Night of the Creeps (1986) is a gloriously campy zombie/creature mash-up from Fred Dekker, the director of the perennial kid favorite The Monster Squad (1987). This film is very self-aware, with tongue planted firmly in cheek. The movie features Jason Lively, who you'd likely recognize for his vague resemblance to a young Anthony Michael Hall, and hence his role as Rusty Griswold in National Lampoon's European Vacation (1985). It also features ruggedly handsome veteran character actor Tom Atkins as a police detective with a shady past caught up in the zombie invasion.
Chris (Lively) and J.C. (Steve Marshall) are a couple of college dweebs just looking for some fun and some girls (oh my!). When Chris falls head over heels for cute coed Cindy, he thinks the only way to win her attentions and affections is to rush a fraternity. Too bad Brad, the bleach blond stereotypical jerkface that heads the Beta frat house, also has his eye on Cindy. Brad sends Chris and J.C. out on an initiation he knows they'll never be able to pull off: steal a body from the university cryogenics lab and dump it at a rival frat house. Little do the dorks know that they are about to unleash upon campus the creeps, alien parasite slugs that infest the brain and turn their host into a walking corpse. When the creeps infest a busload of Beta brothers on their way to the big school dance, Chris and Cindy, along with Detective Cameron (Atkins) must find a way to defeat the creeps before it's too late!
Night of the Creeps is the epitome of fun and cheesy '80s horror. It's best viewed with a huge bowl of popcorn and a group of friends. MST3K-style jokes and shouting at the screen are encouraged. Tom Atkins as Detective Cameron steals the show. He's fucking AWESOME, strutting around, kicking ass and spouting pithy one-liners like he was Kurt Russell in Big Trouble in Little China. The film's monster/zombie effects are extremely cheese-tastical, but who cares? They're kind of supposed to be. And you know your movie is great when Peter Jackson, the one-time king of campy horror, borrows your lawnmower vs. zombie scene to use to legendary effect in his hilarious splatterfest Dead Alive (1992).
There's not much more to say. If you like campy movies, or the '80s, or both, check out Night of the Creeps. You won't be disappointed.
NOTE: Night of the Creeps is not currently available on DVD, but you can watch it for free for a limited time over at fearNET.com. The DVD is scheduled to be released this October.
Storyline & plot: 7/10
Cinematography & effects: 6/10
Music & mood: 7/10
Performances: 7/10
The Reverend says: 7/10
Saturday, May 30, 2009
Friday, May 29, 2009
Stalker
Stalker (1979) is the 8th film from famous Soviet filmmaker, Andrei Tarkovsky, who helmed the original Solaris (1972), a film that many hailed as Russia's answer to Stanley Kubrick's 2001: A Space Odyssey. I haven't seen Tarkovsky's Solaris, but Stalker sure bears a resemblance to 2001 in my book: it's so obtuse, complicated, and dense as to be virtually unwatchable.
The film opens in washed-out sepia on an unnamed city, the home of Stalker, a man with a very unusual profession. Stalker is one of only a handful of men with the skills, guts, and knowledge to serve as guide in the Zone, a mysterious and heavily guarded area formed by an equally mysterious apocalyptic disaster. The Zone is rumored to contain a magical room with the power to grant men their deepest desire, and so Stalker makes his living leading desperate men through the perils of the Zone to the holy grail that is the room.
Stalker's latest clients, Writer and Professor, are a failed novelist and a disgraced professor or physics. As they journey deep into the Zone in search of the room, Writer and Professor soon learn the perils of the Zone. The place seems to have a will of its own, and it is distrustful of outsiders. Failure to adhere to a very specific and complex protocol while traversing the Zone could likely result in death. The Zone rearranges itself periodically, and you can never go back the same way you came, or follow the same path twice. Will the three men survive to reach the room, and what will they find once they enter?
Something tells me this material worked much better in its original form, the novel Roadside Picnic by Boris and Arkady Strugatsky. But as a movie, there is just way way way too much exposition, too much talking and not enough doing. Tarkovsky takes Quentin Tarantino's penchant for heady exposition and random philosophical asides and raises it to the nth degree. And this carries on for almost 3 full hours! I guess the tendency for huge unassailable fiction in Russian culture extends to cinema as well as novels.
It was doubly disappointing because there were times that I had finally gotten into the movie, and some tension had built and it felt like maybe something cool was about to happen, but then Tarkovsky would go and ruin it again with another 5 minutes of random philosophical blathering. JUST SHUT THE FUCK UP ALREADY!
Honestly, I was confused for much of the film as to what in the hell was going on. The story slipped around in time and in and out of dreamlike sequences so abruptly that it was hard to follow the action (what little there was of it). I understand that there is a whole mountain of symbolism contained in this movie, most of it conveyed in the various highly-detailed sets, but it is much too subtle and I know much too little about Russian history and culture. It seems obvious that much of this film must be a commentary on Communism, but that's like saying that the ocean has fish. Technically true, but descriptively meaningless.
As for the Zone itself, the obvious corollaries are a nuclear blast zone, or more likely, given the setting and the time period, a nuclear meltdown, such as the one that took place near Chelyabinsk in 1957. The infamous disaster at Chernobyl would not take place for some 7 years after the release of the film, imbuing Stalker with an eerie prescience.
American science fiction author Samuel Delaney would employ a similar locale in his masterpiece, Dhalgren, published 3 years after Roadside Picnic but 5 years before the release of Stalker. In Dhalgren, the protagonist explores Bellona, the recombinant city, isolated from the world by a disaster of unknown origin. Within Bellona, the natural laws of physics and astronomy no longer apply; the city is sentient, and schizophrenic, and nothing is ever arranged in the same way twice.
Vincenzo Natali's Cube (1997) may also have been influenced by Tarkovsky's Zone. In the film, the eponymous cube is a similarly mysterious realm, full of traps, tricks, and recombinant rooms, making each journey into its depths a unique occurrence.
It is true that the cinematography and set design in Stalker are exquisite, some of the best I've ever seen. The movie is gorgeous, from the grainy and overexposed sepia used for shots outside the Zone, to the hypersaturated long shots bursting with color and meaning used to represent the Zone. The sets, particularly within the Zone, are painfully intricate. To say that this movie is visually beautiful would be an understatement. But alas, beauty does not a film make. In the end, I might recommend this film to a cinemaphile for the technical prowess alone, but the casual movie watcher would likely not enjoy it.
Storyline & plot: 4/10
Cinematography & effects: 9/10
Music & mood: 4/10
Performances: 5/10
The Reverend says: 5/10
The film opens in washed-out sepia on an unnamed city, the home of Stalker, a man with a very unusual profession. Stalker is one of only a handful of men with the skills, guts, and knowledge to serve as guide in the Zone, a mysterious and heavily guarded area formed by an equally mysterious apocalyptic disaster. The Zone is rumored to contain a magical room with the power to grant men their deepest desire, and so Stalker makes his living leading desperate men through the perils of the Zone to the holy grail that is the room.
Stalker's latest clients, Writer and Professor, are a failed novelist and a disgraced professor or physics. As they journey deep into the Zone in search of the room, Writer and Professor soon learn the perils of the Zone. The place seems to have a will of its own, and it is distrustful of outsiders. Failure to adhere to a very specific and complex protocol while traversing the Zone could likely result in death. The Zone rearranges itself periodically, and you can never go back the same way you came, or follow the same path twice. Will the three men survive to reach the room, and what will they find once they enter?
