Film Review

You Can't Keep A Good Blood-Sucker Down

Gary Lucas — Thu, 19 Dec 2024 00:50:37 +0000

You Can't Keep A Good Blood-Sucker Down Gary Lucas December 18, 2024 - 19:50

Topics

Tags

This is actually pretty, pretty, pretty good for an umpteenth go-round with the old bloodsucker—vampires being near and dear to my heart ever since I read a paperback copy of Bram Stoker's Dracula with a photo of Christopher Lee on the cover while at summer camp in 1963. In fact, as a boy, I aspired to grow up to become either a vampire or a rabbi. I'm not kidding. It must be my double Gemini nature. This archetypal pair of opposites attract as they embody the age-old dialectic of Good and Evil/Love and Hate—sometimes even in a single cinematic pair of hands:

Director Robert Eggers (The Witch, The Lighthouse) was extremely engaging and forthright in the Q&A at the Directors Guild of America screening on Sunday night, Dec. 15th. He discussed his lifelong obsession with Dracula/Nosferatu (my obsession, also), even directing and acting in a high school theatrical production of Nosferatu.

He frankly admitted he'd seen Werner Herzog's 1979 version Nosferatu the Vampyre multiple times as a teenager—an influence which is fairly obvious on his film, as much of Eggers's mise-en-scene adheres closely to Herzog's, including the casting of Lily-Rose Depp's Ellen, who bears an uncanny resemblance to Herzog's star, pale-cheeked and wide-eyed Isabelle Adjani. Adjani and Depp also share a propensity for evoking deep hysterical cum epileptic states (for said twitch, Adjani won a Cesar Award for her freakout in the Paris Metro scene in Andrezj Zulawski's shocker 1981's Possession).

My buddy Willem Dafoe is excellent as always as a less than perspicacious, on the verge of bumbling, benighted Van Helsing-like vampire hunter. Willem provides some necessary comic relief in his portrayal, and the DGA audience cheered his name (a local hero!) when it appeared in the opening credits.

Lily-Rose Depp in Nosferatu & Isabelle Adjani in Andrzej Żuławski’s Possession

Bill Skarsgård is stupendous as the hulking, fetid, cadaverous Count Orlock—the name was changed from Dracula in the original by screenwriter Henrik Galeen, as director F. W. Murnau was unable to obtain the rights to Dracula from the Bram Stoker Estate and did not want to be held liable for copyright infringement.

Eggers's big twist plot-wise herein is of a feminist take on the material, to wit that Lily-Rose Depp's character Ellen is revealed to be the preternatural architect of her own peril (and everyone else in the German town of Wismar)—and ultimately, she and she alone is the key to bringing the monster she has summoned across space and time to ground, so to speak.

I was really prepared to dislike this movie, but seeing was believing.

With three solid forays into the horror genre under his belt, Eggers has proved himself to be one of the most impressive directors of our generation, certainly in the horror and supernatural genres.

Now I wonder what he'd do with a straight-up comedy…

Add new comment

Her Body, Her Choice

Chet Kozlowski — Tue, 17 Dec 2024 03:31:26 +0000

Her Body, Her Choice Chet Kozlowski December 16, 2024 - 22:31

Topics

Film Review

Tags

drama

You'd be excused for thinking the new Czech film Her Body is something other than it is for the first hour. It's expertly shot and acted and appears to unfold as a tale of female empowerment.

Andrea Absolonová is a professional high diver who is Olympics-bound. She's been training since childhood and is in prime physical shape. Her body is maturing (her younger sister Lucie, also a diver, comments that Andrea's breasts are getting bigger) and she's on the cusp of adulthood. So if the years of training (and borderline bulimia) are going to pay off, the time is now. She is adored by fans, doted on by her parents, and standing tall and confident.

A tragic accident abruptly ends Andrea's career as a high diver. She is incapacitated, in a body brace, and still she pushes herself to return. Finally her coach tells her she's been replaced. She'll never attain her former status.

So Andrea starts to slack. She goes out clubbing. And she sleeps with a photographer who has been circling her since she rejected his advances while training. She knows that he has a "real job": he shoots porn movies and is tied in with the burgeoning underground industry (the film is set in the late 1990s-early 2000s). Andrea knows what he does and she wants in.

She throws herself into porn with abandon and is an instant star (now known as Lea De Mae). She trades a sport for celebrity or, as disapproving Lucie puts it, "fucking for cash." Andrea's parents take differing views: as the money rolls in, Mom delights in her daughter's good fortune. Her father tries to instill shame. Andrea is seduced by the wild life as her porn fame grows. She tracks her parents' estrangement and argues with her sister while partying and doing drugs.

The weight of this drama falls on Natalia Germani's able shoulders. She plays Andrea as focused and ambitious. Ms. Germani, a regular presence on Czech TV, is fit and attractive. Her demeanor suggests that what Andrea wants, Andrea will get. The actor's physical beauty and grace are capped by intelligent blue eyes that, while alluring, are steely. She simmers, giving Andrea Absolonová's quest deeper meaning.

