill, King Kong, The New World, Oldboy, Once, There Will Be Blood, Wendigo, Wonder Boys

The Top Ten

10) The Incredibles (2004) dir. Brad Bird

One of the few movies I've seen twice in the same day at the theater, Brad Bird's second feature is the rarest of rarities: an animated feature with more humanity, thrilling action, and thematic resonance than most live action efforts.

9) Lost in Translation (2003) dir. Sofia Coppola

A haunting, funny and beautiful character piece that perfectly captures the need for human connection in an unfamiliar setting. The performances by Bill Murray and Scarlett Johansson are so real they transcend the screen, which makes us exhilarated that we are lost with them.

8) Inglourious Basterds (2009) dir. Quentin Tarantino

More so than any of his other features, Tarantino's latest proves without a doubt that he is not a derivative filmmaker but a true auteur. His understanding and passion of film has led to his greatest achievement, a movie that's not only about loving the movies, but also about how it gives the filmmaker the power to express themselves by whatever means they feel are necessary (even if it means changing history).

7) The Royal Tenenbaums (2001) dir. Wes Anderson

I loved all four movies Wes Anderson made this decade, but this was the only one that reminded me of a British novel. Anderson is one of the few writers we have who is able to carefully balance quirk, heartbreak, and the disappointment a child feels toward their father (and does it with multiple characters).

6) Bom yeoreum gaeul gyeoul geurigo bom (Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter...and Spring) (2003) dir. Ki-duk Kim

As profound a meditation on spirituality and faith as I have seen, Ki-duk Kim's masterpiece paints its messages through the stages of a man's life, from his childhood mistakes through his temptations as an adult. What sets the movie apart from others with the same themes is the way that redemption is achieved through painstaking acts of patience.

5) The American Astronaut (2001) dir. Cory McAbee

I first discovered Cory McAbee the filmmaker, then found the musician, and lastly was introduced to his drawings. In other words, he's the true definition of an artist, and his debut feature embraces all three of his talents in ways I have not seen before. The movie is a hybrid of musical, western, and science fiction, with each genre playing an important part, thus receiving equal respect. Even more than being a stunning piece of filmmaking, it's more fun than you could possibly imagine.

4) Adaptation. (2002) dir. Spike Jonze

What could have been self indulgent is instead a better examination of how art affects the artist than any biopic you will ever find. Nicolas Cage proves he's above most roles he takes with brilliant dual performances as two brothers, both struggling to make it as screenwriters and regular human beings. But the truly special aspect of the movie is the clever, ingenious screenplay by Charlie Kaufman, a writer who wears his heart on his sleeve like no one I have encountered. By making himself a character in the movie, his pain becomes ours.

3) The Fountain (2006) dir. Darren Aronofsky

The greatest testament to the pain and sacrifices of love I have seen, made all the more powerful knowing what writer/director Aronofsky went through to get it made. The ones who criticized the picture for being goofy obviously weren't paying attention, as every scene is packed with symbols and metaphors pertaining to a romance that, as far as we can tell, has survived through three lifetimes. The key is wanting to give yourself up to it, a task made as tough and worthwhile as love itself.

2) Mulholland Dr. (2001) dir. David Lynch

David Lynch's movies are the stuff of our dreams and nightmares, and while there are certain ones that have heavily disturbed me (like Eraserhead), this is the first one that has hit me on multiple levels. It's a movie about the dangers of success and how that leads to the loss of identity, told as expected through Lynch's head spinning kaleidoscope. The movie understands the price of fame and the risks people will take to have it, and while some scenes certainly enchant, there are also plenty that terrify. Lynch has something to say, but he also wants to remind us we're watching a movie by giving us laughs, scares, romance, mystery, and action. When it came out in 2001, I already knew I would not see a better example of pure cinema throughout the decade.

1) Synecdoche, New York (2008) dir. Charlie Kaufman

Charlie Kaufman is the greatest screenwriter of my generation, a statement I can say with the most confidence after seeing his directorial debut. The first time I saw it, I was speechless and sad while the second time, I felt the movie had a strange understanding of who I really am, of my hopes and fears. But what really spoke to me was the movie's testament to the process of aging, and the desire to do something meaningful before it all comes to an end. Kaufman explores the themes by showcasing how difficult it is to live, ranging from having a real connection with another person, to grasping how to let go of them if you ever do. What the movie teaches us more than anything is that life is short and life is hard, so you better leave your mark before it's too late. Charlie Kaufman has already done that with his first feature. I have no doubts he'll make other great movies, but I don't think any will strike the chord that this one does. It's the movie this decade that made me examine how precious life is, and why it is important to embrace every moment of it.

Thank you for visiting Hell and Beyond!

(c) Hell and Beyond, 2009

Giving Life to His Inner Child: David Cronenberg's The Brood

2009-10-09T11:29:00.000-07:00

The first work to announce David Cronenberg as a filmmaker destined for greatness, The Brood is at once unsettling and terrifying in ways that few movies are. It's full of rich ideas and ultra disturbing images, setting the stage for what we would come to expect from Cronenberg from here on out. There isn't a single light or happy moment in the picture; this is obviously the work of a man who holds some bitterness towards his younger years and has finally found a way to channel it. That The Brood is such a personal work is what essentially makes it so effective. This is a horror movie in which the filmmaker clearly wants you to feel every painful detail of what's trapped in his psyche.

The picture opens on a strange and uncomfortable note, as psychiatrist Dr. Hal Raglan (Oliver Reed) probes one of his patients in front of an audience. The two characters are surrounded in darkness, hence engulfing them in isolation. Raglan chastises the patient, calling him weak and comparing him to a girl since he is acting emotional and frail. This is the first of many moments where Cronenberg will examine the way the gender of the parent affects how they treat the gender of the child. The picture shifts then from this fake father/son (or daughter) moment to an actual father/daughter relationship between Frank (Art Hindle) and Candice (Cindy Hinds). They are at the institution because Frank's wife (and Cindy's mother) Nola (Samantha Eggar) is there being treated by Dr. Raglan.

Nola has mommy and daddy issues that still haven't gone away, and she won't be OK until she lets them out (literally). We get a sense from the scenes with Dr. Raglan that being a parent is a thankless role, as your children will blame you for everything that goes wrong in their lives. Nola seems to have a strong maternal instinct - according to her, mommies don't hurt their own children (Candice has bruises on her back that Frank believes Nola is responsible for) and if she was to, it would be because her parents did it to her. It's appropriate, of course, that Candice looks exactly like Nola, since we can already anticipate that she is going to grow into her mother. She's an unusually serious child, one who seems incapable of relaxing and having fun.

The movie's first truly striking visual occurs early in the picture when milk is spilled on the floor. It's a powerful visual due to the fact that we're witnessing a symbol of nurturing destroyed, an early indicator that there will not be any chance of redemption for the mother or child. Cronenberg has doomed them, and there is no turning back. The image is followed by the brutal murder of Nola's mother by a child in a hooded jacket (echoes of Don't Look Now?), an act that brings the woman's ex-husband back into town. The dangerous consequences of marriage are brought back into play once he arrives, devastated by the death of his ex-wife mostly due to his failures as a husband and a father (to make matters worse, he's become a drunk).

Nola's dad is the second to die at the hands of the hooded child. Fascinating, of course, that her parents both are murdered by rabid children. That things happen this way comes as no surprise, since they had to be punished for turning their daughter into a crazy person. Frank has a run in with the little monster, kills it, and sees its face, which is distorted and adult like. What Cronenberg is showing here is Nola's frustrations finally breaking free - she's found a way to put the traumas of her childhood to rest by giving birth to an inner child (a series of them, actually), their purpose being to take away any potential threats to her or her daughter.

Cronenberg sets up themes in The Brood that will become a staple in his career, the biggest being the dysfunctional nature of relationships between men and women (and parents and children). In his world, experiencing childhood is the equivalent to experiencing trauma, and it will inevitably lead to an adulthood of insanity. There's no god in Cronenberg's movies, because the ones who deserve to be saved cannot be and will not be. Bleak for sure, but Cronenberg is able to convey this belief so well it comes off as profound instead of simply depressing.

The movie is full of classic scenes that we will come to expect in most every Cronenberg picture, the signature one here of Nola opening her robe to reveal an inner child that is attached and growing out of her (the grotesque factor is raised once she opens the womb and begins to lick the baby). It's a startling moment in a movie full of hair raising moments, many of the best involving those freaky hooded kids (a scene where they go after Candice's teacher is a standout). Also powerful is a scene where photos of Candice's bruises are casually spread out across her stuffed animals. In the end, though, the scariest (and most tragic, as Cronenberg's movies often are) image in The Brood is the final one, a close up of Candice's silently traumatized face. This is the moment where everything in the picture has come full circle - any chance, if there ever was one, of this child having a normal life is lost forever.

The Brood is a complex and intriguing work, but it is not one of Cronenberg's masterpieces (of which there have been a handful). If the picture suffers from anything, it's too much exposition. Instead of giving the audience a real opportunity to hypothesize where the killer children came from, it gets spelled out to us through dialogue right before the conclusion. I don't know if this was a studio decision or his, but whatever the case, it takes the trust away from the audience and puts it back in the filmmaker's hands. It's a relatively small complaint ultimately, mainly because Cronenberg got away from it soon after. Revisiting The Brood at this point in his career is exciting and a bit distressing, the former because it reminds of how Cronenberg has the ability to get under one's skin, the latter because the auteur has detoured into movies more conventional and easy. Let's hope he still has movies like this up his sleeve. The future of filmmaking depends on it.

Thank you for visiting Hell and Beyond!

(c) Hell and Beyond, 2009

The King of Pulp

2009-08-16T11:33:00.000-07:00

"I don't believe in elitism. I don't think the audience is this dumb person lower than me. I am the audience."

Karaoke. Derivative. Imitation. These are just some of the words often used to describe the work of Quentin Tarantino, and if you simply take what's on screen at face value, that's likely what you'll get. But once you begin to peel back the layers and search for the true center of a Tarantino picture, you'll see that the window dressing (which is always gorgeous and occasionally sublime) is the smallest piece of the puzzle. There's a purpose to all of it. No question that Tarantino is obsessed with film and those that inspired him. Instead of simply taking images and ideas of the past and throwing them up on screen, Tarantino gives these genres and conventions he cherishes a new and exciting sense of purpose. With each picture, he is able to find a way to re-invent existing forms of cinema and most amazingly, he often does it better than it was done originally.

Tarantino's story is the kind that any person who wants to make movies would love to have. He worked in a video store, watched movies constantly, and talked movies constantly. Saying he watched movies, though, is a very loose way of putting it. Tarantino absorbed movies; he soaked in every element of their being and tried to figure out how he could express himself through what others had done (at a recent screenwriting workshop, the key advice was to take the ideas from other movies and find a way to make them your own). He learned how to be a filmmaker by doing nothing more than watching films. While that approach certainly might not work for everyone, it worked for him. And since he had certain genres he loved, his career began with one of the most exhausted phrases around: write what you know.

Getting in good with the right people helped get his debut feature, Reservoir Dogs, made. The movie revolves around a group of strangers who are brought together to pull off a diamond heist and as expected, it goes horribly wrong. What stands out most about the picture is the amount of confidence exhibited. Most directors choosing this as their first project would focus on the amount of gritty violence they could get onscreen. Hell, they'd probably open the picture with the climactic showdown. Instead of doing what the audience expects from this type of feature, Tarantino opens with a scene of dialogue. And it's not just a conversation between two people, but a round table of people. To take things a step further, instead of giving us tough guys spouting off a bunch of macho bullshit, Tarantino has these men, people I probably wouldn't want to meet in a dark alley, discussing everything from the meaning of Madonna's Like a Virgin to the reason why you should tip at a restaurant.

It's a spectacular way to take your audience off guard. We get sucked in by these hardened criminals having an everyday conversation and then, after we've gotten comfortable, Tarantino throws in the big whammy by taking us from the safe and relaxed environment of a restaurant, to the crammed and claustrophobic setting of a car (complete with a bleeding and screaming man in the back seat). In between the two scenes, during the opening credit sequence, Tarantino gives the audience the first of what would become one of his trademarks: the soundtrack. The song during the credits of the picture is a clear way to establish the mood of the piece. Before it fades to black for the credit reel, there has to a moment where the music accompanies a series of shots of the guys on their way to work: cool, sleek, confident. Had that been the first thing we saw in the movie, it would have felt like a gimmick. Since Tarantino let us spend some time with his characters so we could get a feel for who they were, this payoff is earned.

Reservoir Dogs set up a theme that would run through all of his projects, that of the likable criminal. All of the characters, aside from maybe undercover cop Mr. Orange (Tim Roth), are bad guys. They're honorable, sure, but they make their living robbing, stealing and hurting others. To Tarantino, that doesn't matter. He still wants us to like them. Even more than that, he wants us to be a part of their world. The camera is clearly an active observer in the picture, in turn making it a character all its own. Beginning with the scene in the car, which is full of quick pans, it's obvious that we are meant to be like a nervous third party. Tarantino's style is inviting due to long takes and limited movement. His camera is often leery of getting too close to what's being shared between the characters. It's almost as if he's trying to keep us out of harm's way. During the movie's most violent moment, the camera actually pans away until it's over.

The movie introduced us to Tarantino's love for dialogue. I already mentioned opening the picture with a full dialogue scene, which is a difficult thing to do unless you know you can pull in your audience. Tarantino does, and he continues to stretch the idea that the dialogue will drive the movie as it progresses. The main setting in the picture is an ugly, abandoned warehouse. At first, we might wonder why he would choose such an unsavory looking place to have the key action occur, but the dialogue moves so fast (it is the action) we are able to forget where we are. And by telling the story in a non-linear fashion (another Tarantino trademark), it keeps our involvement peaked since there are so many pieces to the puzzle still not on the table.

There's never any question that we are listening to dialogue that has been scripted. A statement like that is usually grounds for criticism, but not in the case of Tarantino, since his characters say things worth listening to. To go a step further, what the characters say is as important as how they say it. As good as the dialogue may be, if it is not delivered in the right context, it will come off like a bunch of colorful phrases. When it comes to casting, Tarantino has a knack for finding the right people to bring his words to life, and often it's an actor we would never expect. In the case of Reservoir Dogs, the award goes to Tim Roth, who was relatively unknown at the time.

If Reservoir Dogs suffers from a weakness, it's that the characters' constant yelling gets exhausting in spots. Since everyone in the movie is confused and in suspense about who survived the robbery, there's a lot of tension between those who got out. Tarantino tries to rattle the nerves by having the characters in each other faces, and it gets a lot of mileage early on but loses some of its punch during the last third. Through it all, we do wonder who will emerge as the hero, since Tarantino has made us fond of these characters. Interestingly, especially when you look at his future works, no one earns redemption here. Every good deed, no matter how large, ends in punishment. I'm not saying this was a bad decision because, true to its director's form, it stays in tune with the genre from which it was stemmed.

I was a senior in high school when Pulp Fiction came out. Due to its victory at Cannes (and from watching Siskel & Ebert, of course), I had heard lots about the movie, but I still don't think I was even close to prepared for the experience I got. The best way I can sum up the movie is by comparing it to Jack Rabbit Slim's: jam packed with nostalgia. When Tarantino sat down to write Pulp Fiction, he must have used a checklist of every element he loves about the movies. I can't recall another movie I have seen that crosses over into so many genres and does it with the amount of balance that Pulp Fiction does. When I saw it for the first time, it damn near blindsided me. I walked out of it wondering what the hell I had just seen, and god knows I was more than prepared to go back again right away (I went back to the theatre nine more times).

The movie set an immeasurably high bar for other up and coming filmmakers. So many of them tried to duplicate what Tarantino had done, with disastrous results. Tarantino's imitators really ended up becoming exactly what his critics had falsely labeled him of being. Young directors everywhere tried to jump on the bandwagon to see if they make their criminals talk and act as cool as Tarantino's, but none of them ever came close. It's not a stretch for me to say that Pulp Fiction is the most influential movie of my generation.

The movie's opening sequence takes what Reservoir Dogs did and ups the stakes. The first movie began with a conversation between lots of people covering a number of different topics. This time, it's two people, sitting at a booth, discussing one thing. Tarantino throws us into the middle of the conversation, so we will be eager to find out what these people are talking about and hopefully catch up. His shots are mostly perspective, so we feel as if we are being spoken to (perspective will become an important tool for him from this point forward). And he ends the scene with an unexpected burst of hostility that immediately lets us know that in this movie, anything is possible.

Tarantino extends on this idea with his choice of songs during the credits. It starts with Misirlou by Dick Dale and then leads into Jungle Boogie by Kool and the Gang. The first is intense but catchy, while the second shifts gears completely and is fun and laid back. After the credits are over, we don't know what to expect. The sky's the limit. The second conversation, which is between two hitmen on their way to do a job, is an even trickier scene to pull off because it's two people talking in a car. As soon as we hear what they're talking about (Quarter Pounder with cheese in Paris, mayonnaise on french fries), the setting becomes less problematic and interest shifts to how Tarantino is introducing the characters. The shot begins from outside the passenger window so we are able to see both characters. This shot holds until we have gotten involved in the conversation and at that point, Tarantino cuts to a series of intimate close ups. There's no need for a comfort zone anymore. We're a part of these lives now.

Tarantino revisits some of his camera styles from Reservoir Dogs, such as the camera lingering at one end of a hallway while the characters talk at the other end. It's a brilliant device because once again, it makes the camera a character in the scene and helps the viewer forget that they are sitting in a theater, "watching" a movie. This is taken a step further in the same scene once the two hitmen are standing in front of a door, still talking before they knock. The camera is positioned behind them, but it is positioned low enough that we can't see over their shoulders. We're like the awkward third wheel, stuck in the back with no choice but to listen and wonder what could possibly be on the other side of the door.

It's a brilliant slow build up to some kind of action, and once the hitmen enter the apartment, Tarantino shows his natural capability for making a scene funny and scary at the same time. The people they've come to visit know they're in deep shit but one of the hitmen, Jules (Samuel L. Jackson), takes the time to have a casual conversation with them, as if having meaningless chit chat will make it easier to get the information he needs. The dialogue, as fun as it is, also functions as a device to help build the suspense. We are enjoying the hell out of what is being said, at the same time wondering when Jules, whose eyes look like they could start a forest fire, is going to explode.

There are a handful of scenes in Pulp Fiction that do this, the best being when Vincent (John Travolta) takes his boss's wife, Mia (Uma Thurman), out to dinner. Their uncomfortable and shy attraction (all built through glances) leads us to believe the suspense is going to revolve around whether anything sexual is going to happen between them, but Tarantino never takes the easy route. Instead, he has her overdose snorting heroin, leading Vincent to take her to his dealer's house to see if he knows how to revive her. The whole scene could have played as melodrama but instead, Tarantino milks uneasy laughs out of the argument between Vincent and his dealer in hopes we will let our guard down, leaving us totally unprepared for what will have to be done to save Mia. The cutting of the last part of the scene, where Vincent has to plunge a hypodermic needle into Mia's chest, is nothing short of ingenious.

The situation with Vincent shows a running thread in Pulp Fiction: bad people doing things and getting in over their heads. Of course, Tarantino seems more interested in the fact he's putting these characters in situations where they need our sympathy. It's a testament to his craft as a writer and a director that we actually care what happens (and we don't want a bad outcome). He throws his characters into creatively bizarre predicaments, such as Vincent dealing with Mia's OD. The best of the bunch is a hilariously nightmarish sequence where Butch (Bruce Willis) unexpectedly runs into gangster Marsellus Wallace (Ving Rhames) after screwing him out of a lot of money. The chase that follows gets them both kidnapped and thrown into an underground S & M dungeon.

I believe Tarantino chooses actors for the way they talk as much as the way they look. He is a master at finding people whose voices draw us in long before we see their faces. Look at the scene where we first meet Butch as he's getting propositioned by Marsellus. The first part of the scene is one take of Butch's face as Marsellus talks to him. Eventually, we are able to forget that Butch is even there and are wondering who is talking to him (all we know is that he sounds like someone who is not to be messed with). To heighten our anticipation, Tarantino then cuts to a close up of the back of Marsellus's bald head, which stands out due to a band aid positioned near his neck. Even after getting put through the ringer, Tarantino does not let us see Marsellus's face until much later in the movie.

You can tell by watching the performances that casting is a joy for Tarantino. He's been lucky enough to work with whoever he's wanted, mainly because joining one of his projects is like being invited onto a personal playground. This approach has led to career best work and career revivals, beginning of course with John Travolta in Pulp Fiction. Did anyone think such a thing would be possible? The key scene for Travolta, of course, comes in the center of the movie when Mia signs him up for a twist contest. This goes back to where we started, about how Tarantino is not an imitator. Instead of having Travolta dance as we remember, he lets the actor cut loose, and the scene (which could have been a cheap novelty act) plays as further build up of sexual tension for the two dance partners.

When talking about Reservoir Dogs, I mentioned that there is no redemption for the characters. You could say then, that Tarantino grew up with Pulp Fiction, because even though these people do things that should make them void of being saved, Tarantino gives most of them a chance to see the light. The ones that choose not to meet an unfortunate end (look at Vincent's denial of God's intervention after being shot at and not hit). The willingness to believe his characters deserve this type of salvation shows enormous maturity for Tarantino as a filmmaker. He could have easily taken the same route as his debut and made all of his characters go down in a poetic blaze of glory. Instead, since we've invested as much in them as he has, they are each given a choice.

After the enormous success of Pulp Fiction, it only seems appropriate Tarantino would settle down and try to do something different for his follow up. Of course, since there was a world of hype surrounding what he would do next, it was almost destined to be a disappointment for most of his fans on principal. That statement is why it makes perfect sense that the haters of Pulp Fiction (and most anything else Tarantino has done) really like Jackie Brown; it's easily the most un-Tarantino of Tarantino's movies. Sure, it's still got the rapid fire dialogue and the non-linear story telling, but it also has a concrete plot, a decent and honest character, and a love story.

The movie began a major turning point for Tarantino that has stood front and center in every movie he's made since this one: it has a strong female character. That's not to say there aren't still tough men, but they prove to be no match for the woman standing in front of them. In Tarantino's world, if you fuck with a woman, you will pay dearly. Jackie (Pam Grier) doesn't look like she could be intimidating when we first meet her during the movie's opening credits, which are set to the smooth sound of Bobby Womack's Across 110th Street. The vibe is more laid back than what we're used to, so the last thing we expect is that we're about to be taken into a story of crime and double crossings. And Jackie's relaxed look makes us wonder if the character is going to be a push over. Since this is Tarantino, though, that is wishful thinking.

Jackie is, like Tarantino's bad male characters, someone who has gotten in over her head. The difference is she's not a bad person; she's just mixed up with some shady people. What both sides of the law don't yet know is that even if she agrees to play ball with their schemes, things will not turn out like they expected. Jackie's much smarter than she pretends to be, and it's to Tarantino's credit that, while Jackie does have a sassy attitude, she's not interested in kicking ass and taking names. If anything, she just wants to get out of the whole complicated situation without getting arrested or killed. This, of course, will prove to be her redemption when she comes out the other side.

The male characters in the movie underestimate her. The cops think their tough guy act will scare her into cooperating, and the man she's illegally bringing in money for, Ordell (Samuel L. Jackson, more or less playing Jules again), believes he has the upper hand. The first half of the movie consists of signature Tarantino: the large gallery of characters and the lightning sharp dialogue. Most involving is the dynamic that grows between Jackie and her bail bondsman, Max Cherry (Robert Forster). He's the only person she can trust because as far as she can tell, he's the only one not out to screw her over. He's just a lonely guy trying to make an honest living, which is precisely why she can confide in him. He's the first male character in a Tarantino movie who isn't a criminal of some sort.

The cast in the movie is the most impressive Tarantino has had behind Pulp Fiction. Aside from Grier, Jackson, and Forster, the lineup also includes Robert DeNiro, Michael Keaton, and Bridget Fonda. Each actor gets at least one memorable moment, but aside from Grier's subtle performance, the warmest surprise is Robert Forster's portrayal as Max (he's this movie's Travolta in the comeback category). His relationship with Jackie builds as she plans her scheme against the slippery Ordell, earning in the end a tragic kiss that is the most poignant moment we are likely to see in a Tarantino picture. Unexpected? Hell yes, and that's what makes it all the more rewarding. Also to Tarantino's credit is the way he uses a song by the Delfonics to show the importance of Jackie to Max.

Technically, Tarantino stays on track. The movie is filled with deliciously long takes where once again the camera acts as an observer. The dialogue during the early scenes makes us forget that the shots are lingering because the topics at hand are as interesting as they are aimless. Tarantino gets a kick out of just letting his creations interact with each other, so at that point in the picture, I was fine with the fact they weren't really necessary to the plot. However, once the second half starts, the movie becomes more concerned with the intricate details of Jackie's plan, leading the whole affair to run on a bit too long. It's for this reason that I think Tarantino works best when he's not trying to focus on the unfolding of a story. The rhythm of his dialogue loses some of its flare once it is all about getting to the finish.

I love the fact Tarantino made Jackie Brown early in his career. Not because I dislike it, by any means, but because I think it gave him a chance to experiment with elements we wouldn't have expected. I'd be thrilled to see him make another movie like it in hopes that next time, the love story will be a bigger piece of the pie than the crime story. That is, unless the two sides are married as well as they were in True Romance. Ever wonder what it would have been like if Tarantino had directed it?

As kick ass as it would be to see the Kill Bill movies put together, it makes as much sense to keep them apart. While the movies are similar thematically, the approach to each is so radically different that I feel the combination could ruin the effect they achieve individually. It's sad that so many accused Kill Bill Vol. 1 of being nothing more than empty style, because I think they've missed the point. Yes, the style is the substance in a lot of ways, but what's buried into the style is exuberant and thorny. The first time I saw it, I simply let myself get wowed by the imagery. The second and third time I had a blast finding the sly treasures Tarantino has buried within.

A great filmmaker is always one step ahead, which is one of the reasons why Kill Bill Vol. 1 is a perfect set up for the movie that follows it. As usual, Tarantino has plenty of tricks up his sleeves. The movie opens with an effective and discomforting close up of a woman's sweaty face as she is being spoken to by a man who obviously has sinister plans for her. The voice is stern and menacing, getting back to what I said in regards to Pulp Fiction about keeping a face off screen and establishing a character based on how they talk. The dialogue is brutal, making it appropriate that it ends with a literal splatter of blood.

And then Tarantino throws us right into the action, told out of order of course. Despite this, the post credits scene sets the stage for the most important theme of the Kill Bill movies: motherhood. As The Bride (Uma Thurman) arrives to take out the first member (a woman who has gone from warrior to housewife) of the squad that tried to kill her, she walks on to a suburban lawn covered with toys. Once they begin fighting in the house, there's a shot of each woman at the edges of the frame and a school bus in between them. And there we have the only tie that could bind them. Of course, a child enters the house, so the maternal side takes over for the enemy but for The Bride, the fact this woman is a mother is of little consequence. She was pregnant when they left her for dead and as a result, she believes her child is dead. Even though she should feel bad about leaving this child without a mother, The Bride's compassion is replaced by honesty. This is what she has to do.