Something tells me this material worked much better in its original form, the novel Roadside Picnic by Boris and Arkady Strugatsky. But as a movie, there is just way way way too much exposition, too much talking and not enough doing. Tarkovsky takes Quentin Tarantino's penchant for heady exposition and random philosophical asides and raises it to the nth degree. And this carries on for almost 3 full hours! I guess the tendency for huge unassailable fiction in Russian culture extends to cinema as well as novels.
It was doubly disappointing because there were times that I had finally gotten into the movie, and some tension had built and it felt like maybe something cool was about to happen, but then Tarkovsky would go and ruin it again with another 5 minutes of random philosophical blathering. JUST SHUT THE FUCK UP ALREADY!
Honestly, I was confused for much of the film as to what in the hell was going on. The story slipped around in time and in and out of dreamlike sequences so abruptly that it was hard to follow the action (what little there was of it). I understand that there is a whole mountain of symbolism contained in this movie, most of it conveyed in the various highly-detailed sets, but it is much too subtle and I know much too little about Russian history and culture. It seems obvious that much of this film must be a commentary on Communism, but that's like saying that the ocean has fish. Technically true, but descriptively meaningless.
As for the Zone itself, the obvious corollaries are a nuclear blast zone, or more likely, given the setting and the time period, a nuclear meltdown, such as the one that took place near Chelyabinsk in 1957. The infamous disaster at Chernobyl would not take place for some 7 years after the release of the film, imbuing Stalker with an eerie prescience.
American science fiction author Samuel Delaney would employ a similar locale in his masterpiece, Dhalgren, published 3 years after Roadside Picnic but 5 years before the release of Stalker. In Dhalgren, the protagonist explores Bellona, the recombinant city, isolated from the world by a disaster of unknown origin. Within Bellona, the natural laws of physics and astronomy no longer apply; the city is sentient, and schizophrenic, and nothing is ever arranged in the same way twice.
Vincenzo Natali's Cube (1997) may also have been influenced by Tarkovsky's Zone. In the film, the eponymous cube is a similarly mysterious realm, full of traps, tricks, and recombinant rooms, making each journey into its depths a unique occurrence.
It is true that the cinematography and set design in Stalker are exquisite, some of the best I've ever seen. The movie is gorgeous, from the grainy and overexposed sepia used for shots outside the Zone, to the hypersaturated long shots bursting with color and meaning used to represent the Zone. The sets, particularly within the Zone, are painfully intricate. To say that this movie is visually beautiful would be an understatement. But alas, beauty does not a film make. In the end, I might recommend this film to a cinemaphile for the technical prowess alone, but the casual movie watcher would likely not enjoy it.
Storyline & plot: 4/10
Cinematography & effects: 9/10
Music & mood: 4/10
Performances: 5/10
The Reverend says: 5/10
Thursday, May 28, 2009
Vanishing Point
Vanishing Point (1971), Richard Sarafian's now legendary attempt to cash in on the '70s muscle-car movement and the success of 1968's chase-heavy Bullitt, occupies a narrow and magical little niche at the intersection of grindhouse and car-chase. And for a grindhouse movie, notoriously cheap, vulgar, and shocking, Vanishing Point stands out fairly tame and intelligent. You know, for a car-chase movie. That doesn't mean that there aren't some seriously distressing gaps in logic (more on those later), but that the movie says a lot more about society than your typical grindhouse fare.
The film's premise is pretty simple, as these films tend to go. A man known only as Kowalski, a former police detective turned race driver turned pseudo-hippie burnout, must deliver a white 1970 Dodge Challenger to its new owner. The only problem is Kowalski's in Denver, the new owner's in San Francisco, and the clock is ticking on the appointed delivery time: 15 hours and counting. Now Kowalski races across the intervening miles like a man possessed, a speed demon bent on victory or destruction, and nothing in between. Along the way, Kowalski meets up with friend and foe alike, including a naked biker chick, a pair of gay carjackers, a snake-trapping desert dweller, and a vicious and racist Nevada cop. Kowalski drives to the beat of a soundtrack that positively crackles with '70s soul, funk, and rock rhythms, with some down home banjo pickin' thrown in for good measure. And his guide, and our narrator by proxy: Super Soul, the hip blind DJ that spins the records over the airwaves from some nameless desert town.
A warning: don't try to think too deeply about the plot; it'll hurt your brain. To wit: Kowalski doesn't have to be in San Francisco til Monday morning, but yet he insists on getting there by Sunday. Why? Who knows? To elevate the tension, I suppose. But why not just make the real deadline whatever you want it to be? Why the clunky extra step? And so Kowalski's gonna push the issue and deliver unto this guy a car that has just been driven like mad and crashed and gone over jumps and has probably taken a pretty serious beating, and on top of that is now forfeit to the police as evidence used in the commission of a buttload of crimes? Yeah, that makes total sense. Oh wait, I remember now why he has to get to San Fran by Sunday: he made a bet with his drug dealer that he could do it. Wait wait wait. You're gonna risk life, limb, and some serious jailtime just to win a bet constituting the price of a couple of caps of speed??? Seriously? WTF?
Sins of scripting aside, Vanishing Point is pretty solid. It has great effects, exciting car chases, and a blistering pace that can't be beat. And the two main actors are actually quite phenomenal. Super Soul (Cleavon Little) fills up the void with his socially-conscious sing-song jive, while Kowalski (Barry Newman) broods silently and chews up scenery, barely uttering 20 words all movie.
Vanishing Point is bursting with social and political commentary. Super Soul uses his access to the radio waves and a police scanner to throw down some serious spin, painting Kowalski as an epic counter-culture hero, driven to the brink by "the man" and mercilessly pursued for paltry crimes. The entire American West is transformed into a battleground, a political proving ground. The underdog Kowalski, representing freedom and the human spirit vs. the police, representing, well, the establishment. Kowalski's car becomes his hammer of freedom, his escape hatch. In the end, he not only drives a Challenger, he is "The Challenger."
Vanishing Point's influence on cinema is considerable. It spawned an explosion of car-chase movies, exemplified by Smokey and the Bandit (1977) and Cannonball Run (1981). Years later, Quentin Tarantino exposed a whole new generation to Vanishing Point with the car-centered action/horror film Deathproof (2007), that payed homage to Vanishing Point with direct references and a replica 1970 Dodge Challenger.
Storyline & plot: 5/10
Cinematography & effects: 7/10
Music & mood: 10/10
Performances: 8/10
The Reverend says: 7/10
The film's premise is pretty simple, as these films tend to go. A man known only as Kowalski, a former police detective turned race driver turned pseudo-hippie burnout, must deliver a white 1970 Dodge Challenger to its new owner. The only problem is Kowalski's in Denver, the new owner's in San Francisco, and the clock is ticking on the appointed delivery time: 15 hours and counting. Now Kowalski races across the intervening miles like a man possessed, a speed demon bent on victory or destruction, and nothing in between. Along the way, Kowalski meets up with friend and foe alike, including a naked biker chick, a pair of gay carjackers, a snake-trapping desert dweller, and a vicious and racist Nevada cop. Kowalski drives to the beat of a soundtrack that positively crackles with '70s soul, funk, and rock rhythms, with some down home banjo pickin' thrown in for good measure. And his guide, and our narrator by proxy: Super Soul, the hip blind DJ that spins the records over the airwaves from some nameless desert town.
A warning: don't try to think too deeply about the plot; it'll hurt your brain. To wit: Kowalski doesn't have to be in San Francisco til Monday morning, but yet he insists on getting there by Sunday. Why? Who knows? To elevate the tension, I suppose. But why not just make the real deadline whatever you want it to be? Why the clunky extra step? And so Kowalski's gonna push the issue and deliver unto this guy a car that has just been driven like mad and crashed and gone over jumps and has probably taken a pretty serious beating, and on top of that is now forfeit to the police as evidence used in the commission of a buttload of crimes? Yeah, that makes total sense. Oh wait, I remember now why he has to get to San Fran by Sunday: he made a bet with his drug dealer that he could do it. Wait wait wait. You're gonna risk life, limb, and some serious jailtime just to win a bet constituting the price of a couple of caps of speed??? Seriously? WTF?
