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

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

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.


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Copyright, Hell and Beyond, 2009

Consenting Adults: David Gordon Green's Snow Angels

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.


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Copyright, Hell and Beyond, 2008

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

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.


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Copyright, Hell and Beyond, 2008

A Splendidly Dark Summer

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?


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Copyright, Hell and Beyond, 2008

Final Friday Thoughts: Was It a Great Cinematic Experience?

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

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