Her Body is a solid film. Director Natálie Císarovská has a firm command of the material, giving Ms. Germani a strong showcase. Denisa Baresová as Lucie is a fine foil: young and waiflike, she gets stronger as her sister wanes. Zuzana Mauréry and Martin Finger as Andrea's parents adeptly portray the up-and-downsides of parental faith and ambition. Klara Belicova's cinematography is appropriately lush and tawdry as circumstances change. The sound design of Petr Cechák and Frantisek Sec accentuates Andrea's breathing, baring the effect of events on her metabolism; that sound is often the only thing we hear.

Warning: spoilers ahead.

The problem with Her Body is: it's a true story. The film must adhere to Andrea's biographical details. So it's disappointing that that story becomes so typical.

Porn is a stronger social force than we care to admit. It's as old as human communication. In these times it's toxic and corrupt—what isn't?—but porn's not just about human trafficking, as proven by the draw of non-pros to OnlyFans. In its purest form, porn epitomizes why we watch movies in the first place: to be aroused and to see something we haven't seen before. For the performer, it can be gratifying for its exhibition and endurance: See what my body can do? See how much it can take? For Andrea Absolonová, the experiences of diving and sexual display might have been similar: a pride in possessing a perfect physique and putting it through its paces.

In any case, it must have been more gratifying than a conventional tale of diminishing returns. And sadly, because we have Andrea's life story to work with, and she died young, we'll never know how she felt about it. The climax of her quest, and her life, amounts to an eleventh hour deus ex machina which does not grow organically out of her actions.

Ms. Císarovská's film has the potential to be a unique take on autonomy and the physicality that both sports and porn require. Andrea wants to exceed expectations and remain the center of attention. She goes from Princess to Harlot and manages to retain her dignity. While gorging on food and drink and sex, she secretly smiles. "I'm happy," she maintains. "Finally free."

So it’s too bad that ultimately Her Body’s message is trite and predictable. Andrea Absolonová’s story is interesting but not extraordinary. Director Natálie Císarovská and actor Natalia Germani make compelling drama of it until the facts demand banal morality. It's sometimes better to trust the fiction. It, like Ms. Germani's performance, reveals more when untethered from immutable "truths."

___________________________

Her Body. Directed by Natálie Císarovská. 2023. From Film Movement. On digital platforms. 105 minutes.

Add new comment

Horror Times Four

Chet Kozlowski — Fri, 06 Dec 2024 15:00:00 +0000

Horror Times Four Chet Kozlowski December 6, 2024 - 10:00

Topics

Film Review

Tags

horror

You Are Not Me

Directed by Marisa Crespo and Moisés Romera

Think Get Out cut with Rosemary’s Baby.

In You Are Not Me, Aitana (Roser Tapias) returns home for Christmas after three years with a same-sex wife, Gaby (Yapoena Silva), and a newly adopted infant, Joao. Her visit is unexpected, and her mother and father (Álvaro Báguena and Pilar Almeria) are curiously put off seeing her. Aitana discovers that she's been replaced by Nadia, a Romanian refugee. Nadia isn't a mere boarder: she has been given Aitana's bedroom, wardrobe, and memories. Aitana is dismayed, but Gaby wants to give Nadia a chance and their baby Joao a chance at grandparents.

But dark forces are afoot: personality changes in Nadia, disturbing dreams of Joao being tossed from an upstairs window, and her parent's involvement with a cult with satanic vibes and a charismatic leader suggest they may be caught up in something that could jeopardize them all.

You Are Not Me is the most fully realized of the films reviewed here. All elements are in sync: writing, directing, and acting. The actors are seasoned pros with mostly Spanish TV and some features to their credit. Its production values are high (probably due to its TV roots) and its scares are authentic.

You Are Not Me. In theaters and on digital December 6; Runtime 99 minutes.

What Lurks Beneath

Directed by Jamie Bailey

Think Alien cut with The Hunt for Red October by way of The Little Mermaid.

The crew of the submarine USS Titan find themselves on the brink of a confrontation with Russia that could lead to WW III. Their internal squabbles (the ship is saddled with unfamiliar personnel, a couple of whom are spies) are interrupted by celestial music from an unseen source and the discovery of a beautiful naked woman in a torpedo bay. She adds fizz by communicating telepathically with certain (but not all) members.

This one is writer-centric and very talky, with a script (by Marcus Raul) that takes provocative turns. The actors act valiantly, but a muddled sound design makes their dialogue hard to hear. The production is very low-tech. The height of technology is a laptop (how do they get the internet so far underwater?) Sets look secondhand or borrowed. What passes for command central of a submarine is a room with a sloppy pile of hoses, more like somebody's basement. The fate of the free world rests with a Ripley-style character. Beguilingly, What Lurks Beneath is summed up by a quote from James Brown (!)

What Lurks Beneath. On digital December 13. Runtime 102 minutes.

Chateau

Directed by Luke Genton

Think Blair Witch (for POV) cut with The Haunting of Hill House.