Sins of scripting aside, Vanishing Point is pretty solid. It has great effects, exciting car chases, and a blistering pace that can't be beat. And the two main actors are actually quite phenomenal. Super Soul (Cleavon Little) fills up the void with his socially-conscious sing-song jive, while Kowalski (Barry Newman) broods silently and chews up scenery, barely uttering 20 words all movie.
Vanishing Point is bursting with social and political commentary. Super Soul uses his access to the radio waves and a police scanner to throw down some serious spin, painting Kowalski as an epic counter-culture hero, driven to the brink by "the man" and mercilessly pursued for paltry crimes. The entire American West is transformed into a battleground, a political proving ground. The underdog Kowalski, representing freedom and the human spirit vs. the police, representing, well, the establishment. Kowalski's car becomes his hammer of freedom, his escape hatch. In the end, he not only drives a Challenger, he is "The Challenger."
Vanishing Point's influence on cinema is considerable. It spawned an explosion of car-chase movies, exemplified by Smokey and the Bandit (1977) and Cannonball Run (1981). Years later, Quentin Tarantino exposed a whole new generation to Vanishing Point with the car-centered action/horror film Deathproof (2007), that payed homage to Vanishing Point with direct references and a replica 1970 Dodge Challenger.
Storyline & plot: 5/10
Cinematography & effects: 7/10
Music & mood: 10/10
Performances: 8/10
The Reverend says: 7/10
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
The Fearless Vampire Killers
Roman Polanski's The Fearless Vampire Killers (1967) is an extremely fun screwball horror satire. Known as Dance of the Vampires in Europe, the film features Irish stage legend Jack MacGowran as the goofily Einstein-esque Professor Abronsius, scholar and hunter of vampires. Apprenticed to Abronsius is the naive and cowardly Alfred, played by Polanski himself. Joining MacGowran and Polanski is a young and beautiful up-and-comer by the name of Sharon Tate as the damsel in distress and Alfred's love interest.
Tate had acted here and there in small bits on TV and film, including a recurring role on "The Beverly Hillbillies". Later in 1967, she would go on to critical acclaim and a Golden Globe nomination for her portrayal of Jennifer North in Valley of the Dolls, Mark Robson's look inside the world of women in showbiz. Tate met and fell in love with Roman Polanski on the set of FVK. Within a year, they would be married. Within two, she would be dead, murdered at the hands of the Manson Family in Beverly Hills, CA.
But back to the movie. We follow Professor Abronsius and Alfred on the trail of a coven of vampires in the heart of Transylvania. While holed up in the local inn, the vampire hunters come under attack from fiends of the night, led by Count von Krolock. While Abronsius and Alfred manage to repel the attack, the innkeeper is bitten and his beautiful daughter is dragged away to the Count's castle to take part in an arcane ceremony of the undead. Unfortunately for her, it's up to tweedle-dee and tweedle-dum to rescue her. Abronsius and Alfred head to the castle to meet up with a heady mix of menace and hilarity, including a shuffling hunchback, the Count's gay vampire son (or a "sensitive boy," as he puts it), and an expertly choreographed ballroom dance of the undead.
The Fearless Vampire Killers is high-energy, hilarious horror adventure. The original score by Krysztof Komeda is a beautiful and haunting mix of chants and arias. Costume designer Wilfred Shingleton shows off his skills at the undead ball, outfitting close to a hundred vampires in period dress, complete with the wear and tear of the grave. The extended ball scene is masterfully choreographed by Tutte Lemkow, incorporating Alfred and Abronsius's clumsy attempts to clandestinely infiltrate the dance while never losing a beat on the complex dance moves.
I highly recommend this one. It's classic, it's funny, and it'll keep you entertained from the very first. Watch it in a group or by yourself. Grab a bag of popcorn, turn out the lights, and pop it in the player. Have fun.
Storyline & plot: 7/10
Cinematography & effects: 6/10
Music & mood: 9/10
Performances: 8/10
The Reverend says: 8/10
Tate had acted here and there in small bits on TV and film, including a recurring role on "The Beverly Hillbillies". Later in 1967, she would go on to critical acclaim and a Golden Globe nomination for her portrayal of Jennifer North in Valley of the Dolls, Mark Robson's look inside the world of women in showbiz. Tate met and fell in love with Roman Polanski on the set of FVK. Within a year, they would be married. Within two, she would be dead, murdered at the hands of the Manson Family in Beverly Hills, CA.
But back to the movie. We follow Professor Abronsius and Alfred on the trail of a coven of vampires in the heart of Transylvania. While holed up in the local inn, the vampire hunters come under attack from fiends of the night, led by Count von Krolock. While Abronsius and Alfred manage to repel the attack, the innkeeper is bitten and his beautiful daughter is dragged away to the Count's castle to take part in an arcane ceremony of the undead. Unfortunately for her, it's up to tweedle-dee and tweedle-dum to rescue her. Abronsius and Alfred head to the castle to meet up with a heady mix of menace and hilarity, including a shuffling hunchback, the Count's gay vampire son (or a "sensitive boy," as he puts it), and an expertly choreographed ballroom dance of the undead.
The Fearless Vampire Killers is high-energy, hilarious horror adventure. The original score by Krysztof Komeda is a beautiful and haunting mix of chants and arias. Costume designer Wilfred Shingleton shows off his skills at the undead ball, outfitting close to a hundred vampires in period dress, complete with the wear and tear of the grave. The extended ball scene is masterfully choreographed by Tutte Lemkow, incorporating Alfred and Abronsius's clumsy attempts to clandestinely infiltrate the dance while never losing a beat on the complex dance moves.
I highly recommend this one. It's classic, it's funny, and it'll keep you entertained from the very first. Watch it in a group or by yourself. Grab a bag of popcorn, turn out the lights, and pop it in the player. Have fun.
Storyline & plot: 7/10
Cinematography & effects: 6/10
Music & mood: 9/10
Performances: 8/10
The Reverend says: 8/10
Sunday, May 24, 2009
Viridiana
By 1961, Luis Buñuel had long since outgrown the surrealist cinema that had made him an instant success starting with his collaboration with Salvador Dali on 1929's Un Chien Andalou. What Buñuel hadn't given up was a lifelong obsession with religion. Brought up in the Catholic faith but a self-avowed atheist all his adult life, Buñuel infused all his films with a subversive nature, both chastizing and satirizing Catholicism. Viridiana (1961) was Buñuel's very brief triumphant return to Spain, but marked his not-so-brief triumphant return to the world cinema scene. By 1940, he had dropped out of moviemaking entirely, working in exile in the United States as chief writing editor at the Museum of Modern Art in New York. Immigrating to Mexico in the late 1940s, Buñuel returned to cinema, but toiled in obscurity with low budget films for over a decade. In an attempt to promote Spanish cultural heritage, Spain's dictator Francisco Franco invited Buñuel back to his homeland to make films. Buñuel had not set foot on Spanish soil for 22 years. Only one film ever emerged from this bizarre collaboration, but it would be the beginning of Buñuel's greatest artistic period that would confirm him as one of the most important directors in the world. That film was Viridiana.