Tarantino has taken his idea of the strong, confident woman to a completely new level and turned men into monsters with little chance of redemption. This applies mostly to Bill (David Carradine), her former lover, who she is prepared to kill without remorse for taking the life she wanted to have (without him) away. But it first comes into focus when The Bride wakes from a coma and kills the creepy hospital orderly who raped her (and let others rape her) while she was asleep. It is here that the movie introduces the concept of women upstaging men with its blatant use of phallic symbols doing serious damage. It starts small by showing a mosquito sucking on The Bride's arm, and then grows to a needle, and then later becomes a sword. For Tarantino, having the weapon (or instrument, as it is referred to in the picture, since one must be skilled to use it) is not as important as the damage it does. Every blow from The Bride's sword is an act of penetration (or castration), and note how the blood sprays, almost as if the wound is ejaculating. Tarantino has found a way to take the idea of blood being baptismal and flipped it over.

There's a great deal of slicing and dicing in Vol.1. Tarantino's other movies have had their share of violence, but it was always handled in a way that actual contact between weapon and victim was kept off screen (or out of frame). This time he goes for broke, staging an elaborate fight between The Bride and a fighting team called The Crazy 88's. It's the first time his camera has been brave enough to want to see the damage being done. In other words, The Bride's cause is one worth witnessing in every gory detail. Interesting then, that the camera does not feel as much like a character as it did in the other pictures. In addition, Kill Bill Vol. 1 is the first visually appealing Tarantino movie. It's filled with lovely and bright popping colors, and he works with every shot composition he can conjure up. His framing is thoroughly creative throughout, often letting supposedly meaningless things in the shot take center stage over the central action (look at the climactic fight scene in the snow and see where he places a fountain).

In the midst of all the experimentation with the camera, Tarantino even throws in an animated sequence to tell a back story (which is appropriate given it is through the eyes of a child, so it needs to appear larger than life). The entire thing plays like a Greek tragedy, with Tarantino using blood in a more poetic way than I've seen in quite some time. It's a tribute to his attention to detail, the idea that every single piece of a movie is important. Nothing is on screen just to fill up space.

Tarantino's classic themes stay intact, that of bad people with dignity. Even when Bill discovers The Bride is still alive and could easily have her killed, he decides to let her live so she can have the opportunity to track him down. He knows well and good that she deserves her revenge, and his death will be her redemption. Plus, as we find out in the movie's splendid final scene cliffhanger, her daughter is still alive. It's a fantastic bookend to the movie's beginning and an opening into the core of what Vol. 2 will be about, even though its tone is quite different.

Tarantino pulled a classic bait and switch on the audience with the Kill Bill movies. Normally, we'd expect the first part to be dialogue heavy and the second part, the blood soaked climax. Doing this, though, would have taken away the potency of the pictures and stripped away The Bride's humanity. By reversing the way the movies play, Tarantino wisely gives us a chance to develop sympathy for The Bride and truly feel that she deserves her revenge by the end. It'd be easy to say we already know she deserves it due to the way Vol. 1 opens, and a lesser filmmaker would say seeing what happened to her is enough. But Tarantino cares more about her than that. He wants us to understand who she is.

Vol. 1 represents the first time Tarantino has let images speak more than the words. It's rewarding because he is such a splendid craftsman (and many of the images do speak as beautifully as his dialogue), and maybe the lack of memorable dialogue was the point. Vol. 1 could have functioned as a tease so Tarantino could unleash what he does best for the finale. The picture opens with a rehearsal for The Bride's wedding to her new husband, a man who has no idea who she really is. When she walks out of the church to get some air, we are treated to the sight of Bill for the first time as he plays a flute. It's a powerful sight, because without him even speaking, we're able to sense his sadness and anger at seeing that The Bride is still alive.

It is at this moment that we understand why he shot her. Bill is not a nice man, so wanting to kill her for breaking his heart seems like the route he would take (as he explains to her at the end of the picture). He knows this woman inside out, and knows above all that a "normal" life is not an option for her. There's a terrific flow to their dialogue as they make up for lost time. Bill is The Bride's family, which provides the first half of the bookends that the movie will hold (the other half comes at the conclusion when The Bride re-unites with her daughter). Along with motherhood, the love and acceptance of family is the key to Vol. 2. The conversation between Bill and The Bride and the act that follows is the perfect illustration of how the ones we are closest to are often the ones that make us the most vulnerable and are most capable of betraying us.

Tarantino cleverly makes what Bill did to The Bride seem like an act of love. Late in the movie, we learn from Bill's father figure that his reaction to her leaving him was a reflection on the way he was raised. It's amazing how well Bill's compassion is shown considering how little he is in the movie. Look for instance, at the moment we see the sword Bill gave his brother, complete with an engraving that says, "To my brother Budd, the only man I ever loved." The sword is, as Bill puts it, "priceless," and to the owner it was, but not in the traditional sense of the word. To see an even different angle, observe the way Bill carefully makes a sandwich for his daughter while he tells a story (the attention to detail is what counts).

When The Bride finally reaches Bill and sees that their daughter is still alive, her main objective is to keep the child from taking the same path she did. The first time they see each other, Bill and the little girl "pretend" to shoot The Bride and they all "play" dead. This is the perception their daughter has of life and death. As we soon hear when Bill describes how she found out death was real after her goldfish fell on the floor, it's evident she knows there is a difference, but still lacks the complexity to understand how permanent it is. The compelling idea in these scenes is realizing that each parent would probably take a different approach when explaining a subject they each know so much about. How do you make a child understand the finality of death, but even more so, how do you rationalize it when it's part of you job?

Learning she's still a mother changes everything for The Bride. As we've seen throughout, there's no doubt she still has no problem killing Bill, even if he is the father. But it lets us know just how important the idea of being a mother was to her (she was willing to give up everything). The best scene in the movie to me is the moment The Bride finds out she is pregnant while on an assignment. The assissin sent to kill her is a woman, so The Bride knows she can gain some sympathy since she is concerned for the well being of her unborn child. It's a fabulous moment, one of the best Tarantino has ever written. It is here more than ever that we are able to see that he's so much more than just a "genre" filmmaker. This is a writer who with a true understanding of what makes us human.

I think Kill Bill Vol. 2 is as great as anything Tarantino has done so far precisely for that reason. This is the picture where he, more so even than in Jackie Brown, wrote great dialogue as he always does and gives it to characters who could possibly exist in a world outside of the movies. I'm not saying it doesn't feel scripted, but it does threaten to finally break the wall down between fantasy and reality. He hasn't quite done that yet. I don't know if he ever will (and that's not a criticism). The thought of not getting to hear another speech similar to Bill's theory on Superman would be criminal.

I've spent all this time talking about the thematic elements of Vol. 2 and failed to focus at all on its style. While it is different than the last movie and the pacing is the exact opposite, Tarantino does not slack in the technical department. His roots are still evident throughout, specifically during a highly entertaining sequence where The Bride trains with legendary martial arts master, Pai Mei (Gordon Liu). The sequence is brilliantly stuck in the middle of The Bride being buried alive (which is set up with horror movie framing) and then having a literal re-birth (an homage to zombie pictures).

As expected, the movie ends with The Bride fulfilling the title, although it doesn't happen as we might have thought. Fitting with the tone of the movie, the final showdown is based more on being clever than violent. It provides a surprisingly tender exit for Bill, a man who can't help what he is, but doesn't deserve to live for it (you could almost say that accepting his fate is his redemption). As The Bride proves in the end, anyone can change. You just have to find the right reason. This is easily the richest movie of Tarantino's career so far. Like Pulp Fiction, it explores many genres and does so with great dialogue. For the first time though, it feels like, aside from transcending the genres, Tarantino is giving his characters a greater sense of purpose.

After the drastic leap taken with Kill Bill Vol. 2, Tarantino got to go back to his roots once again when he teamed up Robert Rodriguez to make Grindhouse. Even though his goal was to make a straight up genre picture, it is still loaded with subtext. Interesting that Tarantino decided to split his movie, Death Proof, into two parts in order to make the characters in the first half the victims and the second half the heroes. This is necessary, of course, so we can see the damage the villain, Stuntman Mike (Kurt Russell), is capable of doing. We already know how much Tarantino loves women pushed to the edge, and with Death Proof, there isn't just one the evil man has to deal with, but three.

The first part of the movie is shot like a grungy '70s horror show and Stuntman Mike is introduced like a slasher. His first appearance on screen showcases only his eyes, as he is a voyeur intent on killing (as he sees it) defenseless women. It's a nice touch that he puts in eye drops before getting close to his prey (it feels like he's trying to mask the evil inside). Before actually meeting Mike, Tarantino introduces us to four women who are heading out for a night on the town. Their dialogue consists of banter about relationships, hook ups, and getting drunk. In other words, topics that will make them perfect candidates to die.

Stuntman Mike is a classic movie stalker. He's patient as he spends the whole night sitting at a bar watching these girls get wasted and vulnerable. He doesn't seem like he is really up for a challenge; the more off guard the victims are, the more fun he will have with the kill. Tarantino sets him up in the most disgusting way possible: by showing close ups of his mouth as he eats nachos. Once Mike opens his mouth to speak, it is immediately obvious what a charming guy he is (even the bartender knows him really well). The movie sets the four women up as lonely people drifting through life without a care in the world, which is probably why Mike chose them in the first place. Tarantino is able to draw us into their isolation and the sense of distance they have from men by showing text messages that reek of disappointment. And is it is a stretch to say that the rain surrounding the bar is a device to keep them from escaping before Mike's had a chance to study them?

Not surprising that the men in Death Proof are weak (yes, even Stuntman Mike as we learn during the second half). Everything they say is stupid and arrogant and involves getting a girl drunk so they can screw her (one guy even whines about wanting to make out). As with most slashers, Stuntman Mike's sexual frustration is the reason why he kills. It's eluded to when he orders a virgin pina colada and the bar tender reconfirms by pointing at him and saying "virgin." The reason he is at this particular bar is because one of the girls, due to an announcement on the radio, has to give a lapdance to the man who recites a certain poem to her. Mike does it, of course, and she honors it because he's smooth and creepy in equal measure. The lap dance scene is classic Tarantino: it's sexy and has a feeling of impending doom, because we know that Mike is enjoying the fact that, before long, this free spirited girl will be dead.

Stuntman Mike's phallic weapon is his car. He gets off on the thrill of using his tool as an instrument of death (appropriate the hood ornament is a duck, since Mike enjoys toying with his victims, as we see more in the second half). The kill scene of the four girls is gruesome and tragic. Tarantino shows the crash from each girl's perspective so it's as if we are experiencing it with each one of them.

The girls in the second half of the movie are the opposite of Mike's first victims. Their early scenes are the same: four women, in a car, discussing relationships. But instead of being aimless and carefree, these women are confident and tough. Two of them are stunt women and enjoy the high they get from driving a fast car. They trick a redneck into letting them test drive his 1970 Dodge Challenger so they can play a game called "Ship's Mast" where one person gets on the hood and lays on their back while holding onto belts tied to the side view mirrors. Mike notices them long before this of course, but his interest peaks when he sees that they, like him, live on the edge.

Mike goes after them while they're playing their game and adds another level of danger by ramming into them. To him, they speak the same language, so trying to run their car off the road is the equivalent to foreplay (you can tell how turned on he gets every time his car makes contact with theirs). As expected, he's not used to anyone else taking the upper hand, so when these women retaliate by pushing back, Mike goes from confident to cowardly. He's never had to be the victim. They come back after him with a phallic weapon of their own (a metal rod) and then proceed to beat the ever living crap out of him. His punishment is the price for thinking all women are defenseless. Stuntman Mike's fate goes back to the era of Reservoir Dogs in the sense that he is incapable of being redeemed.

The dialogue in the second half of the movie is not quite as involving as it was in the first, mainly because the topics of conversation are the same as they were before. What stands out is that Tarantino ditches the dirty look and goes for a more polished one, almost as if he is saying it's time to get down to business. The chase scene between Mike and the women is excitingly staged, further proving that Tarantino is as good at directing action as he is at writing dialogue. The energy of the last twenty minutes of Death Proof easily made me forget the fact my attention was beginning to waver during the dialogue at the start of the second half.

The biggest reason to see Death Proof is for Kurt Russell. While not necessarily in need of a comeback, Tarantino has given him the juiciest role he's had in ages. Nothing is quite as hilarious as watching his breakdown once the tables are turned as he cries and begs for mercy. It's obvious how big of a fan Tarantino is if you observe the t-shirt on the wall in the bar during the first half (I'll give you a hint: Jack Burton). Russell milks the part for all it's worth; seeing him in such prime form made me wish Tarantino would cast every actor I love in one of his movies, even if it's a minor role.

I noticed as I got further into Tarantino's career, I began to talk less about the technical aspects of his movies and more about the content. That is not to say he hasn't progressed technically; what it means is that he has evolved drastically as a writer and a director. He makes movies he will enjoy watching, and as he's continued to see and love more movies, it has helped him become a more skilled and interesting filmmaker. He is continuing to expand and improve on what he has learned from the screen. With each movie, he keeps finding ways to revolutionize the very foundation he gets his inspiration from. Will he ever make a movie that isn't stemmed from the genres that have influenced him the most? At this point in his career, it's hard to say. He is so damn good at what it does, I can't argue with the path he's chosen. All I really know is that I don't think there's a filmmaker who understands my celluloid passion better then he does.

Thank you for visiting Hell and Beyond!

Copyright, Hell and Beyond, 2009

50 Greatest Films

2009-07-05T15:33:00.000-07:00

Thanks to Iain Stott from One-Line Review for letting me take part in this! To view my list, go to:

http://1linereview2.blogspot.com/2009/07/lee-j-chase-iv.html

Thank you for visiting Hell and Beyond!

Copyright, Hell and Beyond, 2009

From One End to the Other: The Best of 2009 (so far)

2009-07-05T12:49:00.000-07:00

Due to being the result of the writers' strike, 2009 has been a strange year indeed. While I was expecting the indie movies to carry the torch, I've been taken aback on several occasions by big studio pictures. Was it the fact they were so desperate they decided to take whatever they could get? It's hard to tell at this point, so let's just call it a pleasant surprise and hope maybe it's a fever whose infection will stay put. I'm still psyched for the fall, of course, and given the overall lousiness of the summer, I have little hope for last few months of it (aside maybe from Tarantino's latest and Kathryn Bigelow's comeback). Let's see how many of these still make the cut come January.

LEE

1) Adventureland dir. Greg Mottola

Growing up is a bitch, and Greg Mottola is better at showing it than most directors. He conveyed the difficulties of parting with your best friend to a truly remarkable degree in Superbad, and now, in Adventureland, he jumps to the bittersweet summer before college when nothing makes sense and there's still a thread of innocence left to hold on to. There is a terrific love story at the center of the picture, but makes it so special, ultimately, is the soft way that Mottola captures how memories are made. By the use of location, character, and above all, music, we vividly see every detail that shapes the moments that we cherish the most once the experiences have passed.

2) Two Lovers dir. James Gray

Incredible sadness flows through James Gray's Two Lovers, a story of the difficulties of moving on once a love has been lost. It's a movie about choices, and as usual, Gray is able to draw emotional impact through a strong visual palate and beautiful, subtle performances. Joaquin Phoenix has never been better, ditto for the often excellent Gwyneth Paltrow. Gray is getting better with each project. He's always had a gift for making his settings a character, but never as perfectly as he does here. There's a beach in the movie that is a stunning mirror of the main character's sadness. A triumph in every way possible, Two Lovers achieves a poetry not often seen in the movies in that it makes us question whether it's okay to settle for what's right in front of us. The movie challenges us by asking, what if that's the only choice we have?

3) Up dir. Peter Docter

Pixar's latest is a thoroughly creative and visually luscious endeavor. Like my number two choice, it's about loss and learning to move on, but it's made as difficult for the audience as it is for the main character due to a masterful montage chronicling a lifetime of memories between two people who were deeply in love. What follows is the story of a stubborn old man who learns that it's never too late to go after your dreams and there's nothing wrong with letting other people in (literally and figuratively). Filled with heart, laughs, and plenty of suspense, Up is a splendid addition to Pixar's already impressive library.

4) Observe and Report dir. Jody Hill

The whole time I watched it, my mouth sat wide open, as I was unable to decide if I should laugh or be shocked. Maybe it's because I needed to do both. Jody Hill's Observe and Report is a go for broke comedy, a movie that plays by no rules but does it in a way that is highly effective and at times, unexpectedly sympathetic. As an experience, it's damn near indescribable, since it's not often a movie comes along that you don't want to criticize for making you horribly uncomfortable. If the movie had gone for simple shock value, it would have sunk from the beginning, but since it believes in and wants us to like its main character (played by a better than expected Seth Rogen), we develop an almost alien interest in this terrifying individual (terrifying for what he is, what he's going to be, and how many others out there are just like him). I can't wait to see the picture again so I am able to convince myself it actually exists.

5) Drag Me to Hell dir. Sam Raimi

People often complain that critics don't know how to have fun at the movies. Obviously, those people did not see Drag Me to Hell, which is likely to be the most fun I have at the movies this year. A throwback to his roots, director Sam Raimi has crafted a picture that manages to be funny, scary and exciting, all at the same time. He's a master at building dread and creating unpredictable situations for his characters, which he pulls off with his signature inventive camerawork and booming sound design. This is what summer movies are supposed to be about: taking the audience on a ride and then hurtling them back out the door, grinning and exhausted. An early confrontation in a parking garage is an instant classic, an expertly executed sequence that Michael Bay couldn't even pull off in his manic dreams.

Thank you for visiting Hell and Beyond!

Copyright, Hell and Beyond, 2009

Self Critical and Self-Aware: Bruce Campbell's My Name is Bruce and Mabrouk El Mechri's JCVD

2009-02-25T11:58:00.000-08:00

It's hard for me to judge people and it's hard for them...not to judge me. - Jean-Claude Van Damme in JCVD

Jean-Claude Van Damme sadly confesses that line to us directly during a six minute(!) monologue near the end of JCVD, and it appropriately applies not only to his movie but also to Bruce Campbell's latest directorial effort, the nudge-nudge, wink-wink My Name is Bruce. In both pictures, the fading stars play themselves, are broke and divorced, depend on their fans to remind them who they once were (even if they get exhausted and annoyed by it), and will take whatever pathetic project comes their way. And yet, the two movies couldn't be more different. Both actors had an ideal chance to satirize their images; one, unfortunately, takes the easy route while the other, to my complete surprise, is looking for something other than laughs. Deep down, he just wants to be accepted.

Start with My Name is Bruce, a low budget comedy shot on Bruce Campbell's property in Oregon. I was looking forward to this movie, having been a fan of Bruce's since I first saw Evil Dead 2 when I was fourteen. I wore out the VHS I had in no time thanks to Bruce's hilarious performance. The fact he was able to hold the screen so long by himself was like nothing I had ever seen before. As great as he is there, I believe his defining role is as Elvis in Bubba Ho-Tep, where Bruce combines the comedic side I've always known with a sense of melancholy he's never really displayed. It's quite beautiful.

But back to the new movie. My Name is Bruce feels like an inevitable project for Bruce at this point in his career. It's supposed to have a "truth is stranger than fiction" vibe (or "life imitating art imitating life," depending on your point of view), but instead of really taking some risks and giving the audience something to chew on, the movie is exactly what we expect it to be. The jokes are predictable, as is the structure, which leaves us with nothing but a bunch of one liners and scenes of physical comedy we've seen a hundred times. For some fans (and there are those who are that obsessed), that might be enough but for this guy, it comes off lazy.

The movie opens, naturally, with a group of kids accidentally waking up a Chinese ghost who whacks off heads with a fancy blade. In a state of panic, the lone survivor (and die hard Bruce fan) kidnaps his idol in hopes he can put his monster killing skills to good use. Of course, Bruce thinks the kid is full of shit and that the town is full of actors. There's a romantic interest, who hates the hero at first but quickly realizes he's a lovable old rascal. And since the movie is shameless enough to throw that in, it's no shock that Bruce turns into a coward and runs when he discovers the monster isn't a fake (which supplies one of the movie's few laugh out loud scenes as Bruce carelessly shoots the townspeople instead of the monster).

The lack of energy makes the self-aware aspect look all the more cheap. True, there are some fun scenes of Bruce boozing it up and getting humiliated on set, but for every one of those, there are five gags we've already experienced in other, better movies. Worse, Bruce is not particularly likable in this picture. I understand that being arrogant is part the act; my problem with it is that it's no longer amusing, just smarmy. The best thing that can be said about My Name is Bruce is that it is miles better than his directorial debut, The Man With the Screaming Brain. Unlike that movie, at least this one is not altogether boring. Plus, it gives Ted Raimi not one but three pretty funny roles. At 84 minutes, the movie could have made its tired point as a half hour sitcom episode.

Another matter altogether is Mabrouk El Mechri's JCVD, which, like My Name is Bruce, wants the audience to be in on the joke but doesn't shove it into our collective faces. The movie is a strange beast, one I had to watch twice before I could fully wrap myself around it. It opens with a tracking shot of Van Damme kicking some serious ass, until a piece of the set falls over and the star is complaining about his age affecting his ability to do too much activity in one take. He's getting too old for this shit, and it's not just his body that's getting tired. Aside from being a hero in Brussels, no one seems to care who he is anymore. To top things off, he's about to lose a custody battle over his daughter.

The first ten minutes or so of the picture establishes this, and it's made all the more effective by the sensationally drab cinematography. It's at this point people expecting Bloodsport should exit the room. Back in Brussels, Van Damme makes a quick trip to the post office to get some money he's being wired and finds himself in the middle of a robbery. It's a set up for a perfectly conventional thriller, but that's the point. Instead of stating the obvious, JCVD uses the actor being held hostage as a metaphor for his stardom. Normally, we'd expect Van Damme to kick his way through the bad guys, but instead, we see that he's just a man. Beating the stew out people is something he does in the movies; it's not who he really is.

The people on the outside (and one of the robbers) are oblivious to the fact he's only human. They all constantly make note that "he's a big star," which automatically means he doesn't deal with the same problems as the rest of the world. The movie touches on this a number of times, most notably when Van Damme is riding in a cab and the driver calls him rude because he says he's tired (she also points out that he looks much better on screen, which exposes the duality between his two personas). Deep down, there's a sense that Van Damme wishes he could be that guy he is in the movies, that there wouldn't be any consequences if he were to take matters into his own hands and be a real hero. But the weathered look on his face is an indicator that he is aware of the difference between fantasy and reality.

The movie is astonishingly well made. Aside from the striking cinematography, JCVD also benefits from sharp editing, a memorable supporting cast, and a script filled with moments of unexpected humor. I'm sure, though, that the burning question many will have is, how is Van Damme in the movie? For lack of a better word, he's excellent. A great deal of his performance is given through body language and facial expressions, and it is here he excels the most. The court room scenes during his custody battle are borderline devastating, as the camera simply focuses on Van Damme, who we quickly witness deteriorating into an empty shell.

The camera spends a lot of time still, simply pointed at its subject, most notably during an uninterrupted confessional that is randomly placed towards the end of the movie. The chair Van Damme is sitting in suddenly lifts him to the ceiling, and it is here he goes into a heartfelt monologue, as if he's finally looking into a mirror, spilling every thought he was always afraid to reveal to anyone, mostly himself. The argument could be made that it goes on too long, but that doesn't mean it isn't mesmerizing. It seems like Van Damme's way of telling us his audience was really all he ever had, and even though he may be past his expiration date as a notable action hero, they're still the only people he can truly depend on. The days of communicating with us through kicks and punches is over. Now, he needs us to show him some mercy.

The movie is frustrating in spots. There are a few too many confrontations involving the post office robbers, and a scene where Van Damme's parents show up doesn't get the kind of mileage it wants. Despite that, JCVD is a noteworthy achievement, a picture I had modest expectations of that ended up leaving me with something I had not thought possible: I had sympathy for Jean Claude Van Damme. I had a sense of it throughout, but it wasn't until the movie's final scene, which hits just the right note, that I knew how effective the movie was. JCVD does not achieve greatness, but that doesn't stop it from being a small treasure.

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Copyright, Hell and Beyond, 2009

Breathing Life into the Dream Factory: Lee's Best Movies of 2008

2009-01-24T16:19:00.001-08:00

2007 was the most ambitious and rewarding movie year I've probably experienced, so it almost goes without saying that I entered 2008 with the same anticipation. If it was a let down in comparison, then at least I can say that the best movies of the year were consistent thematically. They each, in their own way, showed that dreams carry with them a heavy price, as they eventually come to an end, be it due to age or lack of inspiration or just because the world is changing. It's a stunning and appropriate outlook in these dark ecomomic times, but most of these pictures, whether it was subtly or loudly, worked to reassure that there will be a light at the end of the tunnel. The hard part will be getting there. So, as we dive into the last movie year of the decade, it'll be interesting to see how the movies transition as the world continues to do the same. See you there.

-LEE

Honorable Mention (in alphebetical order): Baghead, Boarding Gate, Doubt, Get Smart, Happy Go Lucky, Max Payne, Quantum of Solace, Rachel Getting Married, Rambo, Rock N Rolla, Rogue, Role Models, Speed Racer, Step Brothers, The Strangers, Stuck, Sukiyaki Western Django, Wall-E, and The X-Files: I Want to Believe.

The Next Ten

20) Flight of the Red Balloon (Le Voyage du ballon) (dir. Hsiao-hsien Hou)
19) U2 3D (dir. Catherine Owens and Mark Pellington)
18) Iron Man (dir. Jon Favreau)
17) Redbelt (dir. David Mamet)
16) Hancock (dir. Peter Berg)
15) Gran Torino (dir. Clint Eastwood)
14) Man on Wire (dir. James Marsh)
13) In Bruges (dir. Martin McDonagh)
12) Jack Brooks: Monster Slayer (dir. Jon Knautz)
11) Hellboy II:The Golden Army (dir. Guillermo del Toro)

The Top Ten

10) Tropic Thunder (dir. Ben Stiller)

Hands down the funniest movie of the year, Ben Stiller's savage satire is the best jab on Hollywood since Robert Altman's The Player. Backed by a dynamite cast that includes a scene stealing performance by Robert Downey, Jr., Tropic Thunder is living proof that being an actor is a dangerous profession in more ways than one.

9) Encounters at the End of the World (dir. Werner Herzog)

Nobody makes documentaties like Werner Herzog. Who else could make a movie about a community of people living and working in Antarctica that's this interesting, weird and hilarious? The picture is visually stunning, but what truly resonates are the interviews (particularly with a penguin expert) and Herzog's almost deadpan voiceovers. This is one of his best and most entertaining movies.

8) Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull (dir. Steven Spielberg)

I had a difficult time talking to people about the first Indiana Jones movie in almost 20 years. Most of them wrote it off as "goofy" or "cheesy," convincing me that I did not see the same movie they did. What I got was a movie with memorable dialogue, classically staged action sequences, and a performance by Harrison Ford that tops his work in the pervious entries. Crystal Skull sticks with me even deeper after each viewing. It's a profound examination of dealing with age and, like the movies before it, an allegory on the way religion is used for one's own agenda.

7) Be Kind Rewind (dir. Michel Gondry)

A movie that understands the importance of art and those who embrace it. Even the title suggests a personal attachment and a desire to share one's creation with others. But it's when a whole community of people come together to make something special that Michel Gondry's latest truly takes shape, leading up to a final shot that is bittersweet for all the right reasons.

6) Shotgun Stories (dir. Jeff Nichols)

The debut feature from Jeff Nichols (brother of Lucero front man, Ben Nichols) is soaked in a lonely atmosphere that hangs over the characters who inhabit it. There's never any question of where the picture is going, but Nichols' characters have such authenticity to them, it hardly matters. Were the movie not so subtle, it could be mistaken for a western, due to the central feud between two sets of brothers, which erupts into violence but develops into something much bigger. Memorable for many reasons, the picture's greatest asset is Michael Shannon, an actor who greatness increases with each role.