The title Chateau actually underplays the central gimmick of this film: it's shot from the perspective of an influencer posting her trip to a haunted house. The place in question is known as "Murder Castle," which collects souls. James (pronouns she, her), the influencer in question, works odd jobs in Paris, including cleaning the Chateau. She posts on social media, taking the viewer along, addressing them as "you guys" while trussed to a harness that mounts her phone and plunges her even more deeply into the action.

James is aided by the hapless Dash, a fellow couch surfer, and the conceit breaks to track him. James' story is complicated by the recent death of her mother and the disdain from her sister (who, by calling, interrupts James’ videoing) for not attending the funeral. But James refuses to relent in her quest for views.

Cathy Marks has a richly animated face, and as James, she makes an open, ingratiating host. As an actor, she has appeared in American Horror Story and The Young and the Restless. Colton Tran as Dash has the only other significant screen time. He’s known for TV’s The Sex Lives of College Girls.

But the gimmick is the thing, even as it reveals itself existential. In other words, it requires patience. Being put in the role of a viewer being catered to works at a curious remove from most cinema. Rather than enlisting our participation, it commodifies it and makes it explicit and artificial. "We" are no longer silent observers. "We" are as much a part of the cast as "they," and that transferal of agency wears thin pretty quick.

Chateau. On digital platforms, December 6. Runtime 84 minutes.

Bleeding - Directed by Andrew Bell

Think The Lost Boys by way of Gus Van Sant.

With What Lurks Beneath to Bleeding, we go from muddled to minimalist. Drug-seeking teens are turned into vampires by huffing "dust," powder laced with harvested vampire blood. Cousins Eric (John R. Howley) and Sean (Jasper Jones) are on the run from a jilted drug dealer. Eric mourns the recent death of his brother while attempting to keep Sean, who has taken up dealing himself, from full-blown addiction.

Bleeding is actor-centric. Mr. Howley and Jones are joined by Tori Wong as a mysterious damsel. The actors are young and attractive, and they do their best with what they’re given. They emote in tense confrontations that go nowhere. They writhe and cry and, well, bleed during the extended withdrawal scenes. They don’t have much to actually do, and when it comes, it's too little too late, and even that is in darkness.

Bleeding is atmospheric by default. It’s all shadows and silhouettes. Everything is dark, thematically and visually, and appears to have been filmed in the dark rooms of a single dark house. The movie tries to humanize vampires with a score that brings poignance to their plight.

It's hard to know what to make of Bleeding. It’s the first film for everybody involved, and it might have the best intentions. But darkness isn’t depth. One can view it generously as a moody tone poem, a fentanyl allegory, or simply a reel for aspiring actors.

Bleeding. Premieres at Dances With Films NY Dec. 6. Runtime 98 minutes.

Add new comment

Does Schindler’s List Meet Pink Flamingos in Solvent? Not Exactly.

Brandon Judell — Thu, 05 Dec 2024 02:04:41 +0000

Does Schindler’s List Meet Pink Flamingos in Solvent? Not Exactly. Brandon Judell December 4, 2024 - 21:04

Topics

Film Review

Tags

drama

As the end credits roll by for Solvent, an awe-inspiring pseudo-documentary, you'll be relieved to learn that "no mice, dicks, or feelings were hurt in the making of this film." I was indeed worried about the rodent.

The credits also note that "some pipe shots were taken in the plumbing system of Castle Leopoldskron in Salzburg, the film location of The Sound of Music." One can hear the Trapp Family slightly tossing in their caskets. (We'll get to those pipes in a second.)

Director/co-writer Johannes Grenzfurthner has noted that his latest filmic oddity is a spiritual successor to his two previous works, Making Threshold (2021) and Razzennest (2022). On experiencing Threshold at Festival Maudit, I was inspired to write: "With one of the best screenplays of recent years, . . . this deliriously witty, yet highly discomforting film is a wry, dissective look at modern society's derangement." The hero of that effort, a polymath, was searching for a cure for his extreme tinnitus utilizing worms, fungi, and a polyester shirt. He was shackled with a boyfriend who was an alcoholic acupuncturist and was also a bit of a pessimist: "If life gives you lemonade, inspect it closely. It might be piss."

Well, after enveloping myself in Solvent's similarly addictive frenziedness, I find myself once again writing: “This deliriously witty yet highly discomforting film is a wry, dissective look at modern society's derangement."

Solvent, however, has a slightly more optimistic hero: Gunner S. Holbrook (John Gries), an American former mercenary and recovering Catholic whose face we never view except for a quick snapshot. You see, he’s the head of a sort of documentary/research team, and he’s almost always behind the camera. His hands, his legs, and his private parts, though, do make appearances now and then.

The film opens in lower Austria on March 8, 2023, at 7:00 AM with Holbrook, his blonde academic Polish girlfriend Krystyna Szczepanska (Aleksandra Cwen), and several production aides setting up across from the farm of a former Nazi, Wolfgang Zinggl. Zinggl was involved with Chelmno, the first stationary facility where poison gas was used for the mass murder of Jews. (Please note there is frequent usage of Holocaust footage, mostly in photos and seconds-long clips, integrated throughout Solvent.)