Viridiana, pure and simple, is a powerful and extended exploration of the overwhelming cruelty of the world and the inability of religion, particularly Catholicism, to affect any significant change. The story follows the titular character, who on the eve of taking her monastic vows, is called away to visit her dying uncle at his estate. Here Viridiana, an obvious metaphor for the Virgin Mary, enters into a maelstrom of spiritual, emotional, and physical violence, beset on all sides by the evil of men.
After enduring emotional trauma at the hands of her sexually deviant uncle Don Jaime, Viridiana relinquishes her position as acolyte. When Jaime dies, Viridiana entertains a brief hope that her troubles may be over. But Jaime is only replaced by his cruel and misogynistic son Jorge. Viridiana retreats into her work, establishing a home for 12 beggars that she rounds up in town. With her band of merry beggars, Viridiana is transformed from Mary into Jesus, shepherding her apostles (there is even a very un-subtle "last supper" scene). But as a final insult, Viridiana's beggars turn upon her and repay her kindness with destruction and violence.
On a technical level, Viridiana is excellently crafted. Cinematographer Jose Aguayo makes great use of light and shadow, drawing attention to the contrast between characters. The black and white film is crisp, never blurred or softened. Buñuel and Aguayo team up with Aurelio Tijeras in the sound department to create a film that is devastatingly bleak, with mocking undertones of false piety.
Viridiana is Buñuel's scathing commentary on the nature of religious charity. The title character, an ex-nun trying to do right in a world full of evil, ultimately has no effect on her sexually perverted uncle, her brutal and sexist cousin, or the violently ungrateful band of beggars she adopts. In the end, she numbly succumbs to the cruel world, realizing her efforts have been and will always be fruitless. No wonder this film was banned in its native Spain and summarily denounced by the Vatican.
Storyline & plot: 7/10
Cinematography & effects: 8/10
Music & mood: 7/10
Performances: 7/10
The Reverend says: 7/10
Viridiana, pure and simple, is a powerful and extended exploration of the overwhelming cruelty of the world and the inability of religion, particularly Catholicism, to affect any significant change. The story follows the titular character, who on the eve of taking her monastic vows, is called away to visit her dying uncle at his estate. Here Viridiana, an obvious metaphor for the Virgin Mary, enters into a maelstrom of spiritual, emotional, and physical violence, beset on all sides by the evil of men.
After enduring emotional trauma at the hands of her sexually deviant uncle Don Jaime, Viridiana relinquishes her position as acolyte. When Jaime dies, Viridiana entertains a brief hope that her troubles may be over. But Jaime is only replaced by his cruel and misogynistic son Jorge. Viridiana retreats into her work, establishing a home for 12 beggars that she rounds up in town. With her band of merry beggars, Viridiana is transformed from Mary into Jesus, shepherding her apostles (there is even a very un-subtle "last supper" scene). But as a final insult, Viridiana's beggars turn upon her and repay her kindness with destruction and violence.
On a technical level, Viridiana is excellently crafted. Cinematographer Jose Aguayo makes great use of light and shadow, drawing attention to the contrast between characters. The black and white film is crisp, never blurred or softened. Buñuel and Aguayo team up with Aurelio Tijeras in the sound department to create a film that is devastatingly bleak, with mocking undertones of false piety.
Viridiana is Buñuel's scathing commentary on the nature of religious charity. The title character, an ex-nun trying to do right in a world full of evil, ultimately has no effect on her sexually perverted uncle, her brutal and sexist cousin, or the violently ungrateful band of beggars she adopts. In the end, she numbly succumbs to the cruel world, realizing her efforts have been and will always be fruitless. No wonder this film was banned in its native Spain and summarily denounced by the Vatican.
Storyline & plot: 7/10
Cinematography & effects: 8/10
Music & mood: 7/10
Performances: 7/10
The Reverend says: 7/10
Splinter
I am not usually a fan of creature horror. It's typically at the bottom of my list of cherished horror subgenres. But once in a while, a movie comes along that changes that, at least temporarily. The greatest of these is John Carpenter's The Thing (1982), which remains one of the best and most beloved sci-fi/horror movies of all time. Another fairly good one is Leviathan, one of two deep-sea creaturefests from 1989 (the other being Deep Star Six, also enjoyable). Echoes of Leviathan and The Thing permeate Splinter (2008), although the films are quite distinct in most respects. But all three films employ a limited environment to escalate the tension and create a stifling sense of paranoia and claustrophobia. The most significant similarity between Splinter and its predecessors is in creature design. The three films each make use of an "amalgamated creature," though the method of amalgamation is unique in each one. While the creature from The Thing uses mimicry, the Leviathan monster uses absorption, and the Splinter creature uses simple mechanical fusion.
Splinter opens on the back roads of Oklahoma, following young couple Seth (Paulo Costanzo) and Polly (Jill Wagner), out on the weekend for some camping. But their outdoor vacation gets derailed when they run afoul of Dennis (Shea Whigham) and Lacey (Rachel Kerbs), on the run from the law and looking for a ride. But the real ordeal starts when they stop for gas. The service station becomes a haven when the two couples are beseiged by a parasitic mold that consumes blood and, like a puppeteer, uses the remaining living tissue for mobility.
Splinter is not a particularly great movie. The plot and dialogue are formulaic at best and hackneyed at worst. The conventions are laughably predictable. Turns out, Seth has a PhD in biology and figures out the biomechanics of the splinter creature. Well, isn't that convenient. And of course there's a tough guy with a heart of gold who just wants to do right by his junkie girlfriend and to lay the demons of the past to rest. How heartwarming. And of course, the film wouldn't be complete without a cop who falls prey to the creature because she didn't heed the warnings from Seth and Dennis. And who could forget the use of gratuitous explosions? That always helps with a subpar script. And don't even get me started with Seth's brilliant (read: terrible) idea for evading the monster. On top of this, the music is forgettable and the acting is stilted and strained.
Ok, so Splinter is by no means a great movie. But its not bad either, and I have to give it credit in the area of make-up and creature effects, because that is where this movie excels. The splinter creature really comes alive, and the mechanics involved are quite unique. The secret is not advanced CGI, which frankly never seems to work all that well, nor is it puppetry, which looks a lot better and is what I had expected. Nope. The secret to the splinter monster is a very flexible gymnast. The film's director hired a local gymnast and asked him to create a themed set of movements for the splinter creature. What emerged was a surprisingly effective mix of floor gymnastics, interpretive dance, and animal mimicry. So, add a pretty good make-up and prosthetics team to this gymnast's choreography, and you have one of the more exciting and believable monsters in recent years.
Storyline & plot: 3/10
Cinematography & effects: 9/10
Music & mood: 5/10
Performances: 4/10
The Reverend says: 5/10
Splinter opens on the back roads of Oklahoma, following young couple Seth (Paulo Costanzo) and Polly (Jill Wagner), out on the weekend for some camping. But their outdoor vacation gets derailed when they run afoul of Dennis (Shea Whigham) and Lacey (Rachel Kerbs), on the run from the law and looking for a ride. But the real ordeal starts when they stop for gas. The service station becomes a haven when the two couples are beseiged by a parasitic mold that consumes blood and, like a puppeteer, uses the remaining living tissue for mobility.
Splinter is not a particularly great movie. The plot and dialogue are formulaic at best and hackneyed at worst. The conventions are laughably predictable. Turns out, Seth has a PhD in biology and figures out the biomechanics of the splinter creature. Well, isn't that convenient. And of course there's a tough guy with a heart of gold who just wants to do right by his junkie girlfriend and to lay the demons of the past to rest. How heartwarming. And of course, the film wouldn't be complete without a cop who falls prey to the creature because she didn't heed the warnings from Seth and Dennis. And who could forget the use of gratuitous explosions? That always helps with a subpar script. And don't even get me started with Seth's brilliant (read: terrible) idea for evading the monster. On top of this, the music is forgettable and the acting is stilted and strained.