5) The Dark Knight (dir. Christopher Nolan)

What could I possibly say about this movie that hasn't been covered already? The first time I saw it, I admired the hell out of it, and each time I went back, I found it getting under my skin more and more. The movie really bothered me; not in a bad way, but because it made sense. I was not watching a "superhero" movie, but a realistic vision of a world without hope or possibly even redemption. The material is bleak, to be sure, but the package it's wrapped in is fast paced, expertly acted, and often exciting. I don't know if there will ever be another in the genre like it.

4) Reprise (dir. Joachim Trier)

I'm a sucker for coming-of-age stories, but most of the time they're done without much spark or originality. Norwegian filmmaker Joachim Trier's debut is a welcome exception, a meticulously written portrait of two friends who, after taking separate paths, have to deal with the pressures of success, relationships, and realizing they're not children anymore. The visual compositions are effective and melancholy, especially when dealing with a desperate attempt to recreate a love that is long gone. Reprise is sad, joyous, and beautifully somber.

3) The Wrestler (dir. Darren Aronofsky)

To call it a comeback is putting it lightly. Mickey Rourke's presence in The Wrestler is magical, a shot at redemption in more ways than one. Every scene of Aronofsky's latest seeps with loss and regret as Rourke's Randy the Ram, a wrestler far past his expiration date, fights to keep himself in a quickly dimming spotlight. The movie is shot with frightening authenticity, so there's never a moment where we doubt Randy's pain, internal or external. It's a testmanent of love; not just finding it for oneself, but from and through others. The finale is easily my favourite movie moment of 2008.

2) My Winnipeg (dir. Guy Maddin)

Guy Maddin is one the strangest and most unique filmmakers around (see his silent film Brand Upon the Brain if you don't believe me), and his latest is at once his most personal creation yet. A mixture of fact and occasionally mind blowing fiction, My Winnipeg is Maddin's tribute to his childhood home, a place full of people and landmarks that are truly larger than life. The whole movie is staged as if it is coming from a child's perspective, which gives it a dreamlike quality. But the movie also has a shadow of sadness cast over it, for eventually things change and not always for the better. The wonderful thing about Maddin's movie is that no matter how different the places we embrace become, we still have the memories. They are ours, and no one can change that.

1) Synecdoche, New York (dir. Charlie Kaufman)

I believe that Charlie Kaufman is the best screenwriter of my lifetime. His movies speak to me in ways I never thought possible, as they invoke so many different types of feelings at once I often don't know how to respond to them initially. All of his scripts so far have given a glimpse into his mysterious soul, but none of them have taken us as deep as his directorial debut, Synecdoche, New York. The movie is a journey; a journey for self satifaction, for acceptance, for the creation of something that will remind people how to love, to hate, to fear, to hurt. It's Kaufman's great examination of life and everything that comes with it. The first time I saw it I was awestruck and devastated and I couldn't shake a single frame of it out of my head. The second time I didn't want it to let go of me, as I further found myself becoming a part of it. Kaufman's world is strangely inviting and complex, a place that is hard to understand but somehow, impossible not to embrace. Synecdoche, New York is a meditation on what it means to live, grow old, die, and maybe, just maybe, find a reason the whole thing was worthwhile.

Thank you for visiting Hell and Beyond!

Copyright, Hell and Beyond, 2009

Consenting Adults: David Gordon Green's Snow Angels

2008-09-18T17:44:00.000-07:00

David Gordon Green's first two pictures, George Washington and All the Real Girls, were so good it was only a matter of time before the magic would begin to wear off. Those movies were uncommonly realistic slice-of-life portraits, the reason for their success due to the painfully authentic characters and the way Green (and cinematographer Tim Orr) captured the way a small town atmosphere can effect the people who reside there. His third movie, Undertow, still maintained the visual beauty but lost the rest due to a plot that was too heavy handed for its own good. You can sense Green really trying to get back to where he was in the beginning with his fourth effort, Snow Angels, but while his other movies dealt mostly with adolescents, this one also focuses on adult relationships.

The idea I found most appealing here involves how the teenage characters respond to the dysfunctional interaction between the adults. This is mostly observed through the eyes of Arthur (Michael Angarano, excellent), a young man awkwardly experiencing love for the first time in his life. We see skepticism in his actions when Lila (Olivia Thirlby, also excellent) first comes on to him, which makes sense given that his parents have just separated and then shortly after, Arthur sees his father (Griffin Dunne) with another woman. Naturally, he is angry and confused. But that doesn't stop him from trying to find a connection with Lila in hopes he won't mimic his father's behavior. There's an incredibly sweet scene where Lila sleeps over and Arthur brings her breakfast in bed.

Arthur and Lila's scenes are the highlight of Snow Angels, without question. Each moment between them has a tenderness that's missing from most movies about young love. If there's a problem here, it's that we know from Green's earlier pictures that he is capable of pulling off this material well. It's when he gets into the territory of the adults that he really falters. Look, for instance, at the scene where Arthur's father tells his wife (Jeanetta Arnette) he's leaving her. The actors give it all they've got, but the dialogue sounds like the stuff you'd expect to hear on a soap opera. Same goes for Arthur's conversations with his father after the separation. Instead of really trying to show the emotional wounds these two have, we're forced to settle for the same old harsh realizations. At least he fares better with his mother, who is genuinly enthused when she finds out her son had overnight female company (she's equally proud and jealous that her son "got some").

If the troubles between his parents weren't enough, Arthur also has to deal with a marital battle between his former babysitter, Annie (Kate Beckinsale), and her nutjob of a husband, Glenn (Sam Rockwell). She is trying to make it as a single mom by waitressing, while he gets drunk a lot, makes threats, and prays to God. Glenn is aggressively trying to win Annie back, but she won't have it. Besides, she's too busy screwing her friend Barb's (Amy Sedaris, solid) husband (a cartoonish Nicky Katt), not realizing of course that she's destroying someone else's marriage. Thanks (or no thanks, really) to Glenn, most every scene between he and Annie is a piece of overcooked melodrama, whether it involves Glenn trying to give Annie pictures of their daughter or him taking her to dinner. If the dialogue has a stale ring to it, the phony tension is elevated a few levels too high due to Rockwell's rickety performance.

I'm not sure what Sam Rockwell was going for here. I know he can play unstable well (Confessions of a Dangerous Mind being the greatest example), so it's rather disheartening to see a such a genuine talent try so hard to earn sympathy and fail. On the flipside, Kate Beckinsale is terrific as Annie. Since she basically upstages Rockwell in every scene they share, it only makes the flaws of his performance stand out even more. It's strangely fascinating to watch them onscreen together since they are never able to strike a comfortable balance. What I mean is, it's crucial for the audience to believe these two people have a real past together, and yet I never got that impression. I honestly felt like their relationship did not exist until their introduction in this movie, an issue that could only have been resolved had a different actor been cast as Glenn.

Annie and Glenn are sadly supposed to act as the movie's anchor. Because of this, I had a difficult time being optimistic about whether or not it was going to get any better. The picture's not boring; there's just very little human interest when you take out the teenage love story. Annie and Glenn's problems build first to a tragic climax, which is meant to pave the way to the shocking conclusion. Both stages are handled as if they're afterthoughts, particularly when referring to the final scenes. Snow Angels strains too hard to earn the ending it chooses; sure, we can see it pushing in that direction, but there's hardly any reason to care once it finally arrives at the intended destination. The events function as plot devices, conveniently plugged in just so the movie can jump at the chance to pull the audience's strings before the lights go up.

Green and Orr have made a visually stunning movie that works overtime to cover the weaknesses in the script. The snowy landscape is shot as a place of constant mystery and fear, and while there are moments where the audience can almost feel the chill, it only resonates to the fullest extent during a scene where Arthur makes a discovery at a frozen pond. Despite the movie's visual appeal, Green often distracts from it with a number of puzzling shots where the camera simply wanders off into nothingness. More than anything, it feels like a cheap attempt to do something artistic. These moments truly frightened me, because they made me worried that the once promising Green is running out of profound and insightful things to say (his next movie, Pineapple Express, did not improve matters). The fact he's been chosen to direct the remake of Suspiria holds a bit of anticipation that maybe, just maybe, he'll be able to find his way again.

Thank you for visiting Hell and Beyond!

Copyright, Hell and Beyond, 2008

No Flesh Shall Be Spared: Richard Stanley's M.A.R.K. 13 (aka Hardware)

2008-09-09T17:37:00.000-07:00

I saw Hardware for the first time right when it debuted on home video. I was probably fourteen years old and needless to say, it scared the shit out of me. Since VHS movies were not available for purchase until they had been out a while, I was forced to make a copy of the one I had rented, which I proceeded to wear out. At the point of its release, I had never seen anything quite like Hardware before; the look of it fascinated me, as did the bizarre characters, and the climatic suspense continued to unnerve me with each viewing. The picture was ignored when it came out in the fall of 1990; sadly, most folks labeled it as a rip off of The Terminator. I heard for years that there was an uncut version floating around, different mostly because it restored the gore removed from the U.S. cut. Thanks to Ebay, I acquired a copy; in other words, I paid $15 for a cheap bootleg.

To this day I still haven't seen the movie, called M.A.R.K. 13 overseas, in its original widescreen format (one can only hope Anchor Bay will eventually rescue it). I guess it hasn't bothered me too much because watching it on DVD with a crappy full screen transfer is the way I grew up with it (don't get me wrong...I'd still love to see it restored and reformatted). Re-visiting M.A.R.K. 13 for the first time in a number of years was a rewarding and odd experience. It's not scary anymore, but it does still manage to provide a number of solid jolts, due mainly to writer/director Richard Stanley's effective camera setups. Interesting he's able to get so much mileage out of the action considering the camera hardly moves at all. There are a good number of current directors who could benefit from studying Stanley's work.

Richard Stanley is definitely a better director than he is a writer. The dialogue and basic story of M.A.R.K. 13 (apparently based on a comic book called "Shok") are quite routine and empty of surprises, but Stanley is so gifted with his visual storytelling it's sometimes hard to notice. There are some apparent themes flowing throughout the piece, some of them well handled while others are a bit confusing. The movie sets up its obsession with eyes at the opening when it shows a closeup of the heroine's face, eyes closed. In a sense, this is an early indicator she's going to survive, given that the characters' need to see things is what ultimately leads to their deaths. Even more crucial though, is the fact that many of the movie's victims all have a desire to look at bare flesh, an idea that can tie in with the Bible verse that shares the picture's title.

Flesh is a dangerous thing in M.A.R.K. 13, not just in a voyeuristic context, but also in regards to how much of it gets pierced and destroyed. A key image in the picture shows Moses (Dylan McDermott, in a role originally intended for Bill Paxton!) in the shower with his girlfriend, Jill (Stacey Travis). One of his hands is made of metal, and when it starts to explore her body, the camera moves in to capture how rough the texture of the hand is on her skin. Equally as thorny is the fact the first thing the movie's killer, a robot, sees when its eyes open is two people having sex. It's at this moment that we realize how strong the eyes/flesh/metal dynamic is going to be. Virtually every metal object in the movie is given a phallic shape, especially when pertaining to the robot's weapons (in one scene, the robot stalks the heroine and it literally looks like it's going to rape her to death with a drill).

The picture features several shots of characters staring into the eyes of the robot, each one shown from the latter's POV. It's as if the robot is as uncomfortable at being stared at as the humans are, a theory that develops relevance when Jill's neighbor (William Hootkins), a disgusting and slimy pervert who spies on her through a long, phallic telescope, comes over to her apartment and notices her blinds are closed. He naturally re-opens them, the resulting punishment occurring when the robot gouges his eyes out. In the end, the only character to not suffer is Shades (John Lynch), Moses's friend. First off, he wears sunglasses, and when the light does make his eyes visible, they're closed. Also worth noting is the scene where Moses and Jill reunite. They begin to get intimate, but instead of sticking around to see what happens, Shades wisely leaves and locks the door behind him.

Amidst the absorbing subtext is a story not worth caring about. The movie takes place in a post apocalyptic wasteland where all the buildings are either factories or power plants and metal is the greatest commodity. Of course, the city is surrounded by endless miles of desert, known here as "the zone," and the few people who make a living do it by selling scraps or sculpting metal parts together. Moses buys a bag full of robot parts from a creepy drifter as gift for Jill, not knowing of course that his newly acquired prize is a failed government experiment capable of reassembling itself and causing total chaos. Aside from being armed with a number of weapons, the robot also carries deadly substances in its fingertips. If that's not enough, there's also a good bit of talk about a new population control plan that's supposed to keep people from having children (the robot, as expected, is the answer to this problem).

The movie attempts to cover up the familiarity of its setup with critiques on America and religious imagery. Moses plays himself up as a military hotshot, complete with big guns and a menacing knife. In his eyes, this makes him superior to Jill, and he treats her as if she is incapable of taking care of herself. At one point, he makes it known that he is "divinely protected" due to his military involvement, a statement that is seen as naive given his fate. The American flag is referenced when Jill decides to spray paint it on the robot's head. It's a disturbing image, especially since the movie is saying this non-discriminatory killing machine is a representation of the flag plastered across its face.

The religious undertones are hard to pin, as they never seem to have any real context. Sure you could say the state of the world hints at the absence of God's presence, but that's as deep as it gets. The robot is named M.A.R.K. 13 after a Bible verse, which Moses reads out loud at one point, but it's simply used as a mirror for a man made creation. Inexplicably, Jill and the robot as both shown in Christ poses, Moses has an injury in the center of his hand before he dies, and, in the same scene, the robot takes on a God like stature complete with rays of light coming from behind it (which I'll make another point about in a moment). All these scenes are visually arresting, although it's hard to connect with them if they're in the movie simply for show.

The action is remarkably tense thanks in part of Steven Chivers's cinematography. The whole picture is shot in a dark red tone that is so bland it feels like color is a luxury the world can no longer afford. Given that most of the movie takes place in Jill's sparse apartment, it's a wise decision, more than anything because it makes it difficult to see where the robot is hiding. There are a number of standout sequences between Jill and the robot, but nothing tops the surreal sequence where Moses is dying. In addition to a series of trippy hallucinations (which could help explain why the robot looks Christ like), there's a surprisingly effective moment in which Moses comes to terms with the consequences for his decisions.

There's hardly a moment of M.A.R.K. 13 that doesn't hold some kind of appeal (it helps that almost every scene is accompanied by a terrific music score courtesy of Simon Boswell). For a movie that doesn't really unleash it's threat until an hour in, it does a credible job holding our attention. It's a unique experience to say the least, a movie that wasn't given a fair shot because of its subject matter and, I would guess, its micro budget ($1.5 million). It's no wonder given the treatment of this picture and his follow up, the also underestimated Dust Devil, that director Richard Stanley has stuck to documentary filmmaking ever since. The latter was butchered by it's American distributor, Miramax (need I say more?), and with that in mind, it's also worth throwing in that two of the producers of M.A.R.K. 13 were Bob and Harvey Weinstein! As we've seen with newcomer Greg McLean (Wolf Creek, Rogue), they are good at screwing over real talent. Even if Richard Stanley never makes another piece of fiction, at least we have this to remind us what could have been.

Thank you for visiting Hell and Beyond!

Copyright, Hell and Beyond, 2008

A Splendidly Dark Summer

2008-09-03T19:10:00.001-07:00

After a lousy winter and spring at the movies, the summer slate kicked things into high gear and provided a season at least on par with the crop from last year. I was awestruck by how many movies I was enjoying, many of which were receiving chilly reception from major critics (I still can't believe so few of them embraced Get Smart). Reading reviews this summer helped me realize just how lame film criticism is getting; instead of focusing on the smart, daring pictures, most of the praise went to easy, safe ones. Not that those aren't fun; it's just sad to see how lazy the critical taste is becoming.

The best movies of the summer for me were the ones that succeeded at being more than just an average blockbuster. They were all marketed that way, but I'll be damned if they each didn't aim to do more than simply provide the audience with visceral thrills. I have chosen five movies to single out, although I could have picked ten. When it comes to a list representing a season, the shorter list feels more appropriate. So here's to a terrific summer, one that hopefully has paved the way to an even better fall lineup.

5) Hellboy II: The Golden Army dir. Guillermo Del Toro

An experience of endless imagination, Hellboy II takes the ground laid by the first movie and shoots it to the heavens. Ron Perlman is even better than he was the last time, but the real pleasures of the picture are all the little touches. Del Toro fills the movie with jaw dropping visuals, memorable supporting characters, and at least three inspired moments of comedy. He's a classic storyteller, and Hellboy II is proof that he was the ideal choice to bring on board for The Hobbit. I'm almost disappointed he's been distracted, since Del Toro has already announced plans to do a third chapter. Patience can be a bitch.

4) Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull dir. Steven Spielberg

Critics and fans complained and complained about how it wasn't what they were hoping for after all these years, which leaves me with one question: what were they expecting? The picture has Harrison Ford, who at sixty-six can still kick ass like he's thirty-three. There's plenty of action, staged as breathlessly as anything Spielberg has done. And then there's the screenplay, which is sprinkled with a startling amount of memorable dialogue about aging and the theories behind god and higher beings. While I can agree some of the CGI stands out, I appreciate the movie's intentions enough that it barely made an impression. My second favourite entry in the series behind Raiders.

3) Hancock dir. Peter Berg

It made a shitload of money, but nobody was talking about it and I don't understand why. Hancock is a movie full of ambitious ideas, with most of them executed in a way that's not only entertaining, but also profound. Will Smith is the best he's ever been in a role that couldn't have been played by anyone else, and if some of the special effects are lacking, director Peter Berg's effortless dedication to the material makes it a worthless argument. The picture is, aside from being a sly take on the superhero genre, a bold look at romance and race in modern day America. Like Berg's other movies, it'll only be a matter of time before audiences finally realize how genius his work truly is.

2) Tropic Thunder dir. Ben Stiller

It's been many years since a movie made me laugh as loud as Tropic Thunder, Ben Stiller's merciless Hollywood satire. The casting is half the genius, from Robert Downey Jr. and Tom Cruise's brilliant disguises to Matthew McConaughey and Nick Nolte's subtle nuances. Aside from the inspired gags, there's plenty of exciting action, too. None of it holds any weight, but it's all staged with relentless gusto. No one is safe in Tropic Thunder, and yet the movie is not mean spirited. Instead, it goes to great lengths to show the ridiculous pressure actors will put themselves under in order to become a "star," a theme that's brilliantly set up by three mock trailers. Equally as great is the way the picture spits on actors attempting to develop their craft. Stiller seems to be saying it's a bunch of bologna, that trying that hard to become a character will leave you not only alone but also doubting who you really are.

1) The Dark Knight dir. Christopher Nolan

I wanted so badly to avoid jumping on the bandwagon here, but after four viewings and plenty of pondering, I cannot deny the greatness of The Dark Knight. It's problems are minor enough they are barely worth mentioning (although I still can't stand Batman's voice; and why does he talk that way around people who know his true identity?), leaving us to instead focus on the movie's many themes and characters. The familiar story arcs are given an incredible boost thanks to Nolan's knack for serious storytelling, but what really elevates the picture are its central performances: Christian Bale's tortured Bruce Wayne, Heath Ledger's unpredictably insane Joker and Aaron Eckhart's overly ambitious Harvey Dent. The picture is impossible to shake off; what first amazed me about it was how disturbed and afraid it made me. Usually those types of feelings would keep me away from revisiting a movie frequently, but not this one. It's a movie full of so many rewards that it demands to be seen more than once. If that's not the sign of an unforgettable movie experience, I don't know what is. The Dark Knight has redefined what it means to be a summer movie. The question is will the next movie, hopefully helmed by Nolan, be able to up the stakes on what he's accomplished here?

Thank you for visiting Hell and Beyond!

Copyright, Hell and Beyond, 2008

Final Friday Thoughts: Was It a Great Cinematic Experience?

2008-08-27T20:21:00.001-07:00

The ultimate goal I had, aside from whether or not I could sit through them all, was to see if I agreed with film critic Alex Jackson's statement that the Friday the 13th series is one of the great cinematic experiences. First off, I should probably say I was surprised how much I got into it as a whole. Every time I'd start a chapter and the Paramount logo would appear, I'd feel a tinge of excitement. I never, ever expected to have a reaction like that when preparing to watch a Friday the 13th picture, but to my amazement, the series did turn out to be a building process (at least for the first four). I loved getting to pick out the similarities from one to the next, finding where the inconsistencies were, and most of all following Jason as he developed as a character. Like many others, I wouldn't have thought there was anything to Jason, but it turned out I was wrong. Just read the reviews and you'll see my point.

While it may be true that the movies themselves were, for the most part, hit and miss affairs, when you take it as a collective whole, it is quite unique and undeniably fascinating. So much so, that I would gladly sit through all of them again (I might leave out Part 8) just to see what I might have missed while my pen was furiously scribbling on the notepad. Who knew that a series of movies made with such simplicity could turn out to have so much appeal? This is certainly not to say every person will get the same thing out of a Friday the 13th picture. In fact, many will probably watch one and feel that it is an empty and monotonous experience. But for those willing to totally give themselves to the series, as a true fan of cinema should do, the reward could be greater than you think.

So, do I agree that the series is a "great" cinematic experience? Not quite. I would almost say that Parts 6 and 8 hold it back, the former because of how it destroys the rich and interesting Tommy Jarvis character and turns Jason into an infantile joke, and the latter because of how it abandons the expected pleasures of a Friday the 13th movie. In the end, call it a very admirable cinematic experience, one that I will gladly revisit if the opportunity arises again. Now that I've completed the Paramount years, I must say that I'm gonna miss hanging out with Jason. Who knew?

Note: Even though the image above was from a chapter I did not like, it's the most entertaining one I could find. If only it had been in Part 7...

*You can read Alex Jackson's reviews of the series by clicking on the link labeled "I Viddied it on the Screen" under my "Reading Material" header.

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Copyright, Hell and Beyond, 2008

Going Out With a Whimper: Rob Hedden's Friday the 13th Part VIII: Jason Takes Manhattan

2008-08-25T12:01:00.000-07:00

Heroine: "There's a maniac trying to kill us!"

Unsurprised Patron: "Welcome to New York."

That line is a good indicator that Friday the 13th Part VIII: Jason Takes Manhattan is trying to say there are worse things out there than Jason Voorhees, and the big city is certainly one of them. Not a bad idea for a 1989 production, I guess; at least, it would have been had writer/director Rob Hedden had the funds to really explore it. Instead, Paramount's last chapter in the Friday the 13th series is a strange and unappealing concoction that spends half its run time on a cruise ship and half in the alleys and sewers of New York (actually Vancouver). I don't blame Hedden completely; his original script had a lot more action in New York, but it turned out to be money the studio didn't want to spend. That being the case, the first thing they should have done was change the title (or come up with a different premise).

The opening credit sequence sadly lets us know that the days of Crystal Lake are gone forever. The classic black background, stock white font, and signature music have been replaced by shots of the New York slums, complete with a cheesy pop song, fancy looking credits, and a voice over about the city that sounds like something you might hear on a third rate tour bus. Not a moment of it portrays New York in a positive light; in fact, the image that's shown the longest is of a rat peeking out of a vat filled with toxic looking liquid. In other words, this place is a cesspool and Jason should have no problem fitting in (when he gets there, no one gives him a puzzling glance).

The set up involves a group of high school seniors taking a cruise to New York before graduation. Like Part 7, the heroine this time is a troubled girl with some daddy issues. No thanks to him, she's afraid of the water and doesn't know how to swim (as a child he pushed her into the lake and told her if she didn't swim, Jason would get her!). This fear combined with childhood trauma provides her with a strong connection to Jason; throughout the picture, she has visions of him as a drowning child. I must say I wasn't prepared for another character to develop a bond with Jason. First off, it's a bit late in the series to being doing that and second, after the failure of Tommy Jarvis it feels like too much of an afterthought. I've been burned once and am not ready to risk it happening again.

After being resurrected by electricity for the second time (after Part 6), Jason kills a couple of teenagers and hitches a ride on the cruise ship, boasting the necessary question of why he would get on the boat in the first place. Sure, there are potential victims there, but doesn't that take him out of his element? Crystal Lake is Jason's comfort zone, meaning he's always in complete control there. It just doesn't look right seeing him wandering around the cramped corridors of a sea vessel. Naturally, he's got plenty of people on board just waiting to be dispatched, and they each fit their stereotypical mold. My personal favourite has to be the female glam rocker, who sports a flying V guitar and a Joan Jett haircut.

Hormones fly high in Part 8, although nothing noteworthy is ever done with it. There's a queen bitch who's reminiscent of the one from Part 7, and once again she's the object of desire for an ultra nerd. Even though he's never humiliated by her, he still says that he wouldn't care if she used him because she's "sexy." This kind of pathetic behavior is as unforgivable as being a spoiled snob, and will no doubt lead to an early grave. There is a little nudity in the picture, but it's handled in a completely different manner than we've seen before in the series. Previously, it's all been a tease or shown from a distance while here, it's very exploitative. Hedden has the camera thoroughly examine the female bodies, generally doing so shortly before their deaths.

If the nudity feels more exploitative, so does the violence. Jason's pattern of quick kills has been replaced by an inexplicable need to take his time killing and actually watch the victim die. This is the first chapter where we get a sense he may really be enjoying what's he doing. Look at the movie's second kill, which has Jason stabbing a girl with a spear. He lowers the weapon very slowly, as if he's making her anticipate what is about to happen, and then after she's dead, he stands and simply looks at her for a moment. The brutality gets even worse from there. One guy gets a hot sauna rock to the stomach, another gets electrocuted, and one poor girl gets choked and then thrown on the floor. In each instance, particularly the middle one, Jason soaks in his destruction completely. If I recall, there's only one true "rape" style murder, and it involves the ship captain's assistant being stabbed repeatedly from behind.

I'm not sure why Jason would be so interested in the deaths all of the sudden. Maybe he's developed a sense of patience, which might make sense because he is no longer able to run. My real guess is that it's a totally random decision made by the director, who also thought it would be good to have Jason target certain people! If you are confused than trust me, so was I. Once in New York, instead of taking out every person in sight, Jason makes it a point to only pursue the survivors of the cruise ship! His new found discrimination makes the last half completely asinine, especially when Jason follows the heroine and her boyfriend onto the subway. There are tons of people he could take out but instead, he pushes them aside to pursue the two familiar faces. Was this meant to be funny? If so, then I'm afraid Rob Hedden is the only one who was laughing.

If you think Jason's behavior is off, wait until you see his absurd ability to teleport. By taking him out of the woods, the studio must have been desperate to come up with some kind of gimmick to justify the fact he won't be able to sneak up on people as well as he used to. As a result, Jason is suddenly able to appear wherever he wants, which takes this idea of him being a boogeyman just a tad too far. Worse, it cripples any chance of suspense from the chase scenes. What good will it do to run away from Jason if he's going to be able to magically pop up in front of you? Once in New York, Jason also gets his sense of humor back. While I must admit I found a billboard joke pretty funny, there are a few other jokes, most notably one where Jason raises his mask to scare some thugs, that felt like they belonged in Part 6.

The latter chapters have shown a weakness in the ending department, so it's appropriate that Part 8 follows suit. It takes place in a sewer where the heroine learns that every night at midnight, toxic waste floods the tunnels. This makes for a convenient way to get rid of Jason, since he will not only drown, but also remember what happened to him as a child. The idea hardly is relevant when you consider that Jason is no longer human and therefore would doubtfully be able to recall anything that happened that many years ago. Interesting though, that Jason goes back to being a defenseless child again; if anything, it revives the theme from the first movie that Jason is labeled as a monster before he even gives anyone a reason to see him that way.