Unpunished for his crimes against humanity, Zinggl apparently disappeared in 2014, and no one knows what happened to the gent who outwardly led a "normal" life after the war. Not even his grandson Ernst Bartholi (played by the director), who runs a woke PR boutique, has any answer. He does note of his relative, "[Gramps] never hit me. He was a nice guy," although admittedly, during the last years of Gramp's life, the man "became kookier and kookier." Rumors abound that a nearby swamp swallowed him up, and he is now haunted by his ghost.

What other ending would you propose for a man who often hung pigs from a door and then castrated them? His cats apparently enjoyed the tidbits Zinggl scattered on the ground. (Two butchers are also listed in the credits.)

Anyway, what Holbrook's group is after is the Nazi's "Judenkiste" (Jew Box), a container said to contain documents and personal accounts of those who died at Chelmno.

Well, where can such a container be hidden? In the Nazi's house? Entering the abandoned home, Holbrook and crew, attired in hazmat suits, discover a porn collection, banana-flavored antidiarrheals, and much untidiness. No box. So, was this venture going to be a complete loss?

A curious, buffoonish neighbor pops by and asks whether anyone has checked out Zinggl's wine cellar across the road? What wine cellar?

At full gallop, the squad rushes over into the dark, musky oenophile's liquor dungeon, but is anything there of importance? Not at first glance. Just an ordinary-looking pipe sticking up in the middle of the floor. Cold air seems to be escaping from this eerie metal cylinder. Is this proof of another room below? If so, what will happen if you twiddle with this inanimate metal curiosity? Or worse, if you lower a camera through the pipe into the cellar's lower depths? Oh, no!!!

What follows defies easy categorization. There is horror, comedy, surrealism, underground absurdity, and even a dash of romance, but these genres are called upon to do more than entertain. Along with his co-writer Ben Roberts, Grenzfurthner unites every aspect of filmmaking with his encyclopedic knowledge of science, history, and philosophy to expose how historical violence and hatred have refused to remain historical. Croatia, the Middle East, and Bolivia are among the areas that get a current nod here.

As the director notes in Solvent's press notes: "The film's grotesque imagery underscores its themes, depicting the twisted and deformed nature of the past that shapes our present. While Solvent features an artistically exaggerated core, it diverges from typical horror films that use Nazis as central motifs. My goal is to use this stylized approach to explore the enduring effects of Nazi ideology and its infiltration into modern society."

Grenzfurthner succeeds grandly.

(Solvent won "The Film from Hell (Best of the Fest)" award at the Nightmares Film Festival 2024.)

Add new comment

Soon You Will be a Shadow

Chet Kozlowski — Tue, 03 Dec 2024 12:52:46 +0000

Soon You Will be a Shadow Chet Kozlowski December 3, 2024 - 07:52

Topics

Film Review

Tags

noir

Victor Erice made his bones with his first feature, The Spirit of the Beehive. Since then, he’s done two more features—El Sur (1983) and Dream of Light (1992)—and shot footage for film anthologies and audio/visual installations. The Spirit of the Beehive is 50 years old this year. Mr. Erice now returns with the masterful and poignant Close Your Eyes.

It extends the film-within-a-film conceit. Its protagonist is a filmmaker, Miguel Garay (Manolo Solo), whose last film was an opus titled The Farewell Gaze. In the middle of the production, Julio Arenas (José Coronado), its lead actor and Garay’s close friend, vanished during production and left the film unfinished. Subsequently, Garay gives up filmmaking and turns to novels. Years pass and Gary’s career sputters to a halt. Then the host (Helena Miquel) of a popular TV show, Unresolved Cases, contacts him for a feature about the puzzling circumstances.

This launches Garay on an odyssey: with the help of his former film editor, Max Roca (Mario Pardo), he takes up the mystery anew. In his travels, Garay encounters Arenas’ daughter Ana (Ana Torrent) and Lola, the woman he and Arenas love (Soledad Villamil). He will ultimately be aided further by characters played by Petra Martínez and María León, whose roles I won't reveal for fear of spoilers. Suffice it to say that newcomer Venecia Franco is a character who brings Close Your Eyes to a devastating climax.

Garay's sentimental journey becomes an engrossing riddle and a meditation on age, the caprice of memory, the fluidity of identity, and the cinema itself. Close Your Eyes revels in the past: editor Roca preserves movies in metal canisters and bemoans the end of celluloid; notes and journals are written by hand; the abandoned Farewell Gaze has its roots deep in Noir, styled on Howard Hawk's The Big Sleep, with more than an offhand reference to the classic The Shanghai Gesture.

Each step of Garay's journey peels back another layer, sometimes asking more than it answers, revealing forgotten connections and rekindling suppressed emotions. The performances are all excellent, with full commitment to Mr. Erice’s deeply personal vision.