Ok, so Splinter is by no means a great movie. But its not bad either, and I have to give it credit in the area of make-up and creature effects, because that is where this movie excels. The splinter creature really comes alive, and the mechanics involved are quite unique. The secret is not advanced CGI, which frankly never seems to work all that well, nor is it puppetry, which looks a lot better and is what I had expected. Nope. The secret to the splinter monster is a very flexible gymnast. The film's director hired a local gymnast and asked him to create a themed set of movements for the splinter creature. What emerged was a surprisingly effective mix of floor gymnastics, interpretive dance, and animal mimicry. So, add a pretty good make-up and prosthetics team to this gymnast's choreography, and you have one of the more exciting and believable monsters in recent years.
Storyline & plot: 3/10
Cinematography & effects: 9/10
Music & mood: 5/10
Performances: 4/10
The Reverend says: 5/10
Thursday, May 21, 2009
Red
Red (1994) marks the close of Polish filmmaker Krysztof Kieslowski's acclaimed Three Colors trilogy. The first two films, Blue (1993) and White (1994), explored the themes of freedom and equality, respectively. With Red, Kieslowski turns his keen artist's eye on the topic of brotherhood. Although I did not enjoy this film as much as the previous two, upon reflection, I see that it is perhaps the deepest and most complex of the trilogy. Kieslowski packs every frame, every expression, every utterance, each and every character's actions and motivations with luminous volumes of meaning. Kieslowski's characters are some of the most fully realized and lovingly rendered in film history. There is always one more layer, one more angle, one more aspect that you've yet to see. In Red's complexities, in its overwhelming artistic rendering, in its heartbreak of tragic loss and eventual hope, Kieslowski solidifies his spot amongst the most important directors of all time.
Red's premise is simple enough: an accident brings together the lives and destinies of Valentine, a Swiss model dealing with troubling family issues, and a man known only as "the judge," a retired judge for the Swiss courts. Valentine soon discovers the judge's nasty habit: using a specialized antenna, he spies on the phone conversations of his neighbors. Surmising the judge's crimes arise from the bitterness and disgust he feels at his own life, Valentine decides to befriend the man instead of spurning him. While Valentine and the judge deal with their own personal demons of alienation, Kieslowski introduces the story of Auguste, a young judge whose life eerily mirrors that of his elder counterpart, and whose own trajectory has brought him within orbit of Valentine.
Red is a study in the intersections of destiny, and of fraternity, of human compassion. It is a chronicle of the need to connect to someone, to anyone, even when traditional means of connection are blocked or exhausted. Valentine is geographically and emotionally isolated. She has withdrawn from the problems of her mother and brother living in France and she is kept on an emotional leash by her traveling businessman boyfriend.
The judge is equally isolated. A life of judging others has led to a harsh judgment upon himself. He is embittered with the feeling of a wasted life, and now reaches out only parasitically to leech the emotions of others through their phone calls. But when chance brings Valentine into his life, the judge has enough sense to recognize her as his last chance to lead a meaningful life, even if he is slow to accept her friendship.
The most overwhelming sense you get from Kieslowski's film is that it is dealing with real people. This is how real people live. They are complex. They are not always nice, and sometimes they're downright destructive. But even destructive people can change. They can have hope. They can be both terrible and wonderful.
Kieslowski also incorporates an intriguing aspect of deus ex machina. One gets the sense that the old judge is at least in part autobiographical, that Kieslowski has written himself into his last film as an ultimate coup de grace. The judge definitely has an aspect of the supernatural about him. There is Auguste, obviously the judge's doppleganger separated by 30 years. And the judge seems to exhibit some mysterious god-like powers: prophecy, precognition, and the ability to influence future events.
For Red, Kieslowski has once again teamed up with Zbigniew Preisner, who created the thrilling and haunting score from Blue. Preisner's role in Red is much more understated, the music never rising from the background. But the subdued score is still masterfully done. Cinematographer Piotr Sobocinski has taken a cue from Blue's cinematographer Slowomir Idziak. Sobocinski employs the same ubiquitous use of intense color to set the stage for Kieslowski's artisitic vision.
Red is a worthy endpiece to Three Colors. Where Blue and White explore qualities that people only think they want until they actually have them, Red completes the circle with fraternity, a quality that people need even when they think they don't.
Storyline & plot: 8/10
Cinematography & effects: 9/10
Music & mood: 6/10
Performances: 9/10
The Reverend says: 8/10
Red's premise is simple enough: an accident brings together the lives and destinies of Valentine, a Swiss model dealing with troubling family issues, and a man known only as "the judge," a retired judge for the Swiss courts. Valentine soon discovers the judge's nasty habit: using a specialized antenna, he spies on the phone conversations of his neighbors. Surmising the judge's crimes arise from the bitterness and disgust he feels at his own life, Valentine decides to befriend the man instead of spurning him. While Valentine and the judge deal with their own personal demons of alienation, Kieslowski introduces the story of Auguste, a young judge whose life eerily mirrors that of his elder counterpart, and whose own trajectory has brought him within orbit of Valentine.
Red is a study in the intersections of destiny, and of fraternity, of human compassion. It is a chronicle of the need to connect to someone, to anyone, even when traditional means of connection are blocked or exhausted. Valentine is geographically and emotionally isolated. She has withdrawn from the problems of her mother and brother living in France and she is kept on an emotional leash by her traveling businessman boyfriend.
The judge is equally isolated. A life of judging others has led to a harsh judgment upon himself. He is embittered with the feeling of a wasted life, and now reaches out only parasitically to leech the emotions of others through their phone calls. But when chance brings Valentine into his life, the judge has enough sense to recognize her as his last chance to lead a meaningful life, even if he is slow to accept her friendship.
The most overwhelming sense you get from Kieslowski's film is that it is dealing with real people. This is how real people live. They are complex. They are not always nice, and sometimes they're downright destructive. But even destructive people can change. They can have hope. They can be both terrible and wonderful.
Kieslowski also incorporates an intriguing aspect of deus ex machina. One gets the sense that the old judge is at least in part autobiographical, that Kieslowski has written himself into his last film as an ultimate coup de grace. The judge definitely has an aspect of the supernatural about him. There is Auguste, obviously the judge's doppleganger separated by 30 years. And the judge seems to exhibit some mysterious god-like powers: prophecy, precognition, and the ability to influence future events.
For Red, Kieslowski has once again teamed up with Zbigniew Preisner, who created the thrilling and haunting score from Blue. Preisner's role in Red is much more understated, the music never rising from the background. But the subdued score is still masterfully done. Cinematographer Piotr Sobocinski has taken a cue from Blue's cinematographer Slowomir Idziak. Sobocinski employs the same ubiquitous use of intense color to set the stage for Kieslowski's artisitic vision.
Red is a worthy endpiece to Three Colors. Where Blue and White explore qualities that people only think they want until they actually have them, Red completes the circle with fraternity, a quality that people need even when they think they don't.
Storyline & plot: 8/10
Cinematography & effects: 9/10
Music & mood: 6/10
Performances: 9/10
The Reverend says: 8/10
Private Parts
Private Parts (1972) joins Lucio Fulci's Zombie (1979), Legend of Hell House (1973), and Horror Express (1973), among others, as another one of those lost horror gems of the '70s. Private Parts is a strange movie indeed. One part Psycho, one part Rocky Horror Picture Show, with a heaping of creepy southern gothic, all set against the backdrop of a hippie-infested Los Angeles.