Friday the 13th Part VIII: Jason Takes Manhattan represents the lowest point of the Paramount years. In addition to its rocky subtext, the picture is not very well made, the sound design is annoying, and the makeup effects are really crappy. For being the biggest budgeted entry in the series, it's rather difficult to figure out where the money went (my guess is the MPAA made sure it was kept off screen). More than anything, the movie makes one wish the studio had ended things after Part 7. Yeah, it was a thankless demise for Jason, but at least the movie was respectful to the roots. The realization that we'll always have to remember Jason Takes Manhattan are the finale is kind of insulting and, for someone who has become a true fan, more than a bit sad.

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Copyright, Hell and Beyond, 2008

Getting Back on Track: John Carl Buechler's Friday the 13th Part VII: The New Blood

2008-08-23T14:56:00.000-07:00

Friday the 13th Part VII is the first entry in the series I remember seeing. It was the night it premiered on HBO and at that point in my life (I was probably 12 or 13), I had seen only a handful of horror movies. No surprise the nudity was the key element that stood out to me at the time. I re-visited it about seven years ago and thought it was terrible; of course at that time, I did not realize that the Friday the 13th movies are best appreciated as a collective experience. In a way, they all kind of build off each other. After seeing Part 6, my hopes for Part 7 were pretty low, as I feel that Part 6 threw out everything that made the series unique in the first place. It basically turned Jason into a parody of himself.

My sour feelings grew a little more positive as the picture opened. The music, which was much too playful in Part 6 was now back to its appropriately sinister sound. And the director, John Carl Buechler, made sure to let us know that this was his film before the pre-credit sequence began (a nice nod to Steve Miner and Part 2). The opening for Part 7 is a hoot. The classic series montage is back, but this time it includes a voice over by a guy who sounds like Danny Trejo and uses lines you'd expect to hear in a trailer! Example: "Some have tried to stop him...no one can!" It's pretty silly stuff, and yet it works because Buechler is paying tribute to the series and having a blast in the process.

Friday the 13th Part VII: The New Blood is a very strange movie, meaning it fits right in with the best of the series. If it ultimately has a plot that is needless and kind of gets in the way, it also has enough worthy stuff to make that a minor complaint. The key character is Tina (Lar Park Lincoln), a teenage girl who fits the mold of the heroines in the series, but is given a twist: she has telekinetic and psychic powers. She stumbles upon her gift (or curse) as a child when her anger towards an abuse father leads to his death in Crystal Lake. Years later, Tina is taken back in hopes that her doctor, named Crews (Terry Kiser from Weekend at Bernie's!), can get to the root of her psychological issues. Just in that little description you can see that this is too much story for a Friday the 13th movie. It is needless, but the movie does a few fascinating things with it.

The scenes with Dr. Crews are the worst. He's that classic asshole who constantly accuses Tina of being out of control, more or less says she's crazy, and says she's delusional. There's no question we want to see him die from the first moment he's on screen. However, since this is a Friday the 13th movie, there are many others that will have to go first. Jason is of course still at the bottom of lake where Tommy Jarvis left him at the end of Part 6. In an attempt to resurrect her father, Tina brings Jason back instead, and he's still all zombie and no patience. Thankfully, his reasoning skills have been thrown away and been replaced with an unstoppable and unrelenting desire to destroy. Jason comes out of the water with the attitude of someone who did not want to be awakened. He's tired of killing, dammit, but these foolish people just will not leave him alone. It's no surprise that Buechler comes from a make-up effects background, since the Jason in this entry is the most menacing looking one yet.

The kills are up to the caliber of the earlier chapters in the series. Like in The Final Chapter, Jason is so pissed to have been awakened he's going to do his duty to the absolute extreme. What's different this time is that his purpose for living has turned into a monotonous routine. The movie has a lot of fun playing with that idea from the first kill, especially when we notice that Jason can no longer run. Realizing that himself, he tends to sneak up behind people so they won't run away and if they do, he throws a weapon to stop them or, in one priceless moment, knocks a victim down just so he can kill them with his weapon. The idea seems to be if you have the weapon, you darn well better use it. There are a wide variety of weapons in the movie, most of them of the piercing nature. Buechler takes the idea that the machete is Jason's tool of sexual aggression and pushes it through the wall. At one point, he shows up with a long rod with a curved blade on the end and later, he somehow finds a weed whacker with a spinning blade! He uses the latter to kill Dr. Crews, and even though we don't see where he sticks it, it is apparent that it's below the chest, resulting in one of the most literal rapes Jason has committed thus far. I say rape not just because of the weapon used, but also because Jason makes sure Dr. Crews knows what's happening to him.

Sex is crucial in Part 7, as is masculinity and penis size. The first sign of sexual anxiety is brought up in an early scene with Tina and Dr. Crews. The doctor puts a book of matches on the table and asks Tina to move it with her mind. It's not working so he gets aggressive with her, so much so that it not only moves but also ignites. The interesting thing about the way it's shot is that the flame appears almost directly in front of Tina's crotch, and the scene immediately cuts to two other teenagers having sex. This puts Tina's sexual suppression front and center, mainly focusing on the fact that her telekinesis has prevented her from finding someone interested in being intimate with her. I like the way Buechler further capitalizes on Jason being drawn to people having sex. We see a couple getting it on, with the next shot containing Jason walking up to the house they're in. There's a scene like the one in Part 4 where a girl dies while skinny dipping. In that movie, Jason stabs her from underneath a raft while this time, he pulls her under water. The context here seems to be that he is taking away her sexuality. In other words, he putting her "fire" out.

The running theme involving the penis is that it's all about who has the biggest one. Early in the movie, a character goes to chop wood with a machete. It may not be as effective as say, an axe, but it has a longer blade. Later, when the power goes out, a guy grabs two flashlights and gives the girl the weaker of the two (she even looks at it with a sense of doubt). Another guy is looking at his friend's birthday presents and sees that he has received a personal penis enlarger. What's makes this more than a throwaway gag is that we don't know who gave it to him and we don't know whether or not it was meant as a joke. All of it plays like an attempt to show how lame it is when men try to prove or confirm their manhood. Look no further than a moment where a guy tells his sex partner that he is going to get them some food because he is the "hunter/gatherer."

The teenagers in Part 7 are probably the dorkiest bunch yet. They've got ultra cheesy '80s haircuts, dress in ugly clothes, and act like rejects from a John Hughes movie. They are also the most disrespectful kids the series has seen. Even though they are borrowing the house of one of the kid's uncle's, they have no problem eating his food, smoking pot, and making an ungodly mess. If the boys are concerned with penis size, the girls are competitive. Tina and a spoiled rich girl both like the kind hearted stud, while two nerds, one of them lacking in confidence, both like the pothead. Of course, the nice guy leans more towards Tina while the pathetic girl, complete with big glasses, loses out because she doesn't want to get high. In hopes she can drive his affection away from her friend, the girl ditches her extra set of eyes and dolls herself up with a new hairdo, a dress, and lots of makeup. This acts as an automatic red flag that she will be killed. Jason is punishing her for pretending to be something she's not (the guy never even gets to see her all dressed up). The scene where she is pursued by Jason is really well staged, and probably has the most tension filled moments in the picture.

The performances in the movie are, for the most part, atrocious. Like I've said before, good acting is not a necessity in the Friday the 13th movies, but these people have no idea what they're doing. Lar Park Lincoln, who supposedly auditioned four times(!) before she got the part, is over dramatic to an almost irritating degree and Susan Blu, who plays her mother, is even worse. The fact the latter has spent most of her career doing voice work for animated shows is not surprising. If anyone is worth mentioning, it's Kane Hodder, who plays Jason. He is apparently the fan favourite and it's easy to see why. Even though his face is kept hidden and he never speaks, Hodder is able to convey just how boring Jason's purpose is. Look at the way he plays the famous scene where he kills the girl in the sleeping bag. Not wanting to do the same old thing, he drags her out of a tent as she thrashes in the bag and swings her against a tree. It comes across as if he hates the fact she's there and he has to kill her.

As in Part 6, there are a handful of scenes featuring Jason simply wandering around. In the last movie, it felt like an attempt to show him reclaiming the forest as his home. Here, it feels like an act of boredom. Being alive is a burden, so when there are no people to kill, walking around is the best activity life has to offer. I've noticed in two or three of the movies (this one included) that Jason likes to cut the power in his victims' house, and I always wondered how he would have any concept of what he was doing. But upon deeper examination, it makes perfect sense. By "killing" the power, he's giving the victims a bit of foreshadowing as to what is about to happen to them. It's a way of letting them know there is no escape.

Friday the 13th Part VII is probably the best technically made entry in the series. The slick production bothered me with Part 6, but this time it isn't as flashy. Buechler has enough understanding of what components belong in a Friday the 13th movie, and with that being the case, the fact it's well made comes as an afterthought. He does a nice job paying homage to the earlier chapters. I already mentioned displaying his name before the credits and the girl skinny dipping; in addition, he duplicates the cat false alarm scare from Part 2 and the girl being thrown out the window from Part 4 (which actually plays a little better here). Also, his use of humor fits in as it should. There are some big laughs in the movie, many of them involving Jason's confusion as to what is happening around him. Being that he is a zombie, nothing should make any sense to him anymore. There's a beautifully timed moment during the climactic showdown between Tina and Jason where she uses her telekinesis to throw a potted plant at Jason that has a severed head propped in it. What makes it is so funny is not only Hodder's body language when it hits him, but also the sight of the head tumbling out.

The showdown makes very little sense. Tina has obviously figured out Jason cannot be killed (she tries to electrocute him, which of course doesn't work since that's how he was resurrected in Part 6), but nevertheless, she continues to throw simple objects at him. I mean really, what good is it going to do to throw a fucking sofa at Jason Voorhees? Anyways, as silly as the climax is, it can easily be forgiven when compared to the ending. The movie has two credited writers, and what they've come up with is the stuff of bad fiction. And I must say I was bit disappointed there are no shots of Jason after he meets his (supposed) demise. Even though it doesn't seem like anyone knew how to wrap the movie up, Friday the 13th Part VII is one of the most entertaining chapters in the series. More than anything, it took me back to the rush I got watching two through five and easily makes up for Part 6. Now let's hold our breath to see if we can stay sane through Jason Takes Manhattan.

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Copyright, Hell and Beyond, 2008

Slashing to the Bottom: George Mihalka's My Bloody Valentine

2008-08-21T19:21:00.000-07:00

After the overwhelming success of John Carpenter's Halloween, movie studios went into a slashing frenzy, most notably three years later with the release of Friday the 13th. Proving to be very profitable as well, Paramount Pictures took part in another movie that pulled elements from Carpenter's classic and their own recent hit, the result being My Bloody Valentine. Shot in Canada on about a $2 million budget, the picture, while visually interesting, lacks the subtext of the movies it borrows from. I could try to get past that if there was anything else to hold onto, but after the MPAA got their claws on the movie and chopped nine minutes worth of footage, all that's left are a bunch of stale characters, a corny story, and not a single gory moment (maybe they should have found a new title). The most baffling piece of the puzzle is that Paramount apparently still has the cut footage; they just have yet to release it to the fans.

The picture takes place in the small town of Valentine Bluffs, which, given its name, celebrates every Valentine's Day with a dance. A back story teaches that a bunch of murders occurred years ago during the festivities, with the threat being to never have the dance again or more people would die. Twenty years later, the mayor decides enough time has passed and a reunion is planned. However, the original killer, who was thought to be in a mental institution, has come back to protest. This is all well and good, I guess, but my first problem was when the movie announced that the date is "Thursday, February 12th," meaning of course that Valentine's Day will fall on Saturday the 14th. This is about as clever as the movie gets.

The young people in town might as well be the same ones who populate Crystal Lake every summer, although the movie makes the mistake of trying to give them actual hopes and fears (at least Friday the 13th only went so far as to label its sole survivor by giving her a simple talent). The biggest snoozer is a love triangle that develops between a girl and two men, one of whom left town, only to resurface years later. As expected, she's seeing someone else now and he wants her back. The feuding begins, but it's soap opera stuff, complete with some laughable music as the girl reminisces with her long lost lover by the sea. Almost every scene involving any of these three has to be about the sexual tension between them, and sadly, they're the characters with the most screentime!

The killings are ripped right out of Halloween and Friday the 13th. The killer wears a mask, has a signature weapon, and likes to sneak up on his victims. Despite the last part, there's nothing scary about what he's doing. Don't get me wrong, the Friday the 13th pictures aren't scary either, but at least you can find a method to the killer's pattern. If anything, the killer here is like Mrs. Voorhees from Part 1; he just wants the victim to die as quickly as possible(the fact he's punishing them for having a party feels like it belongs in today's current PG-13 horror offerings). Even though most everything is kept off screen, the movie does manage one memorable death scene. A girl tries to get away as mining uniforms hung from the ceiling drop onto her head. Even better though is the glimpse we get when her boyfriend comes back. Her head has been pushed through a shower nozzle, so all we see is her mouth and a stream of water at the side of the frame. The fact we get just enough to know what happened makes it all the creepier. Too bad the movie doesn't take better advantage of the other edited murder scenes in the same way.

The idea of a killer dressed in a miner outfit and a gas mask is pretty cool, and the opening scene promises something much better than it delivers. A woman and the masked man are in the mine, making out while she strokes the tube on the mask. I liked the implications about what the movie might explore, but soon learned it was all a facade to get the audience to stay past the opening credits. The most bearable portion of the movie is the last third, which takes place completely in the mine shaft. It's an ideal horror movie location with a lot of great possibilities, although director George Mihalka doesn't seem to have the slightest idea how to set up a good scare or even give a scene thematic weight. Sure, you could attempt to create some metaphors for the mine, but it'd be a waste of time in a movie that clearly is aiming for nothing more than cheap thrills.

Unlike the original Friday the 13th, My Bloody Valentine makes it fairly clear early in the movie who the killer is. There are plenty of supposed red herrings, but anyone who has seen a horror movie before will not likely be fooled. This wouldn't necessarily hurt the movie if the explanation for the killings were subtle and disturbing. However, the reasons we get are so routine and the killer's behavior is so stupid it seems unfair for the movie to let him live. My guess is the studio was hoping to develop a franchise out of the movie because like Friday the 13th, it's all set up with no real payoff. The payoff ultimately is that you get to turn the movie off when (or before) it's over.

I know My Bloody Valentine has a great deal of admirers, one of which is Quentin Tarantino (he chose it as his favourite slasher movie!). Aside from the originality of the setting, I can't really see what would draw someone to revisit this movie more than once. It's bad enough the central romance is stale but even worse, there's very little of the subtle humor found throughout the Friday the 13th pictures (I will confess there was one moment that made me laugh involving a pot of boiling hot dogs). And worse than that, the killer's way of communicating with the police is by writing morbid Valentine's Day poems and literally sending them a human heart. It's clear given how hard this movie tries to please the audience that a heart, for that matter any sign of life, would have made a difference. Do yourself a favor and watch Friday the 13th instead. It may be empty, but at least it's not dumb.

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Copyright, Hell and Beyond, 2008

The Name's Voorhees...Jason Voorhees: Tom McLoughlin's Jason Lives: Friday the 13th Part VI

2008-08-17T18:06:00.000-07:00

Film critic Alex Jackson suggests that humor in the Friday the 13th series should not be overt, but that the audience should have to search for it. I couldn't agree with him more. In the earlier installments, there are very funny moments and the great thing about them is you don't quite realize they've occurred until a few minutes later. It's these little throwaway laughs that help make the series so special as a whole and give each chapter, even if they may be lacking in other elements, enough reason to make them worth the experience. I never would have suspected the Friday the 13th movies of having such a strange sense of humor; in a way, it almost makes them science fiction. Most of the humor comes not from the bizarre supporting characters, but from the principal players or Jason himself. I still get a kick out of how awkwardly he moves around in Part 2.

It is with this in mind that I approach Jason Lives: Friday the 13th Part VI. The movie has a tough challenge on one hand, since it has to actually find a way to resurrect an unquestionably deceased Jason. Even more so, the picture has to establish what he is going to be like now that he's truly been dead. Writer/director Tom McLoughlin, who is the first to take the sole writing and directing credit, develops an interesting idea for how to handle this new Jason. The problem is what he's done with the humor. Instead of respecting a franchise that has played by a certain set of rules, he throws caution to the wind and has created a movie that thrives on pushing every detail into our faces and ruining the only human character in the series with any real potential to grow. But I'll get to Tommy later.

The opening sequence sets the mood for things to come. The shots of the lake and the forest are familiar; it's ultimately the music that threw me off and let me know I was in for something considerably different. Instead of hearing a hint of impending danger, the score this time is much more playful, preparing the audience for a much lighter tone. And the absurdity doesn't stop there. Tommy Jarvis (Thom Mathews) convinces a friend to go with him to dig up Jason's grave so he can be sure the root of his psychological problems is "really dead." After opening the coffin to reveal the half rotted corpse, Tommy stabs Jason's body with an iron rod, which gets struck by lightening and supplies a monster movie style rebirth. I understand Tommy wanted to see Jason's body. It is in a way impossible for him to live without Jason anymore. It's when you get to the whole re-establishment that he's gone and not coming back that I have issues.

What fascinates about the resurrection is that Jason seemed happy to finally be put out of the misery of having to kill people. Now he's been awakened and is no longer human, so his actions should be a bit more robotic. Sure enough, once out of the grave, he punches Tommy's friend and his fist goes straight through the body. Jason is basically just a simple being with super strength and the same purpose as before: kill. If he did function like a zombie, I could have bought into this new Jason. However, he somehow has adopted a style of rational thinking that would have been fitting when he was still human, but now comes off as a stretch and a poor attempt to build suspense and earn laughs. For instance, he makes it a habit a couple of times of jumping in to startle people before he kills them. He messes with a couple in a car by knocking out the headlights and flattening a tire. How would he have any concept of that? The fact that he toys with his victims, almost as if it's a game, shows just how shallow the movie is (don't get me started on the utility belt he finds to hold all his weapons). I defended Jason's almost playful tendencies in the earlier movies because there, it made sense; he was communicating in the only way he knew how.

If there is something about Jason that stands out, even if it's inconsistent with his new behavior, it's the way he reacts to people as if he's never encountered them before. There are a handful of moments where people say or do things and his head tilts as if he's confused. It's a nice touch, but one that feels wrong when placed with his new found smarts. If McLoughlin does have one appealing idea, it's the way he shows numerous shots of Jason wandering through the forest. I don't recall that happening in the previous chapters, and I must say there's something about it that feels right. It's as if Jason has some memory of this place being his home and he wants everybody else to get out. I wish this had been pushed to its full potential, but once anything in this movie gets close to finding a rhythm, the cheap jokes come back into effect.

Ah, the jokes. Jason Lives makes it a point to be as self referential as possible, so much so that one can almost hear McLoughlin begging you to slap your knee with delight. An opening riff featuring Jason walking across the screen like James Bond and throwing his machete at the camera is supposed to suggest he's become an icon, although it left me with more of a Naked Gun type vibe than a Friday the 13th one. The movie's biggest mistake, though, is the fact that all the characters are in on it, too. If you recall, I've talked a good deal about why the people in this series have to be empty vessels. By making them aware of what's happening, it totally undermines why they exist in the first place and makes it almost insulting that they'd be stupid enough to let Jason kill them. The lamest gag in the movie involves a group of businesspeople playing paintball. Once they've been shot, they are required to wear a bandanna that labels them as "DEAD." Seeing this onscreen was the equivalent to someone tapping you on the shoulder over and over while saying, "Do you get it? Do you get it? Do you get it?"

Jason Lives is crucial to the series only because it's where he finally picked up his trademark machete. Considering most of his murders are "rape by steel" (as named by Alex Jackson), it's appropriate Jason finally decides to make it his signature weapon. The movie blatantly tries to make the connection between Jason and his machete in a POV shot of someone holding the bloody machete as they walk towards a sleeping girl (it turns out to be a little girl! Why she would have picked it up is baffling). Jason's pattern this time out is similar to the ones in the early pictures, meaning that the kills are quick and the target area is the head or neck. This is crucial since Jason is starting over and will have to re-discover his craft (although if he is a zombie, technically there may be no craft).

It's bad enough the movie works overtime to be hip and funny; what's worse is how the movie destroys the buildup of the Tommy Jarvis character. In The Final Chapter, he was a mirror image of Jason and in A New Beginning, he was still traumatized after killing Jason and at the end, it looked as though he was going to become him. What should have happened this time then, was Tommy should have taken over for the deceased Jason or they should have each held half of the same mind. What I'm trying to say is, what one does the other repeats at precisely the same moment. McLoughlin is obviously not that clever, for instead of doing something ambitious with the character, he turns Tommy into a standard movie scapegoat. Once he brings Jason back, the local police blame all the murders on him. Tommy insists that it's Jason, but naturally they think he's crazy and lock him up. It's the reliable old innocent-man-wrongly-accused scenario. The real nail in the coffin is the incorporation of a female love interest/sidekick, who, as Alex Jackson pointed out, undermines Tommy because it makes him identifiable with the other human characters, therefore defeating the purpose of why he was in the series in the first place.

It's unforgivable, really. Even if Jason Lives does provide some simple pleasures, the way it mocks the movies before it is hard look past. I can give the movie a few points for finally bringing back the counselors and for showing campers for the first time, although it seems rather pointless. Not only does it look like a poorly run camp (no one seems to know what they're doing), but, save for one little girl, none of the campers seem to worry that their lives are in danger. In fact, one of the boys even jokes about it ("What did you want to be when you grow up?")! The counselors don't really get the kind of screentime they did in the earlier chapters. There's only one sex scene in the movie, with both parties mostly clothed and the act itself is so over the top you can tell it's meant as another "wink wink" moment.

McLoughlin has sucked all the life out of a Friday the 13th movie. Part of me has to wonder if he even watched any of them before he starting writing this one. If he had, he would have noticed that the others were shot in a very plain style that lends to the simplistic nature of the series. Working with a budget of only about $3 million, McLoughlin has made a very crisp looking movie, complete with some fancy dolly shots and a great deal more camera movement (outside of POVs) than the series is used to. I'm not suggesting I'm opposed to camera movement; I just think that style is not something that belongs in this series. It takes the gritty appeal away.

I know many will disagree with me, as this is a fan favorite. Like Jackson, I am confused by this, for you would think that someone who has followed this series closely would not want to see Jason (and Tommy for that matter) turned into corny gags and self satisfying in jokes. If I had seen Jason Lives and was not familiar with the rest of the movies, I probably would have adored it. As it stands, I find it to be biggest disappointment so far, an entry I would only revisit if I decided to watch the whole series again. All I can hope for is that, even though he did survive, Tommy Jarvis is not brought back again. This movie has made him dead to me.

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Copyright, Hell and Beyond, 2008

You Can't Keep a Good Psycho Killer Down: Danny Steinmann's Friday the 13th: A New Beginning

2008-08-11T18:26:00.000-07:00

Jason took a machete through the head at the end of The Final Chapter, an indicator the series should indeed be coming to a close. On the flip side, the introduction of Tommy Jarvis offered the opportunity to develop a whole new character, not to mention one who's childhood traits mirrored Jason's. The opening of Friday the 13th: A New Beginning is the first since the original not to be comprised completely of flashbacks. It's the studio's way of letting the audience know they are trying to make a fresh start, and what better way to do that than with a dream sequence? The pre-teen Tommy watches a couple of idiots dig up Jason's grave, which in turn brings the finally put down monster back to life and after Tommy. Of course, he wakes in a cold sweat, only for us to discover that quite a few years have passed.

This is the first jump in time the series has taken so far and by the looks of it, the years have not been good to Tommy (John Shepherd). After killing Jason, he got shipped to a mental institution but apparently made enough progress that now he's eligible to go to a "youth development center." The bulk of the picture takes place there, with Tommy being surrounded by an assortment of nutty residents. A New Beginning somehow manages to have sillier characters than Part 3 and believe it or not, they're not limited to Tommy's house mates. The gold medal goes to a backwoods bumpkin and her grown son, who still acts like he's eight. Like the bikers in Part 3, they exist to provide some easy laughs.

The changes in Tommy are brought front and center early on. The nightmares lead us to wonder if his violent tendencies are still intact (a dream he has late in the movie more or less says yes). Once he moves into the house, we see that, even after all those years, he's held onto all his homemade masks, a sign that he's still keeping his true self hidden. Most surprising are Tommy's fighting skills. There's an early scene where one of the house mates messes with him and Tommy proceeds to beat the tar out of him. It's an interesting character trait because it makes us wonder if he learned self defense in case Jason ever did come back to find him.

Aside from the youth center owners, no one else there is likable or sympathetic at all. Most of them act as if they have mental defects, so their behavior is annoying and often cruel. The movie's first kill isn't even committed by Jason. An overweight slob named Joey (Dominick Brascia), who apparently just wants to help around the house but makes a mess, pisses off one of his house mates and gets chopped up. At first, the scene doesn't make much sense. Once the big twist is revealed (I'll get to that shortly) and you think back over the events of the movie, it fits it in as it should. True, it's a gimmick, albeit a worthy one of this series.

Jason's first victims are a couple of greasers whose car won't start. They're the atypical Friday the 13th characters in that they talk horribly about women and the size of their dick is measured by how loud their engine revs. Appropriate then that victim number three also has a sports car and only cares about getting laid. In his case, we meet the girl he's hoping to get it on with, and even watch her get ready, a strange ritual that includes flashing her boobs. If this feels unnecessary, it's not; the needless exposure of flesh is an invitation for the flesh to later be penetrated (it's brought up again later at the youth center when a girl inexplicably goes to bed topless, only to be stabbed a moment later from under her bed).

Jason penetrates quite a bit of flesh in the movie, bringing back in Alex Jackson's idea of "rape by steel." There are quite a few in the movie, the most severe ones happening to female characters. Despite the familiarity of these murders, there's plenty of evidence to prove the real Jason is not at work here. First off, we never actually see him resurrected. Secondly, the style of the killings does not fit the pattern shown in The Final Chapter. Yes, some of them are quite brutal (a road flare to the mouth takes the cake), but others feel more in tune with the earlier entries in that the killer wants the victims to die quickly. Strangely, this Jason has a brief obsession with eyes and mainly reserves it for the two characters in the movie who have sex. The girl loses her sight to hedge trimmers while the guy is strapped to a tree with his eyes covered. Punishment for sex is not uncommon, especially after the last movie, but for the first time, the killer is showing his disapproval of the couple's visual lust for one another.

Most of the graphic violence happens off screen. We see the weapon rise into the air and often see the aftermath, but there are only several instances where we see contact made. I would think this was a decision made by the MPAA, who was notorious for picking on all the movies in the series. And yet, the lack of actual onscreen carnage doesn't hurt the picture in the long run. It almost feels more appropriate since we're not really witnessing Jason doing his worst; you could say the movie is mocking the fact that someone dared to act as a copycat. One tidbit I noticed is that this is the first entry in the series where Jason does not run. I'm not sure if that was the filmmaker's way of letting the audience know this is not the real Jason, but I'd buy that theory.

As noted, there are elements worth mentioning here, but in all honesty, the picture's most appealing aspect is brought in at the very end when Jason is killed and the mask comes off. When you scroll back through what's happened, the signs of who the knock off was were right in front of you the whole time. One of the paramedics who came to take Joey's body away was his father, and I guess the sight of seeing him in pieces drove the guy nuts. It may not sound like much of a concept, but when you compare Joey's father to Mrs. Voorhees, it takes on a whole new level of discussion. Unfortunately, we don't get the psychoanalysis that we did for Jason's mother; in this movie, it functions as more of a plot twist.