The tableau builds in intensity and becomes heartbreaking.

Mr. Erice accomplishes this with an able cast and a skilled crew: director of photography Valentín Álvarez, editor Ascen Marchena, and art director Curru Garabal construct two worlds, the fanciful and the "actual," both as elemental as you can imagine. Their color palette is earthy and sensual, complementing Mr. Erice's framing. The original score by Federico Jusid guides us almost undetectably.

Close Your Eyes is long, almost three hours, and it flies by. The film is constructed as a series of blackouts, artful fades-to-black that end scenes suspensefully and on the right contemplative note. Footage from The Farewell Gaze bookends the film: its denouement has all the characters assembling to watch the unfinished reels.

I'm old. Victor Erice has ten years on me, but our affections align: I, too, grew up totally immersed in the enormous images projected on the screens of movie palaces. And to this day, I weigh its formative effect on me. It's an interpretation of life that Mr. Erice knows better than most and renders beautifully. Close Your Eyes is an old-school moviegoer’s delight, a sumptuous ballad to a bygone era.

This may very well be Mr. Erice's final film, and if so, it caps off a long and varied career. Close Your Eyes is a love letter to the profession compromised by screens and speed.

________________________________

Close Your Eyes. Directed by Victor Erice. 2024. From Film Movement. On cable VOD, and digital platforms. 169 minutes.

Add new comment

Gluteus Maximus

Gary Lucas — Mon, 18 Nov 2024 20:30:06 +0000

Gluteus Maximus Gary Lucas November 18, 2024 - 15:30

Topics

Film Review

Tags

action

The 2001 GOLDEN GLOBES may best be remembered as the night that 78-year DAME ELIZABETH TAYLOR drew out the presentation of the Best Dramatic Film of the Year Award by first half-mangling the envelope containing the name of the winning film before being admonished by stagehands and production staff to announce the full slate of candidates first: Erin Brockovich, Wonder Boys, etc.. Eventually, she tore open the already half-mangled enveloped and extracted the card…and then issued forth with a high-pitched squeal of delight:

"And the winner is…GLAAAADIATOR!!"

The audience cheered. Dick Clark looked ashen and rolled his eyes—and I must confess I groaned (and not due to my empathy for poor Elizabeth's Biden-moment-like seeming cognitive infirmity gone live on national TV).

I groaned because I had recently come back from a lengthy European tour and needed to find out what all the hoo-hah was about this Gladiator thingy, the most recent cinematic gloss on ye olde Swords-and-Sandals genre, featuring Russell Crowe in a decidedly low-energy turn (his off-the-cuff mumbled "Upon my signal—unleash Hell" line being the biggest hoot of the film). And to think that THIS GUY was considered by critics and audiences of the day to be the finest actor of those years?? The whole picture stank, imho. My cup runneth over with scorn.

Now, we the commoners, of course, have grown up over many years with proper Ancient Roman displays of gratuitous violence and barbarism on the silver screen—going back to Francis X. Bushman’s and Ramon Novarro's 1926 turn in Ben Niblo's Ben Hur: A Tale of the Christ…through Charles Laughton's decadent campy swish-athon as Emperor Nero in Mervyn Leroy's shockingly bloody (for 1951) Quo Vadis…touching on Stanley Kubrick's superb 1960 Spartacus with Kirk Douglas in top form …and on up through the mega-Brit 1976 television version of Robert Graves's I Claudius featuring Derek Jacobi (who is in both Gladiator's).

And truth to be told, methinks there is way more life in any of these aforementioned filmic and televised versions than in either Gladiator.

Once a world-class director with credits such as Blade Runner and Alien, Ridley Scott should seriously consider quitting at this point (ditto Francis Ford Coppola).

I mean, do either of these guys need any more buckets of ducats showered on their bloated productions??

I hate to say this because I adore Scott's early science fiction films (as well as Coppola's masterful early films like The Conversation). But like Coppola, Scott really seems way past his sell-by date, given the current climate.

Last year's Napoleon was a shameful embarrassment. Good old eccentric Joaquin Phoenix (and hey, I'm his fan, kind of) stumbling around Egypt firing loose cannonades aimed at the Sphinx (which never happened, which is true of at least 80% of the script according to the Napoleonic Code of worldwide historians and academics devoted to the Telling of Historical Truths, forsooth).

"Won't you JOIN ME?" was one of the plum moments plucked for the worldwide TV ad for Napoleon. Indeed. (A variant of this line is spoken by Paul Mescal in Gladiator in a bit of self-referential Ridley Scott-ism. Maybe they are gonna use that in the new TV ballyhoo to be rolled out this week. Would make sense, in an exhortatory kind of way).

This here movie is just a Holy Roman Empirical Mess. The CGI looks dated (blood-thirsty baboons, sharks, and rhinos cavorting in the Coliseum, notwithstanding). The soundtrack speaks in tongues, the principal actors boasting a mish-mosh of accents like in a badly-dubbed Steve Reeves Italian spectacle picture from the '60s. Denzel Washington sounds like he just stepped off the IRT, Irish hunk Paul Mescal sports the traces of his Trinity College acting school, and Pedro Pascal sounds and facially looks like he stepped out of the wrong epoch entirely.