Cheryl Stratton (Ayn Ruymen), a homeless runaway hippie, seeks out her distant Aunt Martha, the owner/operator of the rundown King Edward Hotel in L.A. Martha begrudgingly agrees to put Cheryl up in the hotel for awhile until she gets back on her feet. Cheryl settles in and soon discovers she shares the King Edward with a veritable circus of strange, including a closeted gay "priest" (it's unclear whether he's actually a priest or just likes to dress like one), a perpetually drunk old man, a tanning-obsessed crazy old lady, and George, an attractive but creepily voyeuristic young photographer.
Soon, a string of grisly killings within the walls of the King Edward lead Cheryl to start asking questions. What she finds is that the hotel residents are all hiding something about Alice, the girl who previously inhabited Cheryl's room and who disappeared without a trace. Why is Aunt Martha so obsessed with funerals? And why does she limit Cheryl's movements in the hotel? And why does George sleep with a blow-up doll that bears a remarkable resemblance to Cheryl? What are those noises outside Cheryl's room at night? And who exactly is spying on her, leaving her cryptic messages?
While Private Parts is not particularly scary, it can be very jarring in its twisted sexual imagery. In the end, what will stand out most about this film is the ambiguity of its message. Is it an elaborate warning against rampant and "unnatural" sexuality? Is it more broadly aimed at hippie counter-culture in general? Or is it a twisted celebration of all things perverse and depraved? For me, it's impossible to discern, especially in light of the short careers of the principle writers and director. No one attached to this movie had a stable career in film before or after Private Parts. Even the actors were rarely seen again, dropping off the scene entirely or retreating to the dreaded realm of television movies and bit parts in short-lived TV series.
In some ways, Private Parts is indistinguishable from a cadre of similar films, reactions to the extreme cultural upheaval of the 1960s, using extreme violence and sex to say something about a time in history where the rules of violence and sex suddenly changed drastically. But unlike so many others, the message in Private Parts is ambiguous. The morality doesn't hit you over the head. I take that back. The morality hits you over the head, but from all sides, so you are left bewildered.
Storyline & plot: 7/10
Cinematography & effects: 8/10
Music & mood: 6/10
Performances: 7/10
The Reverend says: 7/10
Cheryl Stratton (Ayn Ruymen), a homeless runaway hippie, seeks out her distant Aunt Martha, the owner/operator of the rundown King Edward Hotel in L.A. Martha begrudgingly agrees to put Cheryl up in the hotel for awhile until she gets back on her feet. Cheryl settles in and soon discovers she shares the King Edward with a veritable circus of strange, including a closeted gay "priest" (it's unclear whether he's actually a priest or just likes to dress like one), a perpetually drunk old man, a tanning-obsessed crazy old lady, and George, an attractive but creepily voyeuristic young photographer.
Soon, a string of grisly killings within the walls of the King Edward lead Cheryl to start asking questions. What she finds is that the hotel residents are all hiding something about Alice, the girl who previously inhabited Cheryl's room and who disappeared without a trace. Why is Aunt Martha so obsessed with funerals? And why does she limit Cheryl's movements in the hotel? And why does George sleep with a blow-up doll that bears a remarkable resemblance to Cheryl? What are those noises outside Cheryl's room at night? And who exactly is spying on her, leaving her cryptic messages?
While Private Parts is not particularly scary, it can be very jarring in its twisted sexual imagery. In the end, what will stand out most about this film is the ambiguity of its message. Is it an elaborate warning against rampant and "unnatural" sexuality? Is it more broadly aimed at hippie counter-culture in general? Or is it a twisted celebration of all things perverse and depraved? For me, it's impossible to discern, especially in light of the short careers of the principle writers and director. No one attached to this movie had a stable career in film before or after Private Parts. Even the actors were rarely seen again, dropping off the scene entirely or retreating to the dreaded realm of television movies and bit parts in short-lived TV series.
In some ways, Private Parts is indistinguishable from a cadre of similar films, reactions to the extreme cultural upheaval of the 1960s, using extreme violence and sex to say something about a time in history where the rules of violence and sex suddenly changed drastically. But unlike so many others, the message in Private Parts is ambiguous. The morality doesn't hit you over the head. I take that back. The morality hits you over the head, but from all sides, so you are left bewildered.
Storyline & plot: 7/10
Cinematography & effects: 8/10
Music & mood: 6/10
Performances: 7/10
The Reverend says: 7/10
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
Bay of Blood
Wow. The influence of this film on horror cinema history is HUGE, and I, like many others, had never really heard of it. Helmed in 1971 by Italian giallo legend Mario Bava, Bay of Blood (alternately known as Chain Reaction, Bloodbath, and the intriguingly esoteric Twitch of the Death Nerve) is the father of the heyday of slasher films in the late '70s and '80s, and by extension, the grandfather of the modern slasher. Bay of Blood lays almost all the groundwork in its modest 84 minutes: isolated & wooded location, stupid horny teenagers to serve as the blood sacrifice, killer POV, an assortment of weapons, gore galore, an intense, catchy, and hypnotic score, and a twist ending.
For a lifelong slasher fan like myself, it was amazing to see all the elements assembled in one film at such an early time. Of course, elements of the slasher genre had been established previously, from Psycho's (1960) throbbing score, shower scene, and mentally unstable killer; to the gore and brilliant plot twists of fellow Italian auteur Dario Argento's debut, Bird with the Crystal Plumage (1970); to Dementia 13 (1963), Francis Ford Coppola's debut tale of family revenge, twisted southern gothic style. But Bay of Blood assembles all the popular tropes and flash-fries them into our collective cultural brain, a full year before the first American "slasher", Clive Barker's Last House on the Left (although I for one would very much beg to differ about LHotL's slasher status). Bay of Blood also has 3 years on 1974's Black Christmas, a film which definitely qualifies as an early slasher (and which, I might add, is one of the creepiest, scariest movies you will ever see). It would not be until 1978 that John Carpenter brought slashers to the mainstream with Halloween, and 2 more years until the subgenre exploded with Friday the 13th, a film which bears an eerie (read: copied) resemblance to Bava's Bay of Blood.
It's difficult to break a movie like this apart and review it piece by piece. Yes, the tribal drums and screeching strings of Stelvio Cipriani's score propel the action with heart-pounding intensity. Yes, the visual effects from monster movie veteran Carlo Rambaldi were masterful for the time (although comparatively speaking, the blood looks more like orange spaghetti sauce than blood). The performances were adequate for a slasher horror, but nothing special.
But the real worth of a film like this is not in its constituent parts, but in its cultural and cinematic impact. Bay of Blood's cinematic imprint is huge. Horror films are big business, and slasher films have been a large part of the market in the last 30 years. There's something deeply unsettling and deeply personal about an unidentified killer stalking you through the woods, or your neighborhood, or your own home. With Bay of Blood, Mario Bava handed future filmmakers all the tools they would ever need to construct a slasher film, and that is quite an achievement.
Storyline & plot: 7/10
Cinematography & effects: 7/10
Music & mood: 8/10
Performances: 6/10
The Reverend says: 8/10
For a lifelong slasher fan like myself, it was amazing to see all the elements assembled in one film at such an early time. Of course, elements of the slasher genre had been established previously, from Psycho's (1960) throbbing score, shower scene, and mentally unstable killer; to the gore and brilliant plot twists of fellow Italian auteur Dario Argento's debut, Bird with the Crystal Plumage (1970); to Dementia 13 (1963), Francis Ford Coppola's debut tale of family revenge, twisted southern gothic style. But Bay of Blood assembles all the popular tropes and flash-fries them into our collective cultural brain, a full year before the first American "slasher", Clive Barker's Last House on the Left (although I for one would very much beg to differ about LHotL's slasher status). Bay of Blood also has 3 years on 1974's Black Christmas, a film which definitely qualifies as an early slasher (and which, I might add, is one of the creepiest, scariest movies you will ever see). It would not be until 1978 that John Carpenter brought slashers to the mainstream with Halloween, and 2 more years until the subgenre exploded with Friday the 13th, a film which bears an eerie (read: copied) resemblance to Bava's Bay of Blood.