Danny Steinmann took the director's chair for A New Beginning, but sometimes it's hard to tell if he's making a horror movie or a comedy. There's a lot of violence all right, although it looks like there are twice as many attempts to earn a cheap laugh. I mentioned the bumpkins earlier, but in addition to them there is a machete/chainsaw duel, a goofy dance routine (it doesn't even come close to reaching the heights of Crispin Glover's from the last entry), a rabbit used as a false sense of security (echoes of Part 3), and a pre-teen character, this one named Reggie (Shavar Ross). The difference between he and Tommy is that Reggie is black and does not seem intimidated when Jason is in action. It's a thankless and stereotypical role, and frankly I'm not surprised Shavar Ross declined the chance to reprise it.

So, even though Friday the 13th: A New Beginning looks and feels like it belongs in the series, it doesn't contribute much without Jason. My opinion would differ if the picture had made real progress with Tommy's growing madness, which is there, but is kept off screen until the last five minutes. The decision to do so announces the fifth chapter as a companion piece with the first one, since it is basically all set up with no real payoff. Knowing already that Tommy is in Part 6 has me holding my breath in hopes that his character will not be left in vain. His introduction in the last movie was too crucial for it to be left in the dust.

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Copyright, Hell and Beyond, 2008

All Grown Up and Incredibly Pissed Off: Joseph Zito's Friday the 13th: The Final Chapter

2008-08-09T18:50:00.000-07:00

"God, I'm horny."

That line is the key to Friday the 13th: The Final Chapter, since this is the first entry in the series where it looks like the characters are getting killed because of their obsession with sex. In Part 3, all the guys were randy, but by adding the girls to the mix, it makes for a lethal combination. It doesn't help that Jason is severely pissed off. The picture opens with the campfire scene from Part 2, in which a character tells the supposed legend of Jason Voorhees. The whole sequence is inner cut with the murders from the first three pictures, basically as a way of saying if this happens to be your starting point, now you'll be caught up. If you're watching the Friday the 13th movies strictly for the violence, you should be pleased. But if it's subtext you're seeking, then I doubt it will do much for you.

After the obligatory recap, the action moves to the farmhouse where Jason took an axe to the head. An ambulance ships him off to the morgue, and the scene ends with a lingering shot of the the setting, an ominous sign that Jason's life is far from over. It is in the morgue that the picture's key theme about the danger of sex is introduced. A doctor shamelessly pushes himself onto a nurse, all the while watching a cheesy women's workout program to help set the mood. As soon as they begin getting into it, Jason's hand twitches. It's as if their promiscuity brings him back so he can punish them for it, and punish them he does!

I talked in the last essay about why Jason kills. Is it fun for him, or is it a chore? It's hard to tell in The Final Chapter, because when Jason comes back, he's obviously not happy that a potential victim was able to get the upper hand. Convinced this will not happen again, he ups the stakes by killing in the most horrifying ways possible. While the first three pictures were all about quick kills, this time he makes them last so he can witness the victim's agony. The nature of what he's doing is so extreme if it ever was fun, it's probably past that point. At the same time, it feels like he doesn't want his role to be without enjoyment; all the kills in the picture are sneak attacks, except instead of saying "boo," the surprise is a sharp object. If you do happen to see him coming, you're not going to get far. Jason is finally on the fringe of becoming a completely unstoppable force (wait until you see him smash straight through a wooden door).

It's clear to me that the adolescent phase is over for Jason. The clumsiness and lack of confidence he showed in the earlier movies has been replaced by sheer determination. He knows what he's alive to do and failure is not an option. What's interesting, though, is how his kills become a reflection of the sexual behavior of the people he's killing. Critic Alex Jackson describes it as "rape by steel," since the flesh is being pierced. There are number of scenes in The Final Chapter that display this idea to the fullest extent. The most sexually active character in the movie is shot in the crotch with a spear gun, an image that illustrates the parallel, but takes full context once Jason pulls the trigger. Equally as apparent is a murder where Jason stabs the victim over and over in heavy thrusting motions.

The girls are just as itchy in the pants as the boys this time out. Even so, the boys are still the ones that approach women as if they are nothing more than strange beings that exist just to fill sexual desires (notice how one male character equates treating a girl right to sexual satisfaction). Two of the guys have girlfriends already, but the other two are single and desperate. There's Ted (Lawrence Monoson), who thinks he's a smooth operator because he talks a lot of game; and Jimmy (Crispin Glover), the insecure loser who's meant to mirror Shelly from Part 3. Yeah, he mopes and complains, but Jimmy is not seen as pathetically as Shelly, even though Ted constantly makes fun of his libido by calling him a "dead fuck." Of course, the irony of all this is the fact that director Joseph Zito decides to reward the nice nerdy guy and humiliate the trash talking wannabe stud. To our surprise, Jimmy does get some action, and it's a good thing since we know his demise will be right around the corner. Same for Ted, who naturally gets overlooked by the girls, finds an old stag film, and has to get his rocks off by watching a series of unattractive women dance naked.

The pattern that has been consistent in all four Friday the 13th movies so far is that the sole survivor is the virginal teenage girl. They may not be sane when the whole thing is done, but they are still alive. The one in this entry is probably the least interesting thus far, although her character really bares little importance. Instead, the picture spends a good bit of time on her pre-teen brother, Tommy (Corey Feldman), who's interests show that he's somewhat of a kindred spirit to Jason. The early scenes with him fascinate; his mother comes off as a bit overbearing, which reminds of Mrs. Voorhees's behavior from the first picture. He makes his own creature masks, proving that, like Jason, what's normal lives within you and is not based on what other's can see. Interesting then that Jason hides his hideous face with a plain mask while Tommy covers his regular features with ugliness.

Tommy's connection to Jason comes full circle during the climax when he has to save his sister from being slashed. The way Tommy's retaliation is shot turns out to be quite chilling, as it shows him stabbing Jason over and over but the camera only focuses on the aggressor. Jason's demise in this picture is his most gruesome yet, appropriate given how uncompromising the rest of it is. This is the first movie in the series where I can say I found the violence genuinely disturbing. Tom Savini came back on board, only because he was told Jason was getting killed off for good (I wonder how he feels now), and his gore effects are top notch as expected (Savini and director Joseph Zito previously teamed up on the equally viscous The Prowler). You never feel truly sorry for any of the characters; how could you? If a Friday the 13th movie were to create sympathetic characters, it would defeat the purpose of watching it in the first place and in essence, Jason would have no reason to exist.

So, the movie was said to be "the final chapter" and yet, another surfaced soon after. I think Jason's hand continuing to twitch after he's taken down should be a good enough indicator that he's not ready to die. Having finally reached his peak (and having been killed twice), Jason's cynicism is certain to only grow deeper. What's more intriguing, though, is to see what the series will do with the Tommy Jarvis character. Being that he is the first pre-teen to come along, there's a lot of potential to continue the development of his and Jason's "relationship." And with the assumption that Tommy's mother is dead (she disappears and is not seen again), a whole other door of connections are opened with ways to push Tommy over the edge. The possibilities are as exciting as they are unpredictable, and Friday the 13th: The Final Chapter is the best entry the series has offered so far.

Thank you for visiting Hell and Beyond!

Copyright, Hell and Beyond, 2008

On the Brink of Manhood: Steve Miner's Friday the 13th Part III

2008-08-07T18:48:00.001-07:00

Due to the lukewarm box office success of Friday the 13th Part 2, the third installment was supposed to bring the series to an end. To go out with a bang, the studio figured they might be able to cash in on the 3D bandwagon. With Steve Miner back in the director's chair, you'd think the movie would follow in the footsteps of its predecessor when it came to style and tone. This does not turn out to be the case, though; strangely enough, Miner has a made a movie that is a true conundrum, and not all of it has to do with the corny 3D inspired shots.

As with Part 2, but thankfully without an over abundance of footage, the new movie opens by showing the final showdown between Jason and Ginny. News footage reveals she was taken to the hospital and that's the last we ever hear of her. At first, I figured Jason would be driven on finishing her off, but since she didn't kill his mother, he must have forgotten her quickly. Thanks (or no thanks) to Ginny, it's doubtful Jason will fall for someone pretending to be his mother again, since he clearly saw her severed head while being taunted. The movie's true opening scene involves a bitter couple who own a convenience store. The husband sneaks junk food off the shelves while his bitchy wife complains about his eating habits and the fact he won't help with the laundry. Like the classic scene at the end of Part 2 containing the dog, the new entry features a bunny rabbit whose meant to represent a false sense of security. This time, however, Miner makes it quite apparent no one will be safe by showing two shots of dead rabbits, one of which is roadkill.

That the couple gets it should come as no surprise, even though this opening is definitely not what I was expecting from a Friday the 13th movie. For the first time, the characters are quite cartoonish, and it doesn't stop there. The principal players are just as goofy and don't really look like they belong together. There are six teenagers (or early twenty somethings, take your pick) and two middle aged hippies. These are the horniest young people we've come across so far - even the nice guys seem to be itchy in the pants. In that sense, I guess you could say it makes them more deserving of Jason's wraith than the poor suckers from Part 2. While some of them were painted sympathetically, there's only one character this time we might even want to see survive (and she does).

The setting this time is a cabin the survivor, Chris (Dana Kimmell), lived in as a child. The build up to the kills has a few new elements, each of them centered around Shelly (Larry Zerner), a helpless nerd who gets set up with one of Chris's friends. He's insecure to say the least, trying to gain acceptance by faking his death with a phony hatchet to the head or sneaking up on someone while they're sitting at the boat dock. His real breakthrough comes when he stands up to a trio of bikers by running over one their motorcycles. When this happened, I wondered if Miner wanted us to like Shelly, but due to his annoying behavior, it's hard to tell. If anything, he's unquestionably the most original character to emerge in a Friday the 13th movie so far and the only one who looks like he has a good relationship with an adult (we get a quick glimpse of a photo in his wallet of him with his mother). Ultimately, he turns out to be just as disposable as the rest - the bikers are only in the movie to throw Jason a few more people to slash (and to provide some comic relief - it's amusing when one of them just happens to still be alive at the end).

The performances are the worst the series has offered so far. They were serviceable in the first two movies, so what happened this time? The tone is all over the map. It's as if Miner wanted to take his sense of fun from Part 2 and let it run haywire. If you don't believe me, just listen to the score during the opening credits. Instead of the classic theme, we get some discoesque concoction that sounds like it belongs on a '70s sci-fi program. Speaking of which, everyone in the movie acts like they're from another planet; even Jason, who's not quite as clumsy as he was in the last movie, slumbers around like he's just learned how to walk.

Jason seems to be more in tune with what he is once the movie starts rolling. It's as if the ending to Part 2 made him aware that his mother really is dead and he does not have to kill for her. He's simply doing it because that's the only thing he knows how to do. Critic Alex Jackson suggests it's his way of trying to connect with others, which is an easy idea to accept. When he tries to kill someone and they fight back, why shouldn't he think they're just trying to speak his language? It's no stretch either to say that Jason's sprees could be viewed as a kind of game. Look at the finale when he literally tears a barn apart trying to find Chris. It all plays like a psychotic version of hide and seek, especially since he knows there's no one left after her (it's as if he still doesn't know how to cope with running out of people to kill). The murders are pretty brutal, but any real shock value is sucked away by the attempt to have them work with the 3D gimmick. The biggest groaner is easily a scene where Jason squeezes a guy's head until his eye pops out and shoots straight at the camera. The non 3D murders are the most graphic the series has offered so far, suggesting, and we'll get into this more later, that Jason is either enjoying what he's doing or is treating it like a chore that needs to be marked off a list.

There are two things about the movie that stood out over everything else. One is the physical look of the women. In the past two, they've all been shown in skimpy outfits, tight jeans, or lingerie at some time or another; in Part 3, only one women is ever shown in a bikini and when she does get naked, the bare body shots are so quick you'll probably miss them (not to mention we discover she's pregnant, which could be an automatic mood killer). The other women are dressed in very unflattering clothes. Miner has more or less stripped all the sexual appeal out of the movie, which is fascinating because it makes the female characters more innocent and less deserving of their violent deaths. I also find it fascinating that so many people think Friday the 13th movies are only about camp counsellors getting picked off. From what I can tell, Jason does not discriminate, and has probably killed just as many middle aged folks as he has teens.

The second point I wanted to make was about Jason himself. I mentioned earlier how awkwardly he walks, but even more so, there's something odd about his whole demeanor. In this picture, he looks like nothing more than a big man, meaning that he's still developing. The more he kills, the more he'll evolve until eventually, he'll be a towering force. At this point, he feels pain and is vocal about it, not unlike a kid with a skinned knee. Jason bleeds too, and is himself killed at the end of the picture, at first leading us to believe he is dead. Taking a cue from the original movie, Chris wakes up in a canoe and thinks she sees Jason, unmasked, looking at her from an upstairs window in the cabin. It is at that point, Jason's dead and decrepit mother comes out of the water and grabs her. This could be read as a tacked on attempt to let us know the studio changed their mind about ending the franchise; I'd rather see it as a way of showing that now, Jason and his mother are one and the same.

Friday the 13th Part III is a bit disappointing in the long run. Maybe if Steve Miner had not come back, it wouldn't have felt that way. I just had hoped he'd push Jason's transition a little further than he does. Instead, too much time is wasted on the dopey 3D, a decision that gives the production a sloppy overall feel it probably wouldn't have had otherwise. Due to the 3D, the movie was shot in the scope aspect ratio (it's the only entry in the series that isn't matted), and it hurts the movie on a tension level. It's harder to build an environment of claustrophobia when there's so much open space. I'm relieved the series never used it again. There's plenty to chew on in Friday the 13th Part III; it's not quite as entertaining as Part 2, although it is pretty kick ass to see Jason with his signature hockey mask for the first time.

Thank you for visiting Hell and Beyond!

Copyright, Hell and Beyond, 2008

How Fast Can You Swim?: Greg McLean's Rogue

2008-08-05T19:50:00.000-07:00

Greg McLean's Wolf Creek is quite possibly the most underrated horror movie of the decade. Unfairly labeled as "torture porn" and dumped in theaters on Christmas Day(!) by those dastardly Weinsteins, the picture was terrifying, and it wasn't just because of the violence. McLean created real characters and put them in a place that was at once uncomfortable and dangerous. By doing this, throwing a madman into the mix felt like an added threat to the already apparent tension. McLean is a native Australian, so it's interesting that his movies make the viewer leery about wanting to visit.

Given my enthusiasm in regards to Wolf Creek, I couldn't wait to see what McLean would do next. The Weinsteins came back on board as producers for his follow up, Rogue, but as expected, the project got screwed over. Early buzz was exciting, which inexplicably wasn't enough for the former Miramax heads, so they gave the picture an almost invisible theatrical run and then dumped it on video. The fact I did not get to experience Rogue on the big screen is a shame to be sure, for like Wolf Creek, it features jaw dropping cinematography you don't normally see in a horror picture - especially one that revolves around a thirty foot crocodile.

Yep, it's true, Greg McLean has made a creature feature and at first, I can't say I was too crazy about the idea. What made Wolf Creek so effective was the way it championed genuine suspense over traditional horror tactics. My assumption (and you know what is said about those) was that since McLean was making a killer crocodile picture, it was going to be an excuse for him to have a bloodthirsty monster turn a bunch of frightened humans into lunch. Instead of taking the easy way out though, McLean has called my bluff and made a movie that works for many of the same reasons his last one did. It's not quite as strong as Wolf Creek, but still rather impressive.

The picture's greatest weakness is its characters. The main focus is on Pete (Michael Vartan), a travel magazine journalist who is in Australia for a couple of days and decides to take a boat tour guided by Kate (the gorgeous Radha Mitchell). The ten or so other tourists are your usual assortment of horror movie cutouts, automatically leading us to believe they're all going to end up devoured by the time the final credits roll. That they don't is to McLean's credit. He's more concerned with establishing a series of hyper tense moods based on the characters' fear of when the crocodile will strike. It's strange the way he throws in nice little moments for a few of the characters but never takes things further than that.

The early scenes of the movie are filled with unbelievably luscious aerial shots of Australia that, according to McLean, have never been seen on film before. Eventually, all the beautiful landscapes lead to an overhead view of the tour boat riding through a narrow path, a sure sign that something bad is on the horizon. As expected, the crocodile lets the tourists know they're on his turf by ramming the boat and causing a leak that leaves it shipwrecked on a small island. Land would normally be a welcome sight; that is, until someone notices that the tide is coming in and before sundown, there won't be a dry area left to stand on.

McLean has definitely studied his monster movies. The crocodile is kept well hidden for almost an hour, although there are a handful of appropriate teases pertaining to his actual size. The attacks are nicely spread out and amazingly, we don't see very many of them occur. This is certain to disappoint genre fans, but for those who like to put themselves in the characters' shoes, it makes the situation that much scarier. Even given the limited setting once the boat crashes, McLean still manages to keep the visuals appealing. The nighttime scenes are rather striking, mainly when pertaining to the long shots.

Naturally, a movie like Rogue needs a worthy monster, and I was quite taken with the one on display here. A combination of puppetry and CGI, the crocodile only looks fake during a couple of scenes. It's a good thing too, because otherwise, the Final Showdown (which may very well be the best act of the picture) would have zero chance of succeeding. I can understand why McLean wanted to make Rogue; what horror director wouldn't want to helm a creature feature? As I mentioned before though, if it's gore or elaborate kills you're looking for, you'd be better off renting Lake Placid, Alligator, or the dozens of low budget killer crocodile movies that are currently collecting dust on many a video store shelves. This picture is in a different league than the others (though I must confess Alligator is pretty fun), even if I can say it's a step forward for McLean. More than anything, it's further proof his career is one worth following.

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Copyright, Hell and Beyond, 2008

The Adolescence of Jason: Steve Miner's Friday the 13th Part 2

2008-08-04T18:36:00.000-07:00

Paramount Pictures must have been overwhelmed with the success of Friday the 13th, given that the sequel was released almost exactly one year after its predecessor. Sean S. Cunningham handed the directing duties over to Steve Miner, who was obviously proud to be contributing to this growing franchise. Before the pre-credit sequence, there's a title card letting us know we're about to watch "A Steve Miner Film," so if we enjoy it there's no question who we should thank. My guess would be that Miner was excited about making Friday the 13th Part 2 because he got to give us our first glimpse of Jason in action. The result is not quite what I was expecting.

The pre-credit sequence is so overdone it's exhausting. Alice (once again played by Adrienne King), the lone survivor of Mrs. Voorhees's reign of terror, is having a nightmare made up of footage from the first movie. A few refreshers would be sufficient, but for some reason, Miner feels the need to assault us with about a dozen clips. By the time the actual movie starts, I was relieved and a bit weary about what I was getting into. It's a frequent rule in horror sequels that the survivor from the last movie is not allowed to live in this one, and shortly after Alice's flashbacks of torment, Jason finds her. He's all grown up now and living in the woods near Crystal Lake, complete with his mother's severed head and the sweater she wore while avenging his death.

The set up is very similar to the one from the first movie. The counselors arrive at camp a few days early in order to get things ready and are eventually the victims of an unstoppable killing force. What sets this entry apart from the last chapter is the approach to the material. Miner has a lot of fun playing with the conventions, and actually builds some real suspense in ways I would not have anticipated. I mentioned in the last review how the most likable character, the one I expected to live to the end, was the first one taken out. I had a similar vibe this time when an attractive blond named Ginny (Amy Steel)is introduced. She arrives late, and when the head counselor scolds her, she responds by saying she is sorry and she will not be late again for the rest of her life. It seems like this should be a red flag, but sure enough, Ginny, who certainly comes close to getting slashed on a number of occasions, is still alive once the end credits roll.

The voyeuristic POV tactic felt ripped off from Halloween in the first movie, so instead of simply duplicating the style, Miner uses it as an opportunity to make the audience uncomfortable. The camera stalks the characters even when Jason isn't around, which leads to some truly surprising shots. The most impressive aspect of it is the fact he's able to get mileage out of doing this throughout the whole movie. It could have worn out its welcome really fast, but every so often, Miner will find a way to wink at the audience to give us some relief (like when a character who has been skinny dipping throws her towel over the camera).

Surprisingly, the first counselor isn't offed until about the fifty one minute mark. There are a few murders before then, but I must say I hadn't really noticed how much time had passed because the movie was having such a good time toying with me. The killings, just as in the first movie, are not particularly scary but just as brutal. Jason apparently took a cue from his mother, as he prefers sharp weapons and his objective is for the victim to die quickly. Although while Jason's mother felt she was being "guided" by her son to kill, there's never any evidence (at least not until the end) that Mrs. Voorhees is asking Jason to avenge her death. During the climactic chase, Ginny finds Jason's hideout and puts his mother's sweater on, convinced that seeing it will be enough to fool him into believing she is his mother.

It makes sense because as far as we can tell, Jason has no perception of the difference between male and female. His entrance at the end of the first movie was technically his "birth" (he came out of the water, after all), so this would serve as his period of adolescence. Miner handles it with a great deal of awkwardness and bizarre humor. Jason, while super strong, is a bit of a klutz and gets caught off guard on several instances. My favourite has to be when Ginny is hiding under the bed and Jason decides to wait for her by standing on a chair. Once she begins to creep out, he lunges to stab her with a pitchfork and loses his balance.

As shown at the end of the first movie, Jason has a deformed face. Somehow he has become conscious of this, so he keeps himself disguised with a cloth sack that contains one eye hole. It is inevitable that we will see his face at some point, so at the tail end of the picture, when he flies through a window to let the audience know he's not dead, his grotesque features are displayed front and center. The set up to his reveal is priceless. Horror pictures love to create a false sense of hope at the end, especially when we damn well know the killer isn't dead (I don't know how the characters could have thought Jason was dead after slicing into his shoulder with a machete). Ginny and her boyfriend finally believe they are safe, and they rest easier when one of the other counselor's lost dog (named Muffin) wanders back to the cabin. Just as they are beaming over the tiny furball, Jason comes crashing in.

I mentioned in the last review how the first movie felt like all setup. Friday the 13th Part 2 should be the beginning of the payoff but interestingly, it still feels like more setup. Is this a weakness? Yes and no. Yes, because it's taking the series a long time to find a consistent rhythm and no because Jason needs time to get comfortable with what he is. I say "what" instead of "who" because there is no proof that Jason is human anymore. After drowning, he was re-born not as a man, but an instrument of destruction. This is an area I am looking to see explored more as the series progresses, and the fact Miner came back to make Part 3 gives me hope he will continue to find new ways to keep the same set up fresh. Let's keep our fingers crossed.

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Copyright, Hell and Beyond, 2008

Setting Up for an Extended Payoff: Sean S. Cunningham's Friday the 13th

2008-07-29T15:06:00.000-07:00

Film critic Alex Jackson suggests that the Friday the 13th series, as a collective whole, is one of the great cinematic experiences. This certainly came as a shock to me, as I have always been of the popular mindset that if you've seen one Friday the 13th movie, you've seen them all. Aside from that, it's not often you look at a horror series and are able to appreciate it as a large body of work. For instance, the Halloween series simply has good and bad entries, as does A Nightmare on Elm Street, etc. Sure, we could watch the whole series and separate the good from the bad, but I don't think I could step back and say the Halloween series is a great or even good cinematic experience. Collectively, it's decent at best.

Having not seen any of the Paramount Friday the 13th movies in many a moon, I decided I'd rise up to Jackson's challenge and see if I can share (or even detect) his enthusiasm for the series. The first picture, shot in 1979 and released in 1980, was Sean S. Cunningham's attempt to make his own version of Halloween. Having worked with Wes Craven on Last House on the Left, Cunningham wanted to put that experience behind him and make a straightforward popcorn movie. It's hard to know for sure if he planned on there being a sequel from the start. Naturally, the picture ends with an obvious opening, but the screenwriter, Victor Miller, didn't plan on the movie developing into a franchise. In fact, he was quite upset that Jason Voorhees became the killer in the future installments.

It makes sense the movie spawned a sequel; for it to have stood alone would have been really cheap, since the first picture feels like nothing more than an extended set up with no real payoff. Had Jason not been brought in as the basis for the next movie, the last third, in which his mother finally reveals herself to be the killer, would have come across as a hurried and tacked on plot device. That's the way it feels while watching the movie, anyway. The first hour and ten minutes basically consists of a group of teenagers getting killed off by an unseen killer (the POV technique from Halloween is clearly ripped off). When there's finally one potential victim left, the killer's identity is revealed, as is her motivation.

While her motivation would seem fair in a serious minded movie, Friday the 13th is only interested in making Mrs. Voorhees (Betsy Palmer) batshit crazy. The twenty plus years since her son's death have driven her mad, and she acts as if his voice is driving her to kill anyone who sets foot on Crystal Lake. If the camp never opens again, it will keep another innocent child from drowning due to the careless and horny counselors. Even though she tragically lost a son, Mrs. Voorhees is never a character we can sympathize with, mostly because the movie portrays her as a campy villain. She screeches alot and talks in Jason's voice, both of which provoke laughter. It makes you wonder if this was the filmmaker's way of trying to keep the audience from taking her seriously.

Poor Jason is never seen sympathetically either, by the characters or the filmmakers. The only survivor, Alice (Adrienne King), dreams that he pops out of the water and turns over her canoe, automatically making her believe he's as loony as his mother when the bottom line is he was a defenseless child who unfairly lost his life. In return for his mother's actions, Jason is forced to spend eternity killing anyone who comes to Camp Crystal Lake. He is, at least in the beginning, seeking revenge for his mother's death, just as she was seeking revenge for his. But we'll get into that more as the series progresses.

Friday the 13th took a cue from Halloween in regards to its characters. Like the previous movie, this one involves a series of cardboard cutout teenagers who are not interesting and basically are alive just so they can get put on the chopping block. The movie plays a bit of a trick on us early on by killing its most likable character first. When I saw Annie (Robbi Morgan), who gets the obligatory warning of staying away from Crystal Lake, I was sure she'd be there until the end. But no, she turns out to be so happy and naive that it quickly gets the best of her. It's as if the movie is saying that anybody worth caring about needs to disappear as soon as possible.

Alice, the only one to make it out alive, is definitely drawn from the same cloth as Laurie Strode. She seems shy, is probably a virgin, and has a talent other than smoking pot and getting drunk. The movie establishes early that she will be the sole survivor by giving her and only her an actual admirable quality: she can draw. Another clue she will prevail comes during a game of strip Monopoly. When it is finally Alice's turn to remove her shirt, the game is ended due to bad weather. There are four or five other teenage characters, and we never even learn that much about them. The others, in fact, are practically indistinguishable. Interestingly, the picture opens in 1958, but the counselors shown look exactly like the ones in the present day. If the difference in the time period had not been noted, we never would have been able to tell them apart.

The violence in the picture is certainly more extreme than that of Halloween, but even still, it's not particularly shocking or scary. Most of the murders happen offscreen and we are only shown the aftermath (courtesy of Tom Savini). There is nothing overly brutal about what Mrs. Voorhees does; in other words, her goal is not to make the victims suffer. She just wants them to die as quickly as possible. For this reason, all the murders are inflicted to the neck or face of the victim, with Mrs. Voorhees getting it the worst (Alice lops her head off with a machete!). Part of the reason the murders are not effective is because the filmmakers are too eager to let us know we're looking at some fancy make up.