Yet the film will run and run. It ticks all the boxes: Gross arterial spray? Check! Overly verbose exposition of key plot points? Check! Dialogue that sounds like it was run through an AI filter to remove all traces of anything resembling the way people might actually have conversed in those days? Check! And THAT my friends is Entertainment!

I was dying for the film to cut loose into pure burlesque on the order of "J. Caesar" (a one-act 19th-century farce I played Mark Anthony in up at Camp Kennebec in the early '60s).

You know, Cris Shapan-like cut-and-thrust parody/folderol:

That would have been way, way better than this po-faced exercise in Blockbuster 101. You know, camp it up!

When Pedro Pascal gets the crown of laurels put on his head publicly near the beginning of the film as a reward for his most recent rape, pillage, and slaughter, Scott should have had a member of the royal Roman retinue gasp and shout out:

"HE WEARETH THE HEAD-GEAR OF THE KING!!"

You know—foreshadowing shit.

In summa—there is more life in one frame of Howard Hawks's 1955 laff-riot Land of the Pharaohs starring Jack Hawkins and Joan Collins with a script by an in-his-cups William Faulkner than in the whole 144 minutes of this eye-and-ear-sore.

One redeeming feature: Dead Can Dance's Lisa Gerrard's name pops up in the soundtrack credits, which was nice—so hey, I'm not a TOTAL curmudgeon here.

But overall, THUMBS WAY WAY DOWN.

Add new comment

A Glitch in Time

Chet Kozlowski — Sat, 16 Nov 2024 14:56:21 +0000

A Glitch in Time Chet Kozlowski November 16, 2024 - 09:56

Topics

Film Review

Tags

science fiction

“We’re getting you home,” Joe promises his sister Sidney. In the fascinating new thriller, Things Will Be Different, “home” isn’t a place but a point in time.

The pair are dressed as survivalists, wearing Carhart coats and wool caps, and are armed with tactical rifles. They bolt at the sound of approaching police sirens. They retreat to an abandoned farmhouse, where they are poised to receive instructions from some unidentified authority. They perform an intricate procedure for synchronizing clocks that involves codes and incantations. They enter a bedroom closet that transports them back in time.

We know Sidney wants to return to her daughter, but she thinks Joe is dragging his feet. They end up in a different version of the farmhouse, in a different era, still empty but decorated with family portraits that may or may not be theirs.

What are these people up to? Are they in a post-apocalyptic America or fighting in a civil war? Tantalizing clues pop up: a Stonehenge-like chimney poking out of the ground. Visions of their mother. Joe and Sidney both have the same tattoo, a variation on the symbol for infinity. They consume copious amounts of booze left for them by their unseen hosts. They come upon a vintage cassette player through which they communicate with vaguely sinister voices. And soon, it’s clear they’re not alone. They’re being pursued and targeted.

Writer/director Michael Felker has created a fascinating puzzle of a film. His framing is precise and suspenseful. He has directed numerous shorts; this is his first feature. He and cinematographer Carissa Dorson up the sense of isolation by using sweeping Midwestern vistas of cornfields and open plains.

The film is produced by the prolific team of Aaron Moorhead and Justin Benson, who are known for Marvel properties and the moody and audacious 2018 film The Endless.

Things Will Be Different is minimalist in setting and budget but not in ambition. The payoff comes from the performances by Adam David Thompson (Joe) and Riley Dandy (Sidney). This is essentially a two-character piece (though Chloe Skoczen, Justin Benson, and Sarah Bolger are in effective minor roles), and both are riveting and act with conviction. Mr. Thompson has appeared in A Walk Among the Tombstones and Glass. Ms. Dandy starred in That’s Amor.

Things Will Be Different begins in medias res and stays there. All told, however, the time-traveling device is underused. The trailer hints at a zippy sci-fi á la The Butterfly Effect, and Things Will Be Different is not that. It’s moody and deliberate. It’s Primer crossed with The Road with a dash of Leave No Trace, and like those films, it lingers in the mind. It requires concentration and patience. It’s ultimately rewarding for the effort.

___________________________

Things Will Be Different. Directed by Michael Felker. 2024. On digital platforms. 102 minutes.

Add new comment

Women, In Chains, Talking

Chet Kozlowski — Sat, 09 Nov 2024 17:40:56 +0000

Women, In Chains, Talking Chet Kozlowski November 9, 2024 - 12:40

Topics

Film Review

Tags

horror

What accounts for the appeal of abduction movies? They can be seen as a graphic act of misogyny or, in the best case, an inspirational story of survival. Either way, the appeal, such as it is, is to imagine a woman being kidnapped and to witness her violation and suffering.