It's difficult to break a movie like this apart and review it piece by piece. Yes, the tribal drums and screeching strings of Stelvio Cipriani's score propel the action with heart-pounding intensity. Yes, the visual effects from monster movie veteran Carlo Rambaldi were masterful for the time (although comparatively speaking, the blood looks more like orange spaghetti sauce than blood). The performances were adequate for a slasher horror, but nothing special.
But the real worth of a film like this is not in its constituent parts, but in its cultural and cinematic impact. Bay of Blood's cinematic imprint is huge. Horror films are big business, and slasher films have been a large part of the market in the last 30 years. There's something deeply unsettling and deeply personal about an unidentified killer stalking you through the woods, or your neighborhood, or your own home. With Bay of Blood, Mario Bava handed future filmmakers all the tools they would ever need to construct a slasher film, and that is quite an achievement.
Storyline & plot: 7/10
Cinematography & effects: 7/10
Music & mood: 8/10
Performances: 6/10
The Reverend says: 8/10
Sunday, May 10, 2009
Curb Your Enthusiasm, Season 3
The third season of "Curb Your Enthusiasm" continues the chronicles of the crazy antics of Larry David and various other characters, including his hilarious agent Jeff, his friend Richard Lewis, and his business associate Ted Danson. In season 3, Larry moves away from trying to launch a "Seinfeld" spin-off with Jason Alexander and Julia Louis-Dreyfuss after a series of humiliating setbacks. Instead, Larry concentrates his efforts on leading a team of investors in opening a chic new LA restaurant. This, of course, comes with its own special set of setbacks, including a revolving door at the head chef position (featuring one chef with a particularly nasty case of Tourette's), and a potential corpse buried under the kitchen floor.
I think I've set aside the comparisons to "Seinfeld" that I've made in the previous two seasons. Of course the shows are similar, they have the same principle writer/creator. But the comparisons are no longer accurate or helpful. "CYE", in its 3rd season, definitely stands on its own feet. The writing, pacing, and delivery have consistently improved. Whereas in the first few seasons, maybe 3 out of 10 episodes were laugh out loud funny, that number is up to more like 8 out of 10 in season 3. Unfortunately, the role of Cheryl David continues to be marginalized and stereotyped, but that is the only major detractor for this season.
My favorite episodes of this season have got to be "Grand Opening", featuring the aforementioned Tourette's-afflicted chef, and "Krazee-Eyez Killa", in which Larry enters into a tentative friendship with the titular gangsta rapper and unwittingly rats out Krazee-Eyez's philandering ways to his fiance, Wanda Sykes.
"CYE" is coming into its own and getting consistently funnier and less awkward. Looking forward to where it goes in season 4.
Storyline & plot: 8/10
Cinematography & effects: 5/10
Music & mood: 6/10
Performances: 7/10
The Reverend says: 7/10
I think I've set aside the comparisons to "Seinfeld" that I've made in the previous two seasons. Of course the shows are similar, they have the same principle writer/creator. But the comparisons are no longer accurate or helpful. "CYE", in its 3rd season, definitely stands on its own feet. The writing, pacing, and delivery have consistently improved. Whereas in the first few seasons, maybe 3 out of 10 episodes were laugh out loud funny, that number is up to more like 8 out of 10 in season 3. Unfortunately, the role of Cheryl David continues to be marginalized and stereotyped, but that is the only major detractor for this season.
My favorite episodes of this season have got to be "Grand Opening", featuring the aforementioned Tourette's-afflicted chef, and "Krazee-Eyez Killa", in which Larry enters into a tentative friendship with the titular gangsta rapper and unwittingly rats out Krazee-Eyez's philandering ways to his fiance, Wanda Sykes.
"CYE" is coming into its own and getting consistently funnier and less awkward. Looking forward to where it goes in season 4.
Storyline & plot: 8/10
Cinematography & effects: 5/10
Music & mood: 6/10
Performances: 7/10
The Reverend says: 7/10
Sunday, May 3, 2009
Adventureland
Adventureland (2009) is a hilarious and poignant coming of age comedy from Judd Apatow disciple Greg Mottola, who hit it big with 2007's raunchy teen comedy Superbad. It's not surprising, then, that echoes of Superbad can be seen in Adventureland, including an uncharacteristically subdued performance by SNL favorite Bill Hader, and Jesse Eisenberg in the lead male role, channeling Superbad's Michael Cera for all he's worth. That's not to say that Adventureland is just some cheap Superbad spin-off. Oh no, far from it. This film has a life of it's own, deftly mixing influences from '80s cinema, Zach Braff's Garden State, and the heavy and ominous spectre of Lou Reed and his own personal NYC.
The film, set in 1987, follows James Brennan (Jesse Eisenberg), a recent college grad looking forward to a summer in Europe before grad school at Columbia in New York. But when his parents' financial situation changes, James must stay home in Pittsburgh, earning money as a carnie at Adventureland, the local amusement park. Soon enough, James is caught up in a complicated love rectangle, torn between shallow but fun Lisa (Margarita Levieva) and the beautiful and troubled Em (Kristen Stewart). Problem is, Em is already having a rocky affair with a married man, Adventureland's super-cool maintenance man, Mike Connell (Ryan Reynolds). All this plays against the background of summer hijinks at the park, drugs, parties, and an amazing soundtrack featuring Lou Reed and The Velvet Underground alongside some classic '80s tunes.
Adventureland is a great movie. The emotional and existential power is just about equal to Garden State, with the comic timing and sharp writing that we've come to expect from the Apatow school of film. As I've said, the soundtrack is phenomenal, and it's bolstered by a subtle score from Yo La Tengo, a great band who has always (intentionally) dwelt in the shadow of The Velvet Underground. The performances are mostly solid all around, although it's difficult to shake the spectre of Michael Cera when watching Eisenberg on the screen. Props to Ryan Reynolds for playing a dick that is somehow still likeable, and to Bill Hader, who was absolutely the perfect choice for Adventureland's owner/operator.
My one big beef with this film is Kristen Stewart. Her acting style just bugs the shit out of me. Whenever there's a close-up on her, her eyes start darting around like she doesn't know where to look or like she's looking at the camera over someone's shoulder. It's fairly distracting. And she plays every scene in a pained manner. Even scenes that don't require her to be all angsty. She nevertheless looks like she's being put upon to do some acting and basically like she'd rather be doing anything but acting in that scene right now. It's too bad, because she seems to have some talent. I hope she grows into it soon.
Storyline & plot: 7/10
Cinematography & effects: 7/10
Music & mood: 10/10
Performances: 8/10
The Reverend says: 8/10
The film, set in 1987, follows James Brennan (Jesse Eisenberg), a recent college grad looking forward to a summer in Europe before grad school at Columbia in New York. But when his parents' financial situation changes, James must stay home in Pittsburgh, earning money as a carnie at Adventureland, the local amusement park. Soon enough, James is caught up in a complicated love rectangle, torn between shallow but fun Lisa (Margarita Levieva) and the beautiful and troubled Em (Kristen Stewart). Problem is, Em is already having a rocky affair with a married man, Adventureland's super-cool maintenance man, Mike Connell (Ryan Reynolds). All this plays against the background of summer hijinks at the park, drugs, parties, and an amazing soundtrack featuring Lou Reed and The Velvet Underground alongside some classic '80s tunes.