What hurts Friday the 13th the most is that its repetitive and boring. It's not appealing to look at (save a scene where Alice hides in a closet), the characters each make excuses to go off by themselves to get killed, and the finale overuses the old killer-that's-not-dead routine. It's strange how the movie is able to make us feel when its over as if nothing has really happened at all. And yet, it came out when the slasher genre was hitting its peak, so it went on to gross a then stellar $39 million domestically. It's not without areas of interest, as noted above, but the real sense of fascination will be to see how many of this movie's conventions and patterns follow through to future installments.

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Copyright, Hell and Beyond, 2008

So Far, So So: The Best of 2008

2008-07-08T18:48:00.000-07:00

I guess it's my fault. I set my hopes so high that, given the overwhelming strength of the 2007 movie year, I was certain 2008 was going to follow closely in its footsteps. But as we've seen in the past, enthusiasm for a new movie year is extremely wishful thinking. Last time I got pumped up was after 1999, and 2000, despite some strong entries, didn't even come close to measuring up. Unless 2008 fires out a mind blowing fall lineup, this could end up being like many of the years this decade: a handful of impressive movies mixed into with a whole lotta garbage.

I've seen 24 movies so far this year; that doesn't seem like a lot at all when I scan my list. This time last year, I was ahead of that, because Hollywood was somehow managing to release one noteworthy movie after another. Don't get me wrong, the summer season has been better than I expected, but the first part of the year was the worst in recent memory. So, to try to put myself in a more positive state of mind for the rest of the movie year, here are my top five choices for the Best of 2008 up to the end of June.

5) The Strangers dir. Bryan Bertino

First time director Bryan Bertino proves he means business with this lean and mean home invasion thriller. He thoughtfully establishes his two main characters (Liv Tyler and Scott Speedman) before putting them in peril - a wise decision so we can sympathize with them when they start making bad choices. What makes it easy to overlook the characters' obvious mistakes is Bertino's natural ability to build tension, thanks to some amazing framing and hair raising editing. He's one of those rare filmmakers who is able to get effective mileage out of a limited setting. Throw in a thoroughly chilling conclusion and what we're left with is a surprising new talent whose career should be worth following.

4) Wall-E dir. Andrew Stanton

Part melancholy love story and part social critique, Andrew Stanton's latest animated feature is a work of heartbreaking genius. It's a visual achievement of considerable grace and features a romance between two robots who cannot say anything to each other besides their names. Despite this, the movie is stunningly romantic, mostly because of the level of sadness these metal characters are able to express on their faces (it's all in the eyes). The first half is almost dialogue free, creating a true sense of isolation and loneliness. Stanton is a splendid storyteller, though, and is able to keep us engrossed until the action moves to space and the movie becomes, for lack of a better word, busier. While the second half does bite off more than it can chew and has a bit too much slapstick, Wall-E nevertheless shines since it is able to show that humans aren't the only ones who can convincingly fall in love. The level of sacrifice on display between Wall-E and his lover Eve is as significant as any I've seen in quite sometime.

3) Be Kind Rewind dir. Michel Gondry

Michel Gondry continues his streak of movies about art as personal expression with a funny and touching tale of two friends (Jack Black and Mos Def) who become neighborhood celebrities when they start making their own versions of the movies at a lower end video store (all the tapes accidentally get erased). The picture shows that it's OK to take something you love and make it your own, and it's at its best when this idea is used to try and bring a dying community together. Combining elements of science fiction, comedy and historical fiction, Be Kind Rewind is a tribute to people who care about the movies, mainly when it comes to sharing them with others.

2) Hancock dir. Peter Berg

SPOILER WARNING! I don't know how Peter Berg does it. On the surface, his projects look like big budget spectacles for high profile stars. Peek under the lid, though, and what you'll find is thoughtful and, dare I say it, profound. In Hancock, Berg casts Will Smith as a drunken superhero who busts shit up whenever he comes to the rescue. While this set up provides plenty of big laughs, there are other themes brewing in the pot. Berg is a big fan of throwing social commentary into his pictures, and in Hancock, the themes revolve around the idea of having the world accept a black savior. If that weren't fascinating enough, the movie has the balls to name him John Hancock and to make a white woman, whom he loves, his kryptonite. Some have called the last half far fetched, but I don't think that's the point. Instead, look at what it's saying about the way the United States views it's heroes and what would be considered an "acceptable" relationship. Will Smith is the best he's ever been and Jason Bateman gets some nice supporting work as a PR man convinced he can save Hancock's negative image. Color me shocked to say that Hancock is the best surprise I've had so far this year.

1) Shotgun Stories dir. Jeff Nichols

Shot around his hometown of Little Rock, Arkansas, writer/director Jeff Nichols' debut feature invokes the same intimate feel of the early works of David Gordon Green (who serves as a producer). His locations prove to be characters of their own, since they in large part help us understand the lives and actions of the people who inhabit them. Michael Shannon (Bug) is fantastic as the oldest of three brothers struggling to get by. Their world gets a little less sturdy when their father dies and it creates a feud between them and their half brothers - four boys their father cared about more than them. The movie is constantly at risk of turning into a stale melodrama but Nichols has a clear understanding of how to build character and keep what little violence is necessary off screen. Not to say he doesn't make some small mistakes, as most first time filmmakers do, but on the whole, he's crafted a lightly engrossing portrait of small town life, hauntingly scored by his older brother Ben (the front man of the Memphis band, Lucero) and vividly shot by cinematographer Adam Stone.

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Copyright, Hell and Beyond, 2008

What is It?: M. Night Shyamalan's The Happening

2008-06-25T19:17:00.000-07:00

I swore after Lady in the Water that I would never see another M. Night Shyamalan movie in the theater. At that point, he had burned me pretty severely twice, so I had already experienced the age old "fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice, shame on me" and was not prepared to look like a sucker yet again. But then a strange thing happened. As the release date of his latest, The Happening, got closer, my interest in it grew. In the back of my mind, I kept reminding myself that I was not going to let Shyamalan swindle me out of more hard earned money, but I'll be damned if the movie didn't look intriguing.

So, I had a big dilemma. I solved it briefly by watching a four minute clip online that Shyamalan introduced in his typical, self masturbatory fashion. True, it was nothing special, but it was during the intro that I found out the picture was going to be "R" rated and only 90 minutes long. For some reason, The Happening was starting to sound better and better. I knew very little in regards to what it was actually about, and I didn't care. All I knew is that maybe, just maybe, Shyamalan finally had his head screwed back on straight. God, I was hoping, since I still had to remind myself that the same man who made the tepid Lady in the Water also made the sublime Unbreakable.

If The Happening does deliver on two promises, it's that the movie is "R" rated and only 90 minutes long. Other than that, it's rather indescribable. Many are likely to walk out of it and feel cheated once again, which is how I was expecting to feel, and yet for some strange reason I didn't. Not completely at least. Oh, don't get me wrong. The picture is complete and utter bullshit, but at least it's fascinating bullshit. The Happening is Shyamalan unhinged, a movie made by a man so desperate to please an audience he will quite literally try anything. If you dare to see this movie, you'll immediately understand what I mean.

I was somewhat stunned by it. In the past, Shyamalan has at the very least proved himself to be a skilled technical filmmaker, and in the beginning he showed a knack for writing well thought characters. Both of those elements are strangely absent here. First off, the direction looks really sloppy, as if the shot list was made five minutes before shooting started. There are way too many close ups and sadly, none of them achieve any kind of dramatic effect. And the dialogue is, for the most part, atrocious. Shyamalan does manage to pull off a hand full of entertaining one liners, but overall, this is direct-to-video type writing. How fast did he churn the script out?

Look at The Sixth Sense, Unbreakable, and Signs and there's a sense that this director knows how to work with actors. From watching The Happening, you'd think he's scared of being around people. Every performance in this movie is hugely overstated, making the viewer constantly wonder what the actor's motivation was when attempting to get in character. To be fair, the material they're working with is utterly ridiculous, so chances are they had no idea what the hell they were supposed to me doing. Mark Wahlberg is definitely hit and miss, but he's never looked as awkward and confused as he does here. Ditto the almost always charming Zooey Deschanel. The only actors to get good mileage are the ones playing characters who seem to be from another planet.

I don't want to give away what The Happening is actually about, because in its own little way, that is the movie's sole pleasure. The problem, though, is that the plot is played straight. There's a B grade picture in the same spirit as The Fog just waiting to burst out of the stomach of this thing, but instead of taking that route, Shyamalan asks us to accept the movie at face value. It's odd too, given that half the movie is so somber and the other half is so truly bizarre it's borderline camp. I kept waiting for it to finally throw caution to the wind and let the audience know it was in on the joke, but it never did.

What I'm left with in the end is a movie experience I can't shake off. There's no doubt it's pretty awful, but I don't feel right labeling it that way. I have to give Shyamalan props for making a movie this loony and asking me to find the plausibility in it. For the first time in his career, the once promising filmmaker has gone for broke by making a movie that basically gives the human race the finger, and does so with scenes of violence that go from mildly effective to unintentionally hilarious (nothing beats the lawn mower). I laughed out loud a lot, and I certain that was not his intention. After the climax, I wondered if maybe the whole thing was a big joke. The final two scenes proved I was wrong.

I now find myself having to decide where I stand with M. Night Shyamalan. Yeah, I kind of felt fooled once again, but I also am morbidly interested to see what he may do next. The Happening proves he has passed the point of no return and has become a filmmaker who plays by his own rules. I have to admire that; The Happening might be a failure, but it's a more memorable failure than most. And it's not boring. So many movies that come out these days consist of the same old predictable shit, so it's somewhat refreshing to watch a movie that constantly has you guessing. Damn you, Shyamalan. I said I was through with you, and then you had to go and make a movie so inexplicably bad it's made me anticipate your future projects. There's an endorsement I never expected to give.

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Copyright, Hell and Beyond, 2008

Brief Hiatus

2008-05-20T09:14:00.000-07:00

It has embarrassingly been almost a month since the last post, but since I'm about to change jobs and I'm on the third draft of my first script, it's set me back in regards to reviews. I have tried to crank a few out, only to find myself horribly unhappy with the end result. However, my brief vacation is going to end with the release if Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull. My anticipation is high, so I will use that as an excuse to jump back in. Look for the review this weekend.

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Biting Without Teeth: Jon Hurwitz and Hayden Schlossberg's Harold & Kumar Escape from Guantanamo Bay

2008-04-28T15:59:00.000-07:00

The scary thing about sequels is that, no matter the genre, they are all in jeopardy of falling into the same trap. When the first movie is a success, the desire to please is overwhelming, so the writers try to concoct ideas they feel will be even bigger and more bombastic than they were before. It's a hard thing to pull off, since audience members are so eager to be impressed in ways they weren't the first time out. To not deliver what you promise is a good way, in some respects, to discredit the original product. Depending on how bad the sequel is, its predecessor can look like a stroke of luck.

Sure, lots of great movies have worthy and sometimes even better sequels, but for comedy, it seems to be the rarest or rarities. It is the hardest genre to pull off well, after all, due to the fact that trying to determine what will make people laugh is a genuine risk. If it hits, more power to you but if it doesn't, start searching for a new job. Sadly though, the standards for what's funny have sank to an incredible low. Real comedy, based on situations and characters, has been replaced by people smoking weed and performing stupid tricks. I'm not saying I have an issue with this; I'm just saying that it gets old when the characters are the same from one movie to the next. It's the lack of variety that makes these "stoner comedies" feel so desperate to me.

I had a lot of anxiety when I went to see Harold & Kumar Go to White Castle. First off, it's a stoner comedy and secondly, it stars two guys who, up until then, had been reduced to cheap sketch roles. Color me amazed that not only were they both very appealing, the movie didn't reduce them to the level of brain dead idiocy. Even more so, they're both quite intelligent and you can tell they think before they speak. In addition to being likable, Harold & Kumar (gasp!) has something to say, and it doesn't shove it down our collective throats. The movie is a very sharp (almost deceptively so) critique on racial hypocrisy; it's the struggles of two guys, one Indian and the other Asian, who are forced to deal with blind ignorance.

The movie was vulgar too, but it knew there was a line. Most of the tasteless stuff was spoken, not seen. Pity that so many filmmakers have forgotten that often, the idea of something is funnier than having it displaying right before your eyes. So, I was thrilled with the movie, bummed out when it tanked, and then thrilled again when home video rescued it and a sequel was announced. Both stars had signed to come back, a positive sign, plus the original writers were also returning, yet another and equally as crucial positive sign. I, for one, could not wait to see what would happen to Harold and Kumar next.

Movie two is called Harold & Kumar Escape from Guantanamo Bay, and it picks up right where the first one ended. Harold (John Cho) is the brainiac with a respectable finance job, and Kumar (Kal Penn) is a child prodigy destined for a great medical career. Despite Harold's high aspirations, Kumar would rather smoke dope than go to his med school interviews, which always lands them in a situation they would rather not be in. In other words, their planned trip to Amsterdam gets canceled on the plane thanks to Kumar, and what follows is a series of misadventures similar to the ones experienced in the first movie. Only dirtier.

Those last words are one of the biggest problems with Harold & Kumar 2. Writers Jon Hurwitz and Hayden Schlossberg (making their directorial debut) have ditched the sly smarts of their first project and replaced it with a lot of visually gross humor, ranging from flying cum to heavily bearded genitals. About ten minutes in, I was stunned and a little sad that the one element the first movie left out was now being embraced as if it had always been there. Aside from that, the reason for the journey this time doesn't have the same ring to it. The last outing was for those tasty little burgers. Picture two is all about impressing a woman. Where's the originality in that?

The movie tries to recapture the main theme again, which is the fact that the average white American is ignorant to anyone who doesn't share their skin color. That would be all well and dandy if the filmmakers actually had something new or funny to say but instead, they beat a dead horse. It's the equivalent of satire trying to bite without teeth, most of the time meaning the attempts at humor are embarrassing. The largest example of this comes in the form of Ron Fox (Rob Corddry), a government agent convinced that Harold and Kumar are terrorists (South Korea and Al Qaeda working together) and won't listen to anyone's reasoning as to why they're not. The character is not funny because he's painfully aggressive, making the execution more offensive than anything else. Examine the scene where he taunts a black Orthodontist to best understand what I mean.

The situations Harold and Kumar stumble into on this journey, which I will not reveal here, lack the bizarre and nightmarish quality they had the first time (Okay, I'll spoil one. Do we really need another scene involving a minority and a KKK rally?). Each disaster is obvious and feels like it could have come from any stoner comedy; I guess I just expect more from a Harold & Kumar movie than say, Half Baked. Their quest for the American Dream has gone from something worth rooting for to a pale imitation of the wackiness found in a Cheech and Chong movie. Not to say there isn't anything to laugh at. Cho and Penn once again have dynamite chemistry, and a handful of their one liners do resonate, but those graces alone can only carry a movie so far in the long run.

Needless to say, it wouldn't be a Harold & Kumar movie without the presence of Neil Patrick Harris, who enters the picture midway and runs away with it for about twenty minutes. He's horny, he's high, and he's hallucinating, which is helpful since he's able to distract from just how wrong most everything else feels. It really was, for me, that painful to watch more often than not. I came out of it hoping that maybe the theatrical success of this chapter will lead to another, because I'd hate to give up completely on two characters as engaging as Harold and Kumar.

Which leads me to how the movie really loses its sharp touch. SPOILER Harold and Kumar accidentally end up in the Texas home of George W. Bush, who has already been spoofed in many a movie. Even though I was disappointed up until then, I had a small glimmer of hope that maybe the filmmakers had found a creative way for our heroes to fuck with the president. Instead, W. smokes weed with them, mispronounces words, and makes a statement about loving your country even if you don't love your government. Wow. Throw that in with a lame romantic subplot for Kumar (complete with his beloved ex about to marry a Republican jerk, although I must confess I smiled at Kumar's dorky poem) and all we're left with is the first hugely anticipated misfire of the year. Better luck next time, boys.

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Copyright, Hell and Beyond, 2008

Putting Hedren Through Hell: Alfred Hitchcock's The Birds

2008-04-28T08:26:00.000-07:00

Before her tortured performance in Marnie, former model Tippi Hedren got put through the ringer in a different sort of way in The Birds. This was Alfred Hitchcock's post Psycho project, and while it might seem like a strange choice, there's no question it was an appropriate one. The picture has come under fire quite a bit for its stale lead performances and supposedly cheesy moments, but I think the criticizers are missing the point. As usual, there's something much larger at work here. The result may not be one of Hitch's best movies, and yet that certainly does not keep it from being one of his most fascinating.

If Psycho probed into Hitch's obsession with women as sexual objects and creatures to be feared, The Birds carries this idea forward, minus the focus on voyeurism. Instead, he takes birds, which are relatively harmless to the human eye, and turns them into dangerous predators that attack without reason. It sounds cheesy when you hear it described, and it would be if Hitch's motive for picking birds didn't have something deeper behind it. You see, "birds" was once a term used when referring to women, so should it come as any surprise that their primary target in the picture are the children? This shares with Psycho the theory that mothers are only capable of causing harm to their offspring, whether it be mental or physical (in the case of The Birds, it's both).

It goes without question that a woman is to blame for the the birds' strange behavior. Melanie Daniels (Tippi Hedren) is the spoiled daughter of a wealthy newspaper tycoon, her name known throughout San Francisco due to how frequently it shows up in the tabloids (she notoriously jumped into a public fountain naked). While ordering some birds at the pet shop, she's played for a fool by Mitch Brenner (Rod Taylor), an attorney who has seen her in court as a result of some of her public mischief. Pissed off that he got the best of her, Melanie follows Mitch to his weekend getaway in Bodega Bay, and ends up stranded there when the birds begin their reign of terror.

Mitch's family situation is a classic Hitchcockian scenario. He lives with his pre-teen sister (Veronica Cartwright) and mother (a creepy Jessica Tandy), the latter a great reminder of why Norman Bates went insane. Every woman who comes into Mitch's life poses an immediate threat to her; despite the fact he's well into his 30s, his mother will not let him go. Throughout the picture, she's in constant paranoia that he'll abandon her. There's an unsettling scene where she explains to Melanie that she really wants to like her, but is obviously conflicted in doing so because of the anticipation of being replaced. It's enough to make one wonder if, had the The Birds been made first, Mitch could have been Norman Bates and Psycho could have served as an unofficial sequel.

The other major female character in the movie is Annie Hayworth (Suzanne Pleshette), a former flame of Mitch's who stayed in Bodega Bay just to be close to him. Upon Melanie's arrival, the jealousy is portrayed without subtlety. Annie exists for no other reason than to be an object of ridicule, as most of her scenes consist of her looking enviously at Melanie or longingly at Mitch. SPOILER It turns out she's no match for the birds either; they take her out while she's trying to protect Mitch's sister. Like most women in Hitchcock's pictures, she's ultimately disposable.

All the women are hysterical in The Birds. Melanie is full of outbursts, most of them directed at Mitch, who does nothing more than let her know what an irresponsible child she is. There's an over-the-top scene where a frightened mother freaks out on Melanie, pointing the finger at her in accusation since the birds didn't begin their rampage until she arrived. And then there's the "birds" themselves. Aside from being constant pests, they're voices are not unlike the non-stop screeching heard from the female characters.

Given what Hitch had to work with, I found the bird attacks to be rather terrifying due to their relentlessness. This is best displayed when the kids flee from the schoolhouse, making them accessible victims with no method of self defense. Equally as great is the climax as the birds try to bust into Mitch's house. What makes this sequence stand out is the scene where Melanie follows a noise upstairs, only to find that the birds have found a way in. Once in the room with them (it's a bedroom), she can't get out because every attempt to open the door is foiled by another beak forcing its way onto her body (it's probably the most disturbing rape imagery in a Hitchcock movie). Less memorable is the restaurant attack, thanks to a goofy explosion and a drunk's constant warnings about the birds signaling the end of the world.

Shortcomings aside, The Birds remains as compulsively watchable as anything else Hitch made during his golden years. By this point, his punishment of women was reaching an extreme that made me wonder how many other ways he'd find to do it in future decades. With this in mind, I came to the realization that The Birds is mirrored heavily by William Friedkin's The Exorcist. After making the connection, it's intriguing to speculate on how Hitchcock reacted to it. Was it a picture he could identify with, or was it too gruesome? You could speculate that in the early 1960s, the Master of Suspense was on his way to metamorphosing into a full blown horror director. Sadly, it's a side of his career that never got developed to its fullest potential.

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Copyright, Hell and Beyond, 2008

Was It Worth the Wait?

2008-04-22T08:31:00.001-07:00

I watched a fair amount of Bruce Lee movies during my early teenage years, but I consider Jackie Chan to be the reason I began to love martial arts movies. Like so many other Westerners, my introduction to him was Rumble in the Bronx, a movie I immediately became obsessed with and led me to seek out every Jackie Chan title available in the states. The man who ran the store where I bought my videos eventually ran out of Chan movies to recommend and suggested I explore some other fighting styles. He ending up placing Fist of Legend in my hands, thus beginning my fascination with Jet Li.

It was inevitable, I guess, that one day Chan and Li would face off, although I kind of wondered how much fun it would be since they're styles are so different. Chan, who has played it straight on occasion, is known for bringing a hint of physical comedy to his movies while Li is always deathly serious (I can't recall having seen him smile more than a few times). After many years and many rumors, the two masters finally decided to join forces on screen, and just the confirmation of this was enough to stir excitement into my nostalgic eighteen-year-old heart. Despite my anticipation, a hint of disappointment arose when I learned that it was not going to be helmed by a Chinese director.

Don't get me wrong, I'm certainly not saying there aren't American directors capable of pulling Chan and Li's first onscreen collaboration off with a bang. My concern comes from their histories in American movies; so far, they've both been mishandled (Li's only noteworthy non-Chinese release is Unleashed, which is British) and their English still is often hard to understand. Instead of bringing in a director known for shooting effective action sequences (I have a hard time believing Ronny Yu and Tsui Hark weren't available), the studio inexplicably hired Rob Minkoff, whose previous efforts include The Haunted Mansion, Stuart Little, and The Lion King. With a resume like that, Minkoff would not be my first choice, mostly because I'd be afraid of the movie being too cartoonish.

If anything was going to save this project, titled The Forbidden Kingdom, from complete disaster, it would be the inclusion of fight choreographer Woo-Ping Yuen. In his hands, at least Chan and Li would be utilized in the right way, particularly when they finally have a go at each other. It seems like the filmmakers were banking on this fight scene alone to sell the movie. Look at the story, the ridiculous CGI, and the bullshit philosophy and it's easy to realize that. While it's true Chan and Li's imports didn't have profound screenplays, at least they were sturdy enough to hang the fight scenes on.

My goal here is not to go too much into the movie itself, because it's just not worth the time. For the first half, at least it looks like Minkoff has a decent hold on the reigns, but after Chan and Li throw down, the whole thing collapses under itself. The movie becomes a truly boring affair, with horrid dialogue, a predictable and lazy Karate Kid plot device, and fight scenes that are shot too close up to care. I was with the movie for a good forty-five minutes, so it was a real shame when it finally became what I'd feared from the beginning.

The burning question is this: if the movie itself fails to live up as a whole, how is the first onscreen fight between Jackie Chan and Jet Li? To my surprise, it was quite wonderful. The stars let their limbs fly almost nonstop for roughly five minutes, causing the joy of seeing these two legends working their magic so blissful it feels like it lasts a welcome eternity. Wisely, Woo-Ping doesn't turn their styles against each other; call it a welcome compromise. The result is the best time I've had at the movies in quite a while - even if it only lasts a few moments.

If anything aside from the fight scene save The Forbidden Kingdom from being completely awful, it's the fact that Chan and Li look like they're having a blast. Chan gets to do a subtle recreation of his old Drunken Master routine, while Li goes against type by actually playing a mischievous character who laughs. Even though I was pleased with this, I was thrilled that they come off as if they enjoy working together, which was certainly a concern I had going in. Would one ego try to push the other one out of the way? Given their natural chemistry, I do hope they decide to make other movies together (especially before Chan, who is 54, decides to retire). Otherwise, Chan will never get his revenge on Li, who tries to humor him about summoning the rain by peeing on his head. Who's the master now?

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Copyright, Hell and Beyond, 2008

Sir Psycho Sexy: Alfred Hitchcock's Marnie

2008-04-17T08:59:00.000-07:00

After completing The Birds, Alfred Hitchcock turned his focus on Winston Graham's novel, MARNIE, and it's easy to see why the Master of Suspense was so intrigued by it. The main character is a mentally deranged woman who becomes the center of fascination for a good looking, wealthy control freak. In some regards, it sounded like quintessential Hitchcock before the screenplay was churned out; if anything set it apart from what audiences expected out of him, it was the lack of traditional thriller elements.

Bringing Marnie to the screen turned out to be a huge headache for Hitchcock. The screenplay went through a number of writers, the first of which was Psycho scribe Joseph Stefano. Hitchcock finally turned to playwright Jay Presson Allen, which was interesting considering the reason he kept firing the previous screenwriters. The novel contains an intense rape scene that felt unadaptable, since the concern was that once the male lead was finished, the audience would not like him anymore. This didn't seem to bother Hitch, so every time one of the writers refused to add it to their script, he replaced them. All the early drafts were written by men; it wasn't until he hired Allen, a woman, that he got what he desired.

Hitchcock believed the scene was crucial to the story, and was convinced that the right actor could keep the audience hooked no matter what he did. But casting a leading man was not the difficult part; that hinged on the leading lady. Hitchcock was eager to work with Grace Kelly again and at first, it looked as if she was going to play Marnie. But Kelly backed out at the last minute, a decision that Hitch apparently never got over. Having just worked with her on The Birds, he approached Tippi Hedren and she agreed. Since he had just put her through hell in one movie, why not go ahead and do it again?

I never would have suspected Hitchcock to be the James Bond type, but that's what drew him to Sean Connery. It turned out to be a perfect match. The amount of depth required to play a British spy is fairly limited, so it was to Hitch's credit that he was able to take Connery's suave onscreen appeal and turn it into something humane. The character strikes an odd balance between kindness and creepiness, making it hard for the audience to decide if we should sympathize with Connery or not.

I've often heard that Marnie functions as a companion piece of sorts to The Birds, and while I understand the comparison (mostly in context to what the main character goes through), I see the picture going alongside Vertigo. As we know, Hitchcock obsessed over his leading ladies; how they looked onscreen meant everything. For this reason, Vertigo could be viewed as Hitchcock's ultimate fantasy, since it was about a man more or less sculpting a woman into his ideal vision of what she should be. Like Vertigo, Marnie is a movie about control, specifically a man's control. In both cases, these men are portrayed as sexual predators.

But even if the men in Hitchcock's movies are predatory and domineering, they are still not the bad guys. Any action they have to take is the result of a situation the women have put them into; look at most of Hitch's thrillers and you'll find the root of the trouble leads to a female. Hitchcock always found a way to make it clear that the women are guilty; time after time, the plot involved an innocent "man" wrongly accused. But despite the fact the women created disaster upon disaster in Hitchcock's world, he also continued to show how fascinated the men were by them. I think this was a genuine reflection of Hitchcock's own deep fear and confusion with women. Why else would you spend your whole career making them indescribably nuts?

Marnie is a liar and a thief with a trepidation of men and a closet full of nervous ticks. Early in the movie when she goes to visit her mother (Louise Latham), there's a strong sense that Marnie's issues are family related. Her psychological deficiencies keep her on the move, staying in one place long enough to rob the safe where she's working. Since she skips town after each job, the thought of getting caught never crossed her mind. Enter Mark Rutland (Connery), born into money and running a huge corporation. When Marnie comes to work for him, he's immediately mesmerized by her looks and demeanor. It isn't until he tracks her down after she's emptied the safe that he realizes just how unstable she is.