The news used to carry intermittent cases of men keeping a woman—or women—chained up in the basement. We were meant to react in horror, but the Abduction Narrative has become a sub-genre of the horror film, spawning novels and films like Room, the Don't Breathe franchise, the various motifs of M. Night Shyamalan movies (i.e., Split) and Netflix series like the current Dear Child. These Abduction Narratives are usually produced by men.

This makes Last Known Location an interesting anomaly since it was written and produced by a woman. Aimee Theresa and her partner Danny Donnelly put out genre films under their Silver Octopus Productions. Last Known Location is their most recent offering.

Three women from different backgrounds are kidnapped by a shadowy figure and chained to the wall of his basement. Callie (played by Ms. Theresa herself) is a shy English tutor, and Danay (Sophia Lucia Parola) is a high-end therapist. They’ll be joined mid-film by Marly (Jennifer M. Kay), a feisty bartender. The women test their shackles, fear their turn to be taken upstairs, and plot to escape.

And they talk. And they bond. Ms. Theresa's script brings that to the genre: she uses it as a springboard for backstories that underscore the women's personal stakes. Callie is gay and unlucky in love. Danay has abandonment issues with her single father. Marly has just turned her online romance into a real one but frets that it's not real enough for her new partner, Keith (Patrick Hickman), to read her disappearance as anything other than ghosting.

In a genre that runs on perversion and bloody violence, Last Known Location is uncharacteristically clean. There isn't much blood, and the brutality isn't explicit. The filmmakers' purpose is drama and character development, which the script accomplishes with sensitivity. Ms. Theresa's script is compelling, even if her version of police procedures and the resolution is a little too tidy. But kudos to her for writing fleshed-out characters who are not objectified and with whom we can sympathize.

While the storytelling is solid, the filmmaking falls short. Last Known Location resembles a TV movie. Actual locations, not sets, are used: a local bookstore and a generic office serve as a police station. The basement prison is minimalist: chains, mattresses, and toilet, too orderly and spread out to be the site of forced captivity (in the closing credits, one cast member is thanked for the use of "her home" as a film set). The direction is unimaginative; more creative camera angles and lighting would have created a visually claustrophobic frame that heightened tension.

The actors do uniformly fine work; they are skillful and convincing. Here, in the dialogue, director Danny Donnelly keeps their conversations flowing at an engaging pace. The principal performances are augmented by Jamie Kerezsi and Dax Richardson as detectives, and Keith Illidge as Danay's father in flashbacks. An IMDb search shows the cast is becoming a sort of stock ensemble, cross-pollinating by appearing in films like The Arrangement, several shorts, and the Tubi series Certifiable.

Silver Octopus Productions is one of several regional companies supplying VOD content. They're based in Pennsylvania and besides narrative films do corporate videos, etc. In a market of exploitation and low standards, Silver Octopus strives for quality and is one production house to keep an eye on.

Ultimately, what makes this abduction film special is its woman-centricity. It's a stretch to call it refreshing, given the genre (and one can only wonder why Silver Octopus chose to work in this one, except to draw flies). All told, Last Known Location isn't perfect, but it's sincere.

______________________________

Last Known Location. Directed by Danny Donnelly. 2024. From Silver Octopus Productions. Available on VOD. 114 minutes.

Add new comment

A Crime Spree Just Like Bonnie and…well, Bonnie

Chet Kozlowski — Fri, 08 Nov 2024 18:13:31 +0000

A Crime Spree Just Like Bonnie and…well, Bonnie Chet Kozlowski November 8, 2024 - 13:13

Topics

Film Review

Tags

satire

American Meltdown is a jaunty satire about the way some of us live now. Billed as a "millennial coming-of-rage," it centers on Olivia, a woman who just can't catch a break. She's let go from her job and forced into a "hiatus until I stop qualifying for benefits." After that indignity, she comes home to find her high-end apartment ransacked and herself without insurance and deep in debt (her ex left her with an extravagant lease). Paranoid and uncomfortable in her home, she goes off to the beach, where she meets a wily pickpocket named Mari.

Mari's a former lawyer ("People don't like me once they get to know me") who now runs scams. Mari lives in a van and has perfected the art of taking what she wants when she wants, from the pockets of unsuspecting marks, at the grocery store, and generally in life. Her mantra is, "Do you like your life?" If not, change it. Olivia is at first repelled, then warms to the idea. The straight life isn't working for her, so maybe Mari's path is the one to follow. She asks the other woman to move in with her for protection and because she’s intrigued.

What follows is a mini-crime spree, told in retrospect from Olivia’s police interrogation after the fact. She tearfully relates the circumstances of her downfall and the events that led up to it. Olivia at first sees them as a modern-day "Bonnie and…well, Bonnie," blazing a swatch of delinquency and stickin' it to the Man. Eventually, the cracks in Mari's tactics start to show. She seems less of a free spirit and more of a sociopath. "Your only move is to move," Olivia tells her. But then the real fun begins.