Adventureland is a great movie. The emotional and existential power is just about equal to Garden State, with the comic timing and sharp writing that we've come to expect from the Apatow school of film. As I've said, the soundtrack is phenomenal, and it's bolstered by a subtle score from Yo La Tengo, a great band who has always (intentionally) dwelt in the shadow of The Velvet Underground. The performances are mostly solid all around, although it's difficult to shake the spectre of Michael Cera when watching Eisenberg on the screen. Props to Ryan Reynolds for playing a dick that is somehow still likeable, and to Bill Hader, who was absolutely the perfect choice for Adventureland's owner/operator.
My one big beef with this film is Kristen Stewart. Her acting style just bugs the shit out of me. Whenever there's a close-up on her, her eyes start darting around like she doesn't know where to look or like she's looking at the camera over someone's shoulder. It's fairly distracting. And she plays every scene in a pained manner. Even scenes that don't require her to be all angsty. She nevertheless looks like she's being put upon to do some acting and basically like she'd rather be doing anything but acting in that scene right now. It's too bad, because she seems to have some talent. I hope she grows into it soon.
Storyline & plot: 7/10
Cinematography & effects: 7/10
Music & mood: 10/10
Performances: 8/10
The Reverend says: 8/10
Friday, May 1, 2009
Feast II
Feast II (2008) is a great example of the fine line between a smart and funny tongue-in-cheek genre homage, and a gratuitous, indulgent, stupid piece of crap. The original Feast (2005) was smart, funny, tightly scripted, and actually somewhat frightening. It was a pretty damn good mix of creature horror, action, and comedy. The sequel isn't even worthy to wipe my ass. Which is disconcerting, since both movies have the same director, principal writers, and even a few holdover actors. Feast II's inferior creature design, effects, and cinematography could possibly be attributed to changes at those crew positions, but this film is bad all around, including some pretty abysmal writing and direction.
Feast II picks up where Feast leaves off. In the original, a group of (intentional) horror archetype characters are holed up in a bar in the middle of nowhere, fighting desperately to stay alive against a horde of mysterious and blood-thirsty creatures roaming the desert outside. The sequel picks up the morning after the epic standoff, as the few survivors try to warn a nearby town of the impending creature doom. Added to the mix are a gang of biker chicks looking to avenge the death of one of their sisters, used as a sacrifice to the creatures the night before. Oh yeah, and there's a couple of Mexican wrestler midget brothers. Yeah, exactly. WTF?
The characters from Feast were subtle stereotypes of common horror tropes. The parody was very toned-down and was actually a loving homage to the cheesy horror films of our youth. The sequel's characters are boring, unfunny, ridiculous caricatures, limited not just to horror archetypes, but to pretty much any kind of person the writers wanted to make fun of. Seriously. The addition of the midget wrestlers and the slutty lesbian bikers pushes this into the realm of stupidity and serves no purpose other than some cheap physical gags. I mean, come on! Midget wrestling? And not one, but two characters who have no lines and whose entire purpose for being in the film is so that they will eventually get naked by some convoluted plot trick? It's fucking ludicrous!
Moving along to the effects. If you have a subpar effects team (which Feast II clearly does), why on earth would you set half of your movie in a place that necessitates a shitty-looking greenscreen effect? And honestly, we need to take a step back here. It's just a rooftop, for godsakes!! The real question is, why the hell didn't they just film it on an actual rooftop? Is that so hard? Wouldn't it have been cheaper than doing half the movie in greenscreen?
And any coolness the creature and death effects may have had are totally obliterated by some atrocious pacing. My god, I felt like I was gonna fall asleep ten times just waiting for something, anything to get accomplished in the film. For example, there is an entire 20 minute segment on an impromptu "dissection" of one of the creatures. And by dissection, I mean one guy cuts it open and then pokes and prods various organs. Each time he pokes or prods, some noxious gas or disgusting fluid comes flying out of the creature's corpse (including an uncomfortably long segment wherein the corpse spews urine, semen, and god knows what else out of its ludicrously long penis). It was all blatantly gratuitous, disgusting, and played like a dick & fart joke.
It's obvious that the effects people were just creaming themselves with anticipation to show off their cool creations, so they linger on everything way too long, which any idiot knows only serves to diminish the power of the effect. Fucking amateurs. The monsters in the original were never fully shown, they were mysterious, amorphous, and fairly scary. The monsters in Feast II..... well, they pretty much just look like a bunch of guys running around in cheesy rubber monster suits.
God, I'm getting tired just trying to chronicle the horrendousness of this piece of shit. I don't even feel like getting into the acting, which was also really terrible. Suffice it to say, nobody's winning any Oscars here.
Storyline & plot: 2/10
Cinematography & effects: 2/10
Music & mood: 4/10
Performances: 2/10
The Reverend says: 2/10
Feast II picks up where Feast leaves off. In the original, a group of (intentional) horror archetype characters are holed up in a bar in the middle of nowhere, fighting desperately to stay alive against a horde of mysterious and blood-thirsty creatures roaming the desert outside. The sequel picks up the morning after the epic standoff, as the few survivors try to warn a nearby town of the impending creature doom. Added to the mix are a gang of biker chicks looking to avenge the death of one of their sisters, used as a sacrifice to the creatures the night before. Oh yeah, and there's a couple of Mexican wrestler midget brothers. Yeah, exactly. WTF?
The characters from Feast were subtle stereotypes of common horror tropes. The parody was very toned-down and was actually a loving homage to the cheesy horror films of our youth. The sequel's characters are boring, unfunny, ridiculous caricatures, limited not just to horror archetypes, but to pretty much any kind of person the writers wanted to make fun of. Seriously. The addition of the midget wrestlers and the slutty lesbian bikers pushes this into the realm of stupidity and serves no purpose other than some cheap physical gags. I mean, come on! Midget wrestling? And not one, but two characters who have no lines and whose entire purpose for being in the film is so that they will eventually get naked by some convoluted plot trick? It's fucking ludicrous!
Moving along to the effects. If you have a subpar effects team (which Feast II clearly does), why on earth would you set half of your movie in a place that necessitates a shitty-looking greenscreen effect? And honestly, we need to take a step back here. It's just a rooftop, for godsakes!! The real question is, why the hell didn't they just film it on an actual rooftop? Is that so hard? Wouldn't it have been cheaper than doing half the movie in greenscreen?
And any coolness the creature and death effects may have had are totally obliterated by some atrocious pacing. My god, I felt like I was gonna fall asleep ten times just waiting for something, anything to get accomplished in the film. For example, there is an entire 20 minute segment on an impromptu "dissection" of one of the creatures. And by dissection, I mean one guy cuts it open and then pokes and prods various organs. Each time he pokes or prods, some noxious gas or disgusting fluid comes flying out of the creature's corpse (including an uncomfortably long segment wherein the corpse spews urine, semen, and god knows what else out of its ludicrously long penis). It was all blatantly gratuitous, disgusting, and played like a dick & fart joke.
It's obvious that the effects people were just creaming themselves with anticipation to show off their cool creations, so they linger on everything way too long, which any idiot knows only serves to diminish the power of the effect. Fucking amateurs. The monsters in the original were never fully shown, they were mysterious, amorphous, and fairly scary. The monsters in Feast II..... well, they pretty much just look like a bunch of guys running around in cheesy rubber monster suits.
God, I'm