Marnie becomes somewhat of an experiment for Mark. He is taken aback by her strange behavioral patterns, and seems convinced he might be able to fix them. After assuring her he won't turn her over to the cops, Mark forces Marnie to marry him even though she is terrified of his touch. It's hard to figure out at first if Mark's intentions are thoughtful. This is most evident in the controversial scene on their honeymoon when he (emotionally) rapes her. Every time Mark is forceful with Marnie, we might as well hear Hitchcock's voice coming out of his mouth.

In the novel, Marnie gets caught in a love triangle between two men. In the movie, it's no surprise that one of the men has been replaced by a woman, Mark's sister-in-law, Lil (a lovely Diane Baker). Her jealousy of Marnie is evident from the beginning, and once she finds out Marnie's secrets, tries to play an active part in pushing Mark away from her. To Hitchcock, this could be perceived as a delightful game: one woman is infatuated with the man, who is infatuated with the other woman.

As expected, Marnie is technically wonderful. Hitchcock stages each scene impeccably, so it's no surprise that he was stickler when it came to storyboarding. The standout is the opening, which follows Marnie from behind as she walks down the center of a train station platform. In classic Hitchcock fashion, her hair is the first of three different colors; it goes from black (mysterious) to blond (flirtatious) to brown (inconspicuous). This is the movie's first major echo of Vertigo. Other standouts include Marnie ripping off Mark's company safe and a horseback riding accident.

Marnie is wholly unpleasant and retching, but also endlessly absorbing and frightening. It represents Hitchcock at his best (and most naked), once again driving out of his lead actress a performance of raw intensity. Aside from Vertigo, I can't remember another picture where the Master bared his soul this openly. SPOILER ALERT This is most evident during the picture's conclusion, when we finally learn the reason for all of Marnie's mental trauma. As a child, her mother was a prostitute who would wake Marnie up in the middle of the night so she and her client could use the bed. One night, a visiting sailor innocently tries to comfort Marnie from a thunderstorm and her mother automatically takes it as a sexual advance. A scuffle ensues, ending with Marnie killing the sailor. The bottom line is that the off balance daughter is a direct product of her off balance mother.

You have to see Marnie to believe it, and even then, you still might not. When it was released, the feedback was less then encouraging, but over forty years later, it remains one of Hitchcock's most under appreciated movies. Even though it doesn't play like his most popular thrillers, it still manages to be chilling for all the right reasons. Film critic Walter Chaw said he didn't understand Hitchcock until he saw Marnie. After revisiting it for the first time in about seventeen years, I understand exactly what he means. With Marnie, Hitchcock proves that he was more than just the Master of Suspense; he also had quite a grasp on human despair.

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Copyright, Hell and Beyond, 2008

Bordering on Boredom: Zev Berman's Borderland

2008-04-15T09:15:00.000-07:00

Despite the claim that it's "based on true events," Zev Berman's Borderland plays like a low rent cross between Hostel and Wolf Creek, the difference being it lacks the former's outrageous gore and the latter's attention to character. This is not to say the movie isn't gory, but considering it wants the audience to take it seriously, the kill scenes feel borderline campy. I'm frankly surprised Borderland earned so much enthusiasm when it premiered in last year's After Dark Horrorfest. If this is what passes for a compelling story then the future of horror movies is bleaker than I thought.

The picture is set in a small Mexican town where, in the late 1980s, a local cult kidnapped and killed their countrymen as sacrifices to their god. The DVD has an interview with a Texas sheriff who investigated the disappearance of an American citizen who was one of the cult's victims, and his stories are both chilling and fascinating. However, instead of focusing on the issues pressed against a cop working outside of his jurisdiction, which could have been interesting, Berman takes the easy way out by setting his sights on three American college kids who cross the border looking for a good time and end up finding themselves in over their heads.

I guess the filmmakers felt like they had to cover familiar territory in order to attract a larger audience. Why else would they ditch a reasonably compelling piece of recent Mexican history for standard horror fare? The horrifying aspects of the murders should be what the movie is about, but instead they feel more like a backdrop for a lame revenge thriller. Borderland opens with two cops uncovering a house filled with weird ritual props, only to be taken hostage. One of them is tortured and killed and the other (Damian Alcazar) is let go so he can tell the police who mutilated his partner. Cut forward a year and the disgruntled cop is still seeking vengeance on the wackos but naturally, no one will take him seriously.

A stroke of good luck appears once three recent high school graduates hit town. Of course, before going to Mexico, there's the obligatory scene where they get drunk on the beach and talk about their futures, which is always a clear indication that they're not going to have one. Once across the border, they hit up the strip clubs and whore houses trying to get the virginal preacher's son (Rider Strong) laid. But he has morals, another reason he won't live, and sure enough, he's kidnapped by the cult and taken away to be cut up on the altar. The rest of the movie consists of his friends trying to find him, leading to several ridiculous altercations (translation: trash talking) between one of the cocky young Americans and the kidnappers. Not the best idea.

Like clockwork, the cop shows up to help them get their friend back, even though he's had a year to take the cult down himself. The fact he's failed to take action is no surprise, as nothing in Borderland makes any logical sense. The movie's biggest puzzle involves Valeria (the gorgeous Martha Higareda), a bartender who takes a liking to one of the boys. You'd think that after she sees what kind of trouble he and his friends are wrapped up in, she'd hot tail it away from them. Since the movie needs a pretty face around, she stays, even after her best friend is murdered by the cult (!). If that's not dedication, especially to someone she has barely known a day, than I don't know what is.

The bizarre casting award goes to Sean Astin, who inexplicably pops up to guard the cult's American prisoner. Why they chose this redneck outsider is beyond me, unless it was for his outspoken bloodlust (Astin talks in detail about his love for killin'!). If all the movie's dialogue is predictable and stupid, Astin's takes the cake, since he is given the sarcastic one liners. Aside from trying to be funny, the only other reason the character exists is to have another enemy to take down during the Climactic Showdown. This is the section of the movie where the heroes, who are held up in a house, must fend off their attackers from all directions.

It may be hard to fathom that the greatest offense committed by Borderland isn't that it's boring or by the numbers (I can't recall a single surprising moment). Nope, what truly sets this one below other bad movies in the genre is the idea that we're supposed to take it seriously. Even though this was the case, I kept trying to convince myself otherwise, particularly during the movie's hilarious key sacrifice scene, which tries to milk sympathy and terror out of showing both the victim and the slayer pray to their respective gods.

Aside from the occasional unintentional laughs, I couldn't find a single redeemable quality about Borderland. The movie's visual style is bland, as is its score, as are its performances. And the gore, which should be the highlight of a movie like this (especially if everything else sucks), is handled in a sorely unimaginative fashion. Given the acts themselves are pretty unnerving, the pure spectacle alone should be shocking but instead, it's a notch above, say, a community theater production. I wonder how the residents of Mexico feel about their country's participation in this picture, considering the viewpoint seems to be that Mexicans kill because they're all religious nutcases (and all the women are hookers or sluts, mostly when it comes to pleasing American men). That theory alone is no question the scariest element Borderland has to offer.

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Copyright, Hell and Beyond, 2008

The Shaky Transition from Page to Screen: Carter Smith's The Ruins

2008-04-06T15:31:00.000-07:00

Adapting a horror novel to the screen is a task of great difficulty; if you don't believe me, just look at most of the movie versions of Stephen King's works. Horror novels benefit from having an astronomical amount of space to build suspense and develop character, both of which are generally lost when translated into screenplay form. There's not enough time to give the best elements of the book their due, so what you're usually left with is a lot of horrifying sights and little else. More often than not, the movies suffer most when they're taken from page to screen by the original author, since they can't fairly decide what should stay and what should go.

It's fitting that Stephen King went apeshit over Scott Smith's sophomore novel, THE RUINS, for like a lot of King's undertakings, it contains a supernatural element terrorizing a small group of desperate people. Given the premise, it's a surprisingly intense and rewarding read, even if it does require a good bit of patience. You could almost say Smith builds anticipation too slowly, but when it finally reveals the main attraction, it was worth the wait. The greatest fear I had for the movie version, aside from the fact it involves vacationing teenagers, is that the book's primary threat could easily come off as cheesy and downright laughable.

Smith is responsible for the screenplay for The Ruins, and while I could label it with having the Stephen King Syndrome, I'm not entirely sure that was the case. Hollywood studios think they know what will sell, so there's a distinct possibility Smith handed in a juicy draft of the script and they tossed it because it didn't focus enough on "the scary parts." I'd be curious to hear how he feels about the finished product; there's a good deal of his original source still intact, but the spectacular mounting dread that was present before has been thrown out and replaced by a need to deliver spectacle and nothing else.

It was a bit disconcerting, since the movie could have feasibly stretched its first half out to make room for the characters' steady decline from hopeful to helpless. They were not heavily developed in the novel, but Smith outlined their personalities enough so we could understand and identify with each person's moments of despair. True, the novel was gruesome, but it was also pretty thick with psychological breakdowns. I sometimes had to wonder if exhaustion and fear weren't responsible for a great deal of the events the movie makes literal.

The movie touches on many of the elements mentioned above, although they become afterthoughts more or less right after they're introduced. The pacing by director Carter Smith (no relation to Scott) is so swift I almost didn't notice the lack of character development until it was over. In a way, the movie's greatest weakness also turns out to be its greatest strength, meaning that if you're going to skimp out on giving us a reason to give a crap about the people in peril, be sure to throw them into it right away.

For the uninformed, the story revolves around two couples who go on a vacation to Mexico shortly before graduating from college. They accept an offer to seek out some Mayan ruins that aren't in any of the tour guides, only to discover upon their arrival that the frightened locals won't allow them to leave. If that wasn't enough, there's something strange going on with the plant life. The scenario of being restrained by others is terrifying enough, and the movie gets some tense mileage out of it. The kids quickly start to brainstorm ways to free themselves of the situation, with results that are less than helpful.

Jeff (Jonathan Tucker) tries to deem himself the leader of the group, hastily offering survival tips that will keep them alive until (hopefully) they are rescued. As things get worse, so do his decisions, since something inhabiting the ruins has powers beyond his control. Sadly, the hazards aside from the worst one are all but forgotten. It's abundantly clear that The Ruins champions piling its crisis situations on top of each other instead of allowing things to unravel slowly. This doesn't turn out to be a completely bad move, due to the fact that each catastrophe is handled in a brutally efficient and often skin crawling manner.

The gore effects on display here are some of the more impressive I have seen in quite some time. I was leery whether or not some of the book's nastier set pieces would make it to the screen, and yet there they are, in glorious detail. If the director Smith excels here, he also does a splendid job establishing an atmosphere of inescapable danger, not just on the ruins but also inside a mine shaft. Before seeing the movie, I was concerned that the CGI used to create the ruins' killer would be too fake to take at face value. Aside from a single moment, I found the visuals to be pretty seamless and undeniably eerie.

At barely ninety minutes, The Ruins hardly feels like it was on for an hour. I'll be curious to see if a Director's Cut surfaces later, as there's a part of me that presumes the writer Smith crafted a screenplay that focused just as much on the inner demons as it did on the outer. That would be quite a movie. Even though I was hoping Smith would be able to bring his novel to the screen with a little more authenticity (even some of its best gross out moments are nowhere to be found and a new ending is a letdown), it's damn near impossible for me to deny the picture's visceral impact. If it's a well oiled machine you're seeking, then you could do a whole lot worse than The Ruins.

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Copyright, Hell and Beyond, 2008

"They're Rat People...Fuckin' Rat People!": Jim Mickle's Mulberry Street

2008-04-06T13:08:00.000-07:00

If the market is overcrowded with horror movies, there's no doubt most of them contain zombies. What is it that fascinates current filmmakers so much when it comes to zombies? Could be the fact they're pretty easy movies to make, since all you really need are a bunch of extras covered in make up, walking around and moaning until they stumble upon someone who doesn't look like them. It's a safe assumption that nine out of ten zombie movies made in a given year are god awful, mainly because they don't bring anything new to the table. There are only so many ways a zombie can attack, and there's only so much social commentary to be explored.

Every once in a while, however, there's a filmmaker who actually puts some thought into it and is able to find a way to thrill us with their movie by putting focus on something other than the zombies. Case and point is Jim Mickle's Mulberry Street, a movie I might have hesitated to watch due to its inclusion in the 2007 After Dark Horrorfest. Before getting picked up, it received some positive feedback on the festival circuit and eventually caught the attention of Lionsgate Films, who felt it would be a good addition to their lineup. Even if their marketing is less than savvy, it's not a bad way for a $60,000 movie to get some exposure.

There have been a number of thoroughly entertaining movies that were made for no money; the key is to know how to effectively spend your dollars, but even more than that, it's crucial to have a good screenplay. The writing is the first element that stood out to me in Mulberry Street. I was keeping track, and was amazed to discover the big outbreak didn't occur until around the forty minute mark. In most horror pictures, the majority of us would be colossally bored by then, but this movie isn't just wasting time. Mickle and his co-writer, (and co-star) Nick Damici actually use the first half to (gasp!) introduce and develop their characters.

I was stunned. I began to scan my memory and had difficulty remembering when I had last seen a horror movie that wanted me to get to know the characters (Wolf Creek maybe). Horror movies these days do just enough to set the inhabitants up for the slaughter, or they try to make them so unlikable that we can't wait to see them die. In Mulberry Street, I was surprised to find myself interested in each person introduced, so much so that when the shit hit the fan, I was concerned. Part of the appeal might have been the welcome fact that there's only one teenager in the movie; most everyone else is at the middle or near the end of their lives.

A majority of the movie's events take place in a nasty, crumbling New York apartment building. It is quickly established that many of the residents have been there a majority of their lives, and as the movie opens, we learn they are on the verge of being evicted to make way for new and improved housing. While this is normally a tired set up, the movie does not use it as a gimmick. In fact, all we ever see of the evil developer is his picture on a poster. Instead, the threat of these people losing their homes is interwoven with the bigger threat of a strange infection that begins to take over their neighborhood.

In a recent interview with Mickle and Damici, they described Mulberry Street as a "neighborhood" movie (most of the characters are based on people the filmmakers have lived around). Their ultimate goal with the setting and the characters was to install a sense of community, showing that these people have known each other for years and because of that, they can depend on each other. Mickle acquaints us with this idea not through dialogue, but by showing us around the apartments. There are subtle clues everywhere that provide a perception of how long the residents have been there, and in certain cases, the history they have with one another.

Mickle and cinematographer Ryan Samul shoot the apartment building as a claustrophobic's worst nightmare. The hallways, staircases, and the units themselves are bland, dark, and uncomfortably small, maybe not unlike being stuck inside a rat hole. Despite the lack of light in the place, we can constantly tell what is happening. Even so, Mickle's main method for creating suspense isn't by showing us the creatures and the damage they do; it's through the noises coming from right outside the door and inside the walls. Just because the door's locked doesn't mean the flesh hungry predators won't find a way to get inside.

The city streets turn out to be equally as menacing as the building, which is shown largely when key character Clutch's (Damici) daughter, Casey (Kim Blair), returns from Iraq and notices that the safe place she hoped to re-adapt to is just as bad if not worse than where she was. Since the subway has been shutdown due to the outbreak, she's forced to make the journey home on foot. Mickle excels at giving tranquil settings, such as a playground, an ominous and unsettling aura. It would have been easy to show the streets full of panic but instead, Casey finds them deceptively deserted.

I have grown weary of the whole government-experiment-gone-wrong approach to zombie movies, and while Mulberry Street's infection through rat bite idea may not seem much better, it works wonders since Mickle never has to waste time giving long, drawn out explanations. The opportunity is there to showcase fancy make up effects of people turning into overgrown rats, but it's not pondered on. The glimpses are quick, creating a greater level of fear since we have to try to grasp what we think we saw through the peephole.

If I have any real complaint with Mulberry Street, it's that the movie is too short. It runs eighty-four minutes, a standard running time for a horror movie, and this is one of the rare cases where it does not feel like enough. I wanted to spend more time with these characters, to see more interaction between them. After getting comfortable with who they are, the picture wrings us dry and then lands at a very abrupt conclusion. I was so invested in everything and everyone that I didn't want it to end, especially not without the smallest amount of anticipation. Surely the filmmakers could have found a way to close the movie with a bang instead of just a loud whimper. Even with this minor letdown, Mulberry Street is a wondrous achievement, a picture that understands that even horror movies are about more than just violence and gore. In this day and age, it's a diamond in the rough.

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Copyright, Hell and Beyond, 2008

It's Showtime!: Bob Fosse's All That Jazz

2008-03-29T10:24:00.000-07:00

Due to the fact it's become an overcrowded genre in the past three or four years, I am no longer a fan of biopics. I understand wanting to have a great actor portray a brilliant and tortured soul; the problem is that, even though they were all brilliant, they were all fucked up in the same way (troubled childhood, drugs, alcohol, infidelity). This leaves little room for surprises then, making the whole experience boring and stale. In the end, all you're able to pinpoint is which actor does the best impersonation of a whacked out entertainer.

While Bob Fosse's All That Jazz does fall into some of the familiar biopic traps, it is a different beast than the others altogether. Aside from being a nakedly revealing peek into Fosse's exhausting life, we also are treated to a performance by Roy Scheider that is a piece of history. Forget how realistically Jamie Foxx played Ray Charles or Joaquin Phoenix played Johnny Cash; Scheider's work is more than just smoke and mirrors. Unlike other biopics where we feel like we're simply living in the moment, All That Jazz gives us the impression we could have always been there, witnessing the steady decline of an obsessed genius step by painstaking step.

Even if there is some heavy handed back patting here, there's no question that it takes a lot of guts to put yourself on the chopping block as openly as Fosse does. All That Jazz received comparisons when it came out to Fellini's 8 1/2, and why shouldn't it? Both pictures are about the artist, made by the artist, with the artist wearing effortless determination on their sleeves. Like Fellini, Fosse brings a hypnotic quality to the piece, staging many of his inner struggles set to nightmarish musical numbers. These moments, which are obviously the most personal to Fosse, are also where the movie falters. Each one pertains in some way to how he needs to improve his lifestyle, but instead of dragging this out into three complete songs, why not condense them into one? By the time the last one is through, the idea has reached overkill.

If overkill is a bad thing in that respect, it lends itself well in other ways. On numerous occasions throughout, Fosse shows us his morning ritual, which includes taking a shower, downing some pills, and filling his eyes with drops. The first few times, it's shown at rapid pace but as we reach the picture's center, he begins to slow it down a bit. And notice how as the speed of the routine slows, Fosse shoots his main character at low angles, subtly letting us know how far he's beginning to sink. It's fantastic technical filmmaking, with most of the credit belonging to editor Alan Heim, who won an Oscar for his work here. Equally as impressive is the movie's opening, a tryout session, which manages to be dialogue free for close to five minutes (!). It's a gusty sequence to have at the beginning of the picture, and yet it's cut in hopes the audience will become quickly acquainted with Fosse's world.

In the movie, Fosse changes his name to Joe Gideon, brought to life by Scheider as a man driven by his work and an unapologetic taste for woman. It's loosely based on the early stages of bringing "Chicago" to Broadway, from the casting to the rehearsals. Some of the liveliest moments involve the pressure Gideon puts on the dancers to turn his vision into a reality, especially when pertaining to Victoria (Deborah Geffner), a lousy dancer he was convinced could be shaped into something special for no other reason than the fact she had great legs (and was great in bed). Less interesting are the scenes of Gideon attempting to edit a stand up comedy movie he's directed.

The other women in his life watched this dedication with jealousy and remorse. Gideon's ex-wife (Leland Parker) and current girlfriend (Kate Jagger) seem to have a hard time dealing with his unfaithful behavior, and yet, due to his sheer willingness to throw himself into his work, they are unable to simply write him off. The picture's first hour is the most effective, since it shows Gideon at the top of his game, taking heavy risks by having the cast perform a routine sans clothes and a dose of sexuality that will quickly turn family audiences away from the show.

The second hour focuses on Gideon's failing health, beginning with an excellent scene where he has the cast read through the script even though he can't hear a word anyone is saying. The rest of the time he's in the hospital, undergoing surgery and then not recovering because he'd rather by partying. (SPOILER WARNING!) Fosse didn't pass away until eight years after All That Jazz was released, but that didn't stop him from having Gideon's post operation ignorance lead to his death. I think Fosse wanted the world to know this where he was headed, that his sheer willingness to continue filling his body with sources to help him function would catch up sooner or later. Aside from Scheider, I can't say I'm a huge fan of the closing scene, a musical number Gideon performs for every person who's had an impact on his life. It became the moment for me where boldness turned into smugness.

There's a lot of memorable stuff in All That Jazz, the most autobiographical being Gideon's conversations with an angel (Jessica Lange, in her second movie role) who critiques every flawed aspect of his existence. These scenes are haunting, since it sets up Gideon's death from the very beginning. It's as if he already knows the outcome of his actions, and sees it as inevitable. The driving force behind it all is Scheider, who gives one of the best screen performances of all time. Watching him is to understand the meaning of the word sacrifice, as he puts every ounce his being into making Gideon as convincing as possible. There are no tricks or gimmicks to be found, just an actor who was able to make us believe, with every role, that he was someone else. Is there any doubt that Fosse didn't see his reflection every time he yelled "action"? Had he continued to direct movies, Scheider would have been the perfect muse.

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Copyright, Hell and Beyond, 2008

Have a Nice Apocalypse: Richard Kelly's Southland Tales

2008-03-23T11:04:00.000-07:00

When a writer/director's debut movie is met with a shower of critical acclaim, I would imagine it puts a lot of pressure on them when it comes time to make their sophomore effort. The expectations are immensely high, but despite this, the filmmaker does have a valuable tool in their favor. Since their first feature was met with positive feedback, they will most likely be guaranteed the freedom to do whatever they want. That being the case, why not go for broke and make the movie you always dreamed of making? It'd be an even bigger risk to pass it up and take on another project, for this could be the one and only shot to create a particular vision.

Craig Brewer did it with the follow up to his conventional debut, Hustle and Flow, with Black Snake Moan. The chances he took were enormous and in my book, they paid off. The movie was not a commercial success and Brewer's deal with Paramount fell through, so I hope he's at least satisfied the picture exists. Black Snake Moan is one of those movies, I think, that will gain momentum as the years progress. Sophomore projects, unfortunately, often follow this pattern, and while it may not seem ideal, there's always anticipation the filmmaker will still get to see their movie properly recognized in their lifetime.

Richard Kelly had a stunning debut with Donnie Darko, a multi layered science fiction picture that also closely observed the hardships of adolescence. When it premiered at the Sundance Film Festival, nobody cared and it looked as if it might never see the light of day. But then a funny thing happened. The picture got a small release, the critics responded positively, and the video release almost immediately attracted a horde of obsessed fans. Theater screenings began to emerge, a director's cut was released, and the world finally knew who Richard Kelly was and eagerly waited to see how he planned to blow their minds next.

Southland Tales is obviously a very important and personal work for Kelly. Keeping in mind that he may only get one shot at bringing it from page to screen, he pounced on it and never looked back. While the politics in Donnie Darko were subtle but certainly present, Southland Tales is out for blood. It was first unveiled at the 2006 Cannes Film Festival in a two hour and forty minute cut that left a good portion of the audience booing or heading for the door. How could something that felt so right to Kelly feel so wrong to the masses? In response, Kelly chopped seventeen minutes away, added a voice over narration, and was able to secure a release of less than one hundred screens. The question that remained was whether or not an audience would ever discover the movie as they had his debut.

Before finally seeing Southland Tales on DVD, I had read a swarm of negative reviews and a handful of praise, and while I'm not one to normally take in other opinions until after I've seen the picture myself, for some reason I could not help it. It had been a long time since I had grown so intrigued to see a movie, no matter how disastrous it was supposed to be. Lucky for me, the reviews really didn't give away anything that might ruin the experience, if there was going to be one. It was as if both sides of the fence were struggling to determine how they should describe the picture.

I've watched Southland Tales twice now, and I'm not sure how to quite convey it myself. The first time was a bit overwhelming more than anything; Kelly stuffs the picture with so much that it's often difficult to keep up with what is going on. The casting only adds to the confusion. Kelly has assembled a group of faces you never thought you'd see in the same movie, let alone one about the apocalypse (although many of them have been in movies you felt might lead to the apocalypse). And yet, even after the bewilderment of my initial run through, the movie continued to hold my brain hostage with scattered images and biblical quotes.

To put it simply, Southland Tales is about the United States of America in 2008. There's been another nuclear attack, this time in Texas, and the event has led to paranoia and widespread panic. The government has complete control over what people do, even spying on them while they take shits in an airport restroom. It's a presidential election year, and the hope is that the Republicans will win in order to put someone in office not afraid to "take charge." All the while, scandals are heating up that could affect the election and throw the country into even greater chaos.

Yeah, I'd have to say that's the super abridged version. To go into great detail about what happens in Southland Tales would take many, many pages. The more important question, of course, is does the movie accomplish what it sets out to do? When I was through, did I feel like it enhanced my life as a moviegoer in some way or another? After the first viewing, I was certain of three things: either, it was a masterpiece I had yet to grasp; it was a complete and dismal disaster; or it was settled somewhere in between greatness and pretentiousness. Seeing the movie a second time was beneficial not just because I understood it more on a plotting level, but also because I found more reasoning behind the odd slapstick and the occasionally vulgar dialogue. Plus, I found myself further sucked into the collage of fever dreams Kelly has so vividly cooked up, many of them complimented by Moby's transfixing score.

I have a hard time going along with the conclusion that the movie has nothing to say. If there's a problem with the picture, it's that it has too much to say. I am anxious to see the longer version, if nothing else just to know what had to go and if it would have plugged some more of the movie's themes together. This is Kelly's response to everything he finds wrong with America, and he's thrown it all into a big pot and stirred it up. It's disorienting, but then again, so are the realities of the issues being addressed. Too much coherency would be missing the point; I truly believe Kelly meant for us to be genuinely flustered with the movie's events.

Now back to the casting. Many reviews have ripped into Kelly, saying his choices were clever for clever's sake, but I don't buy it. Sure, seeing The Rock, Jon Lovitz , and Seann William Scott onscreen together was surreal and a bit distracting at first, as was adjusting to the fact that, yes, that's Christopher Lambert (!) standing next to Cheri Oteri. But once again, I think this was yet another way to let the viewer know that this is an America where nothing is what it seems, a place where rules are no longer going to apply. The world is about to end, so all bets are off.

I've been amazed at how much pure hatred has been slung at Southland Tales. It's not that I don't sympathize with the negative points of view; I guess I just tend to have a contrary response when a movie wears its aspirations on its sleeve as nakedly as this one does. I wonder if a lot of the movie's detractors are pissed off because they get the sense that Kelly doesn't give a fuck if we connect with the movie or not. This is a bleak outlook, although it's not one that would shock me. I, for one, have thrashed movies that felt like they were intentionally shutting me out. I'm forgiving with Southland Tales due to Kelly's gift of making me an active observer. It's established from the start that he doesn't want me to be a part of the action; he wants me to be an outsider capturing each moment as if it's a breaking news story. Whether or not this theory will bring others to appreciate the picture down the road is near impossible to predict. Let's have faith that the outcome of Kelly's movie doesn't come true before we can find out.