Jacki Von Preysing (Olivia) and Nicolette Sweeney (Mari) are fairly new to the scene and real comedy finds. Ms. Preysing's big eyes and angular features contrast well visually with Ms. Sweeney's more compact, scrappy look. They make an attractive team, have real comedic chops, and are backed by the likes of Clayton Farris as a predatory property manager and Shaun Boylan as a ditzy cop. Christopher Mycheal Watson and DeMorge Brown round out the cast as, respectively, Olivia's ex and her interrogating detective.

American Meltdown takes on the foibles of the system and is genuinely funny. Its script and direction are brisk and intelligent. Writer/director Andrew Adams knows to keep the stakes simple while containing echoes of bigger films. The women's trip to the Grand Canyon is meant to evoke Thelma and Louise, but the violence done in the finale is mostly to real estate. Still, this stylish faux feminist fantasy, Mr. Adams' first feature, is lively, has good jokes and a snappy montage, aided by cinematographer Mark Evans and editor Joshua Cole.

___________________________

American Meltdown. Directed by Andrew Adams. 2023. Available in select theaters and on VOD. 82 minutes.

Add new comment

Armand Assante: An Appreciation

Chet Kozlowski — Wed, 06 Nov 2024 02:45:39 +0000

Armand Assante: An Appreciation Chet Kozlowski November 5, 2024 - 21:45

Topics

Film Review

Tags

drama

Allow me a brief appreciation of Armand Assante. The occasion calls for it: the release of Don Q, a new film in which he stars.

Few actors command the screen, like Armand Assante. I’d seen him first in 1978’s Paradise Alley as Sylvester Stallone’s brother. I’m a fan and have been since I saw him in I, The Jury, the 1982 version of the Mickey Spillane novel directed by Larry Cohen. His chiseled features (in his advanced age, he looks to be carved out of granite) and his naturalistic delivery brought Mike Hammer explosively to life.

Mr. Assante would go on to make a mark in TV, winning a Best Actor Emmy for his lead in 1996’s Gotti, and starring as Odysseus in an ambitious 1997 miniseries of The Odyssey. Other notable parts and awards followed, but to my mind he hasn’t attained the household-name and leading man status he deserves.

Which is odd, because he rose in the era of The Tough Guy. He was tough and he had soul. He played Gotti and Napolean and Nietzsche and was a mob boss in Hoffa. He was in American Gangster and The Mambo Kings and Private Benjamin. He’s the son of an artist and a poet. Despite his Italian (and Irish) heritage, he’s hasn’t appeared in a Martin Scorsese picture.

I don’t know the man. I only have my perceptions to go on, and he’s always struck me as an actor apart for his dynamism, which radiates off him. I saw him in a restaurant in the Village once, and even while relaxing, his presence was palpable.

Which brings me to Don Q. I’ve been thinking a lot about why certain movies are made. I know, I know: the profit motive. But there are easier ways to make money. Making movies is hard work: it takes a skill for organization, it’s subject to the whims of many, and it always ends up revealing something about the filmmaker, even if it’s only to ask why they took on the project in the first place.

In Don Q, Mr. Assante plays Al Quinto, a man full of bonhomie and goodwill. He considers himself the unofficial Don of New York’s Little Italy. Everybody knows him and hails him. He does good. He advises the owners of local businesses. He saves a Chinatown waitress from a sinister pimp. He cracks down on marauding skateboarders. He mentors a Mafia wannabee.

It comes around to the fact that Al Quinto is delusional. He’s not a Don at all, but a Walter Mitty type. Don Q. is Don Quixote. Which in the right hands could be an interesting premise. Think Brando in The Freshman. He pulled that off without tarnishing his image.

Don Q is a disjointed and amateurish film. It’s a parody of Mafia pictures and TV shows (The Soprano’s own Big Pussy, Vincent Pastore, appears in a thankless part) without understanding what makes them work. Don Q. pores over books of Mafia lore and has a voluminous library of DVDs and records which he plays on a vintage Victrola (?). He lives in a fantasy world and is advised by the ghosts of cartoonish gangsters dressed in Zoot suits (!) He instigates confrontations and says things like “Oh, you got balls?” and then walks away. Through much of it he seems harmless, so it’s incongruous when characters come to violent and bloody ends.

Don Q has the feel of a cut-and-paste just-pals production. Much of the film is improvised but lacks the skill and trust that convincing improvisation requires. It’s billed as a comedy but isn’t funny. The only comic element I see is the occasional Road Runner swoosh on quick pans.

So one wonders why, at this stage of his career, Mr. Assante goes along with all this, and even takes a producer credit. The early scenes of Don Q carousing Little Italy and Chinatown have a certain charm that is undone by what comes after.

I almost didn’t write this review. I have a rule: don’t review anything I can’t say something nice about. But I wanted to pay tribute to an actor I respect. And anticipate that more, better film roles await him in the future. Put Don Q behind us. Let’s toast a unique and strong actor who doesn’t seem to know his own strength.

___________________________________________

Don Q, Directed by Claudio Bellante. 2024. From Archstone Entertainment. Available on VOD. 84 minutes.