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Copyright, Hell and Beyond, 2008

Childhood Memories Revisited: Steve Miner's House

2008-03-19T08:56:00.000-07:00

It's easy to see why I enjoyed House so much during my adolescent years. The movie is almost indescribably goofy, with a plot that barely registers and gags that disappear right after they're presented. I remember thinking it was funny and clever as a 15 year-old, albeit never scary in the least. And yet, I always filed House under the horror section of my VHS collection, since it contained so many traditional horror elements, like ugly beasties and creaky noises. Stand back and take a firm look at the picture and what you'll find is a straight up comedy, as even the monsters seem to be played for cheap laughs.

Revisiting House for the first time in at least ten years, I was struck by the "R" rating. Aside from a couple of f-bombs, there's really no reason why the picture shouldn't have been "PG-13." The only actual human death in the movie happens offscreen, and the one monster death is nothing worse than what was shown in pictures like The Monster Squad. This movie has teen fan base written all over it. In fact, I'd be hard pressed to find someone over the age of seventeen who would really defend it wholeheartedly.

The fact the movie was so tame comes as a surprise given it was directed by Steve Miner and produced by Sean S. Cunningham, both of whom at that point were involved with the Friday the 13th franchise. Maybe they saw it is an opportunity to turn down the volume, which isn't a bad idea, mind you, but instead of finding a story with some real inspiration, they settled on a haunted house movie that is as bare bones as they come. I sensed Miner's lack of substance following the sixth near identical nighttime shot of the house. If continuing to show the exterior at a low angle was supposed to establish an eerie mood, I'd have to say it failed.

The story involves Roger Cobb (a clueless William Katt), a popular novelist who moves to his aunt's ominous house after she commits suicide. According to her, the house is haunted, and was even responsible for making Roger's young son disappear years earlier. Once back, strange things begin to happen to Roger as he attempts to write his new book. The scenes of him brainstorming are set to flashbacks of his experiences in Vietnam, and given how cheesy and phony they look, I couldn't fathom how Miner expected us to take them at face value.

Yep, that's pretty much all there is to it. The movie also provides flashbacks to his son's disappearance, but aside from that, the pattern goes as follows: Roger hears a noise, Roger follows the noise, Roger opens the closet door and finds nothing, Roger tries again and is attacked by something slimy and nasty. You know, it's your classic Man Vs. House story, in which the only way to come out on top is to stare your fears right in the face and tell them off. This would be all well and good had the movie done something creative; alas, it settles for generic looking creatures and a conclusion that rips off A Nightmare on Elm Street.

In a way, it's hard to believe the movie even exists given its flimsy premise and execution. The biggest problem I had with it is that there are no rules. Monsters are allowed to exist without reason, objects come to life for no reason, and other worlds are inhabited within the house for no reason. Yes, there is a small explanation as to what happened to Roger's son, but that hardly provides any rationality for everything I just mentioned. I'm not asking for plausibility; I am just a believer that if a movie is going to live in its own universe, it needs to make it a place the audience can understand.

I did still find some simple pleasures in the movie that I remembered from my many childhood viewings. George Wendt offers some nice laughs early in the movie as Roger's lonely neighbor. And I love the way Roger is randomly ambushed from time to time by his (floating) garden tools. But for every small moment that provokes a smile, there's always another that constitutes a groan. The movie tries to cover up its lack of material by throwing in random supporting characters. The worst of the lot is Tanya (Mary Stavin), a sexy neighbor who tricks Roger into babysitting her annoying moppet.

House was successful enough (it grossed $19 million on a $3 million budget) to spawn three (!) sequels, one of which was unofficial. I have a difficult time grasping that anyone liked this movie enough to ask for that many follow ups, especially two that were unrelated. Despite my childhood admiration for the picture, I'd be more than a bit skeptical recommending it to today's teenagers. Due to CGI and hardcore horror movies like Saw, they'd take one look at House and toss it in the fire. In other words, it's the kind of movie that will only live in the nostalgic hearts of those who grew up with it. I am always a skeptic when I revisit favorites from my early years, but end up doing it anyway because hey, memories can only take you so far. The flipside, of course, is that going back is a good way to help you realize it's time to put those fond memories to rest.

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Copyright, Hell and Beyond, 2008

John Carpenter and George Miller Should Revolt: Neil Marshall's Doomsday

2008-03-17T08:35:00.000-07:00

Seeing a bad movie is one thing; seeing a bad movie by a talented filmmaker is another thing altogether. Usually the first thought I have after witnessing a disappointment from someone I've had faith in is: why? Why did you feel like you had to make this movie? What was so important about it to you? Please tell me this is not your life's work, that one project you've been building up to, the one you hope will "define" who you are as a filmmaker and an artist. I tend to have a great deal of tolerance for movies made by someone I like, even if it is so bad I want to cover my eyes. I'll always give them the benefit of the doubt until the screen fades to black.

I was intrigued from the beginning with Doomsday, only because it was coming from Neil Marshall, who helmed the splendid genre picture Dog Soldiers and the creepy and sometimes downright terrifying The Descent. He's one of the more promising writer/directors around, having with just two pictures established himself as a vivid eye when it comes to crafting genre pieces. It can be the hardest type of movie to get right since the filmmaker always runs the risk of their work coming off as too cheesy, too absurd, or just plain dumb. I understand that in a genre movie, dumb is often the point, but there does need to be a limit. Once the audience begins to feel as scatterbrained as the movie they're watching, problems arise.

So, Marshall was two for two, and I was anticipating the streak to continue. I wasn't crazy about the marketing, but I let my weariness pass. Then came the decision not to screen the movie for critics, which brought my worries back, but again, I pushed them away in hopes that maybe the studio was being a little too cautious. Trying to keep a positive mindset is often a good way to set yourself up for disappointment, as more often then not when you fear a movie is going to be bad, most of the time it is.

My false hopes certainly did not help Doomsday in the long run, but I'll be damned if it didn't have me fooled for about forty-five minutes. The movie opens with a deadly virus wiping out the population of modern day England. There are, without question, numerous shots of people being gunned down by the military while trying to escape, only to be followed up by voice overs showing maps of the damage and the wall that was built in order to separate the infected from the healthy. These early scenes, which are set to a synthesizer score, reminded me of a darker, modern day Escape From New York. The intention that Marshall was obviously aiming to make his own version of John Carpenter's classic is confirmed when the hero is introduced. Her name, Eden Sinclair (Rhona Mitra), may not sound quite as cool as Snake Plissken, but she does sport the signature eye patch and consistently asks for a smoke. Oh yeah, and it takes place in the future.

Instead of rescuing the president, Eden's mission is to lead a team over the wall in hopes they can find a cure for the virus. Simple enough, so it seems, the main issue being that the survivors who dodged the virus live as savages. At this point, Doomsday slowly starts to shift gears, moving out of Carpenter territory and into Mad Max (particularly The Road Warrior) territory. Even then, I was still with the picture, for combining elements from different genre movies isn't a sin. I must confess I enjoyed the first ridiculous attack sequence set in a hospital, and even got a kick out of the bizarre rally where the tribe of survivors prepare to feast on one of Eden's soldiers (I could have done without the cornball addition of a Fine Young Cannibals tune. Oh, the irony!).

Marshall and his Descent cinematographer, Sam McCurdy, stage some winning compositions during the first section, my favorite being when a flare is fired so Eden and the team can see their surroundings. McCurdy also makes nice use of lighting during a train escape. What's strange about the picture is how everything changes gears at the same time. Once Eden and her crew exit the train and wander through the woods, it's like we've entered a completely different movie, and not for the better. The retro score becomes overblown and bombastic, the action, while already frenetic, becomes even more confusing, and the welcome campy nature of the movie disappears.

It's as if Marshall had too much he wanted to accomplish and wasn't really sure how to construct his material into something sturdy. Or maybe he got carried away when it came to writing the movie's outrageous action sequences and forgot that he needed to include at least one solid plot development to hang them on. Eventually, it gets to the point where all the speeches intended on pushing the story forward are screeching the movie to a painful halt, mainly because the fear starts to arise that Doomsday might be taking itself seriously. I don't think it is; at least, that's the way I felt once the movie's climatic chase scene began. The whole sequence, which involves the heroes being pursued on a highway by the nutty survivors in their homemade vehicles, is edited at such a rapid speed there isn't a single moment the viewer can tell what the bloody hell is happening.

When the director and the studio execs screen the final version of their movie, how could either side see the benefit to having so many cuts during an action scene? Do they honestly believe it's exciting for an audience to get a headache from the angle changing every five seconds? And what's up with so many filmmakers now feeling like they have to shoot action close up? I can't answer for them, but I'm of the mentality that I like to actually see what's going on. It's not too encouraging when you can't tell who's hitting who, and it's even worse when you can't tell who won until the camera finally stops moving.

It seems like the bigger budget was too much for Marshall to handle. In fact, it wouldn't surprise me if he was given the deal before he started writing the script, giving him an opportunity to go for broke and not waste a penny of the proposed budget. He started out small scale, but as he kept reminding himself how much money he was going to have, his ambitions got bigger and bigger until it became about how much spectacle was going to be onscreen. I'd like to think that's what happened. It's true that every good filmmaker makes a bad movie; it's just always a tragedy to see a movie start with so much potential and go down the tube with the snap of the fingers.

I don't imagine John Carpenter or George Miller (Mad Max) would enjoy Doomsday very much. Carpenter's picture was about subtlety, after all, and his hero had a lot more appeal. Not to say that Rhona Mitra isn't a pleasure to look at, but as a character, there's nothing very entertaining about the way she's drawn. As for the subtlety part...let's just say that's a word this movie could never comprehend. All three of the Mad Max pictures were as insane and occasionally as violent as this one. Instead of pushing the violence too far, Miller focused on inventing an original world out of a setting consisting of nothing but dirt. Plus, his action, while kinetic, was filmed with a trained eye; he wanted us to get a rush out of what we were seeing. All of Marshall's action is overkill, and worse, he feels like every gory detail must be shown. For instance, when a tank runs over a cow, there must be a shot displaying the smooshed carcass. Necessary? Not in the least.

I often find gore to be effective or even fun in the right context, meaning I'm not generally one to complain about it. There's comes a point, though, when its excessiveness is no longer a worthy exposition, and Doomsday reaches that point early on. Marshall feels the need to show every single blood spurting shot he can, and it comes off as a joke at first. But once you've seen it fifteen times, it goes from amusing to childish. How could Marshall be so careless? Did he forget what made Dog Soldiers and The Descent work in the first place? Doomsday represents the first disappointment of 2008. What should have been a building block on a newly enthusiastic career instead stands as not just a step down, but a step back towards the beginning.

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Copyright, Hell and Beyond, 2008

Aiming for Mediocrity: Xavier Gens's Hitman

2008-03-13T10:55:00.000-07:00

I don't have a problem with video game movies, so long as I can understand them. There's nothing worse than trying to watch a movie based on a game that caters only to the people who have actually played it. I get the fact that the filmmakers want them to enjoy it and that's fine; but the rest of us deserve to have a good time, too. There are a great deal of cool looking games out there, meaning there are lots of opportunities to make entertaining movies out of them. In most cases, sadly, video game movies have been all about visuals and nothing about story, with the end result being dull or just plain dumb.

I've gone to see my fair share of game movies because, hey, I like some good eye candy. In order to work, though, the eye candy needs to serve some kind of artistic purpose and not just sit there on the screen. I'm not saying it has to voice something profound about the world; I just want the visual style to speak to me as a moviegoer. I don't expect a mind blowing story either; as long as it's sturdy enough to support the rest of the movie, I can forgive the lack of complexity. The best video game movie to do this so far has been Silent Hill, due to some of the most original and frightening images I've seen in a long time. I was also quite surprised by how cynical the story turns out to be once the movie reaches the conclusion.

French director Christophe Gans obviously had a clear vision when it came to bringing Silent Hill to the screen; if only the same could be said for his countryman Xavier Gens, who was given the task of adapting Hitman. I have not played "Hitman," but know that it has developed into a series of games. With this in mind, I was certain writer Skip Woods (Swordfish) could muster up at least a decent framework for the movie's action to hang on to. Instead, there's barely anything here resembling a screenplay. What we're left with is a potentially interesting character stuck in a movie that's as lifeless as he is.

What a missed opportunity Hitman turns out to be! Even though the idea behind the movie is nothing new, I was open to it, mainly due to the casting of Timothy Olyphant. Unfortunately, he's not given much of interest to do in between the action sequences aside from walk like The Terminator and give off an emotionless stare. As a viewer, I find it hard to want to follow the adventures of a character who has absolutely no big screen appeal. I guess all the filmmakers cared about was how Olyphant would look holding a gun.

Poor Olyphant has a bad habit of picking lousy scripts. He won me over with his hilarious and downright creepy porn producer Kelly in The Girl Next Door. Aside from that and his solid work on HBO's deceased "Deadwood," Olyphant hasn't really gotten a chance to show off his chops as a straight man or a villain, as he was wasted twice last year, once as a romantic lead (Catch and Release) and as a global domination hungry baddie (Live Free or Die Hard). Most of his roles have been underwritten, a disadvantage that leaves Olyphant struggling to bring his characters to life.

In Hitman, he plays 47, a contract killer who was trained in multiple forms of combat as a child and then branded with a tattoo of a UPC code. Early in the movie, he's in Russia and has just been assigned to kill the president. To his confusion, things do not go as planned and before he knows it, his own people are trying to take him out. Oh yeah, and Interpol is after him, too. Along the way, he picks up a supposed witness to his latest job, a prostitute named Nika (Olga Kurylenko). The movie then unfolds like a low rent version of The Transporter (which was already low rent, but in a good way) as 47 does his damnedest to keep the other agents in his field from offing Nika.

If there's a crucial difference between Jason Statham's Frank Martin and 47, it's that the latter has no romantic interest in the woman he's protecting. Nika makes quite a few advances, despite the fact 47 barely pays attention to her. Worse, it seems nuts she would want to get close to him considering he makes her spend her first car ride in the trunk on top of a corpse! As a character she's completely useless, since her only real purpose in the movie is to take her clothes off as much as possible. I'm not complaining about that, mind you, but it'd be nice if she were a challenge to 47 in some way. Instead, she simply exists as a nuisance.

The picture's other key character is Mike Whittier (Dougray Scott, awful as expected), an Interpol agent who's been after 47 for three years. His role in the movie is to rave about the "ghost" he's chasing, and of course no one except his partner believes him. A good chunk of Whittier's screentime consists of arguments with the Russian police, which goes nowhere since the banter feels like nothing but a time filling plot device. I've always found Scott to be a dreadful actor, mostly because he's never been able to find the middle ground between underacting and overacting.

If anything in the movie kept me from falling asleep, it was the action scenes. The shoot outs are not particularly exciting and yet, I found myself enjoying the hand-to-hand combat scenes (47's fight in a train station is a standout). All the action is shot in an annoying kinetic style that often makes it difficult to decipher who's firing and who's been hit. I don't where the rumor started that it's fun to watch quick cuts and sped up movements during an action sequence. Even though I could rarely tell what was going on, the cinematography and production design were appealing.

Even at a brisk 94 minutes, Hitman never feels like it goes anywhere worthwhile. We've seen all this done before (and better), which wouldn't bother me if the movie had something to hold attention. The whole affair ends up coming off in some ways like a video game, since the run time is spent going from one location to the next (much like changing levels). But unlike playing a game, an activity that can be stimulating and challenging, watching Hitman does not tap into any of our senses. Ultimately, the only part of me it tapped into was the memory, urgently preparing itself to erase the movie's existence upon completion.

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Copyright, Hell and Beyond, 2008

Trash to Treasure: Drake Floyd's Troll 2

2008-03-08T15:51:00.000-08:00

If cinema is an art form, then it only seems fair to embrace the bad as much as the good. I've always been a firm believer that to love movies, you have to be able to recognize that B-movies, no matter awful they are, do have some worth. Many may not agree with that idea; why waste your time watching a picture that is obviously going to be an utter disaster? It's not altogether a useless argument; there are lots of movies out there that are bad to the point we want to claw our eyeballs out. But what about the other ones? What about the movies that are so bad they're good? Can't we find the joy in sitting through something the average Joe would never pick up and see the beauty in it?

At first glance, it might be a stretch to call bad movies art. But isn't art supposed to be perceived through the eye of the beholder? I'm sure there are plenty of folks out there that think Picasso's paintings are shit. As far as cinema goes, I've met a number of people who think Citizen Kane is overpraised garbage. When so many movies try way too hard to say something important or profound, it's refreshing to see one that is what it is and does not aspire to be the best movie ever made. It just asks us to accept it on its own terms. True, the filmmaker may have been aiming for a completely different response, but it all leads back to the viewer's response to it.

I believe awesomely bad movies are, without question, a form of art. I often read reviews where the critic talks about the unintentional hilarity of the picture and still give it an ultra low rating. That's where the conundrum comes in for me. If I thoroughly enjoy a bad movie to the point I'm exhilarated, should I rip it to shreds for its sheer awfulness, or do I praise it for what it has achieved? I guess there's a certain level of embarrassment in awarding a bad movie for accidental accomplishments, but in my eyes, they're accomplishments all the same. It's no different to me than when a critic praises a movie for the same reasons I loathed it.

This may feel like a lot of explanation when preparing to talk about Troll 2, of all movies, but I feel it is necessary since I'm about to defend it. There's no doubt it is a complete catastrophe in every department: the writing, directing, acting, editing, special effects, music (the uproarious opening theme song sounds like it belongs on an '80s action television show). But these are precisely the reasons why I love it. In a movie this bad, the fact every element comes off as sloppy and amateurish is what gives the experience its charm. Had Troll 2 been a well made movie, it would be distracting and I probably wouldn't enjoy it all. If I'm going to appreciate bad art, I don't want it to look good.

The fact the movie's production was so bonkers only makes my affection for it bigger. The picture, for some odd reason, has no relation to the original Troll at all. In fact, there aren't even any trolls in it! The title was added after shooting was completed, maybe in hopes it would improve video sales. The writer/director, Claudio Fragasso, is Italian and inexplicably credits himself under the pseudonym Drake Floyd. He decided to shoot the picture in Utah and hired locals to play the roles, which threw extra pressure on them since none of the crew spoke English(!). Due to the communication barrier, the script was shot verbatim and the performances were never given clear direction.

Troll 2 was obviously made for no money. There are maybe four or five locations in the whole movie (not counting the woods), and the creatures, which are goblins, were played by midgets wearing potato sacks stuffed with pillows. There's nothing frightening about them in the least; even their masks look cheaply painted. To describe the movie's mind boggling story would ruin the surprises; not in the traditional sense, of course, but in the sense that the movie's biggest laughs would be ruined. The bottom line is that Troll 2 is funnier than most comedies I have seen in the past five years. The sheer absurdity of it, combined with how deathly serious it is played, is what works mostly in its favor.

You can feel every bit of confusion the actors had trying to play their roles. One wonders if they were all hired from the local playhouse since their performances (especially in the case of the adults) are so theatrical. Everyone delivers their lines at a high volume, and their facial expressions are always nervous or borderline hysterical. It's as if Fragasso, unable to tell them what he wanted from them, had to instead act it out himself and hope they'd follow suit. The fact that everyone seems to be trying to out act each other makes it damn near impossible to pick a favorite character. It kind of feels like it'd be unfair.

Lousy writing can often make us groan and cringe with disbelief. The same would normally be applied to Troll 2 if it weren't so random. The various pieces of the story shouldn't work well together, but everyone on board is so enthusiastic about making it believable there's little reason to poke at how preposterous it is. There isn't a single moment that isn't lovingly crafted. Despite how poorly made the whole movie is, I get the feeling that the people who brought it to life felt they were part of a worthwhile project.

That last point puts Troll 2 on the same level with Ed Wood's memorable movies. He wasn't a stickler for tiny details and felt the first take was always the best, and yet he was always passionate about every movie that carried his name. It's infeasible for me to believe that Claudio Fragasso wasn't the same way, even though I haven't seen any of his other movies. Watch Troll 2 for five minutes and you'd wonder how anyone could make it and not feel 100% connected to it.

The movie has developed a huge cult following over the years, which the star, Michael Stephenson (who just turned 30), recently discovered. He was ashamed of his involvement for a long time, was amazed how many people love the movie, and decided to jump on board with them and celebrate the fact that it has such a large audience. In addition to traveling around with some of the other cast members to screen the movie and meet the fans, Stephenson has also directed and produced a documentary called Best Worst Movie, which is about Troll 2's overwhelming popularity (it's slated for release this year).

The movie is a classic trash into treasure story. No one said art had to pretty, and Troll 2 defines that phrase like no other. It's hard to give a rating to a movie like this, since it exists in a world of its own. Not a movie I could visit on a regular basis, Troll 2 is one of those rarities you have a blast watching, hold on to the fond memories of, and then go back to every couple of years or so. It's strangely liberating to sit through, because it's proof that a movie with (on the surface) no redeemable qualities whatsoever could turn out to be a masterpiece of sheer insanity. It is indeed, the Best Worst Movie I have ever seen.

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Copyright, Hell and Beyond, 2008

The Lost King of Comedy: Eddie Murphy in Coming to America

2008-03-07T18:17:00.001-08:00

John Landis's Coming to America was released in 1988 at the height of Eddie Murphy's career. It found itself sandwiched in between the inevitable success of Beverly Hills Cop II and the disaster of Eddie's directorial debut, Harlem Nights (this was his first and last trip behind the camera). Up until Coming to America, Eddie had played foul mouthed and aggressive characters, men who got what they wanted by being an incredible asshole. I'm certainly not knocking those early performances; at the time, they were what defined Eddie Murphy, and I'll be damned if he wasn't great at it.

While his movies were pretty well received in the beginning, by the time he hit The Golden Child (a picture I loved as a kid, but would be frightened to revisit now) and Cop II, his act was wearing thin with critics. So, it almost seems like Coming to America emerged out of nowhere; here was Eddie Murphy as a sweet and innocent character, a man who just wanted to find true love and did so without trying to intimidate anyone with his behavior. He does use some bad words in the picture, but the character he plays, Prince Akeem, repeats vulgarities that he hears and does not understand. It was a surprising change of pace, if anything because it showed that aside from being a talented comedian, he's a good actor too.

Eddie came up with the idea for Coming to America, and let's face it, there's nothing particularly great about it on paper. An African prince who does not want to be forced into an arranged marriage travels to America to choose his own bride. The hook, of course, is that he pretends to be common so she will fall in love with who he is, not what he is. This could have easily been a recipe for failure, but Eddie brought it to life by playing four (!) different roles and was able to surround himself with a terrific supporting cast. It's safe to say that ensemble comedies like this are hard to find these days.

To ensure the material would not be run-of-the-mill, Eddie brought in David Sheffield and Barry W. Blaustein, both of whom were writers during his days on "Saturday Night Live." And he was able to rope in John Landis, who had seen success with National Lampoon's Animal House (1978), The Blues Brothers (1980), and had directed Eddie in Trading Places (1983). I'll agree that the screenplay is good and so is the acting, but I do have an issue with giving too much credit to Landis. I've always had a strong feeling that he must be a really good people person; look at any one of his memorable comedies and you'll see that he has very little to do with why they work so well. As I watched Coming to America again, I noticed how simple his direction is. Landis has a knack for getting the right people, framing them competently, and then letting them do what they do best. All he really has to do is sit back and laugh when the joke is over.

As perfectly suited as the cast is, Eddie is the glue that holds it all together. There was a time when he had a clear focus and was able to get everyone else in on it. Watch what he does now and you'll find a man who's desperately trying to hold on to who he once was. I can't think of a single moment in Coming to America where he's not at the top of his game: confident, appealing, happy. Maybe that's what's missing most from his performances now; he's lost those three feelings and has replaced them with constant pressure to somehow stay in the limelight. There's no doubt in my mind that continuing to make family oriented movies is the simplest way for audiences to remember who he is.

The movie is interestingly a fair tale in reverse for the hero; he has to go from riches to rags to find his true love. The movie opens as if we've just gazed upon the first page of a storybook, with a sweeping shot over the mountains of the fictional African city of Zamunda. It ends on the castle of King Jaffe Joffer (a no nonsense James Earl Jones), whose son, Prince Akeem, is celebrating his 21st birthday. The tone is set right from the start as the picture pokes glorious fun at the ridiculousness of royalty. Akeem has servants to brush his teeth, wipe his backside, and even wash his "royal penis." And since he is royalty, there are rose bearers on hand to sprinkle petals in front of him as he walks.

Akeem does not like the tradition of having a spouse chosen for him. Why would he want to marry someone he does not know and more so, someone who will do nothing more than obey his every command? He sets up a forty day trip to America, believing that the best place to find his real bride will be in Queens, New York. Once he arrives, the movie turns into the classic fish-out-of-water story, as the sheltered Akeem is exposed for the first time to big city life. Wisely, Coming to America does not spend a lot of time showing Akeem struggling to adapt to a world he does not understand. He is soft natured and naive enough that he excepts everything on its own terms. There's hardly a moment when he's not smiling with wonderment.

The picture's weakest sequence is the obligatory auditioning sessions Akeem holds with the women he meets. I know we're supposed to throw caution to the wind here, but it gets a bit tedious when each candidate is more of a crackpot than the last (one claims to have been Joan of Arc in a former life). Of course, he does eventually find his prize in Lisa (the tremendous Shari Headley), and lucky for him, she is not attracted to riches, since Akeem's goal is to come off as lower class. Naturally, her boyfriend, Darryl (Eric La Salle) is a jerk. Like I mentioned earlier, we've seen it all more times than needed. The difference is that this time, the performances are on target and each scene is filled with one-of-a-kind supporting characters.

Easily the juiciest comic creations are the ones conjured up by Murphy and his co-star, Arsenio Hall, whose main role is as Akeem's servant, Semmi. The two have a blast in the now famous barber shop scenes, disguised by pounds of makeup as grouchy old men who fight all day about who's the best boxer. Every scene involving these guys is a riot, the best being when they attend a Black Awareness Week rally (one of them accidentally puts a chicken bone in the collection plate). Yes, these supporting characters remind a lot of the roles Murphy had played before; this time, however, it comes off as completely new since it is being played out of its usual context.

What amazes most about the picture is how well the supporting characters are drawn. Instead of being portrayed as one dimensional, they're each recognizably human. For instance, Cleo McDowell (John Amos), Lisa's father, owns a McDonald's knock off restaurant and is only concerned with his own success (observe how callously he treats his employees). Darryl is a model for Soul Glo, a horrifying product that gives curly hair some extra shine (he is a good counterpart for Cleo in that he thinks everyone else is beneath him). The best performance besides Murphy's is Arsenio Hall's. Semmi could easily be read as the thankless tag-a-long, but Hall crafts him into someone relentlessly stubborn (I love how he responds to Akeem's request to clean up their dumpy apartment). His crowing work, however, is in the form of a minister who never stops preaching. This alone makes me wonder how Hall did not have a substantial movie career.

None of it should work at all, and yet the effortless cast makes it happen. Holding it together, though, is Eddie Murphy; every time I looked at his eyes throughout the picture, I could tell he believed in what he was doing and because of that, everyone else had faith in the material, too. He was the real deal, and Coming to America is almost depressing, really, because it presented a hope that Eddie was going to steer his career in a new direction. Not to say he hasn't had a few excellent performances since then (The Nutty Professor, Bowfinger). Sadly, his work here was one of the last glimpses we'd get of a truly talented comedian and actor reminding us why we loved him in the first place. I sure miss that guy.

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Copyright, Hell and Beyond, 2008

Scorsese Does Hitchcock

2008-03-07T14:39:00.001-08:00

What a rare and beautiful thing this is for fans of both of these master filmmakers!

http://www.scorsesefilmfreixenet.com/video_eng.htm

What's frustrating about it is what a small glimpse we get of what could have been another Hitchcock masterpiece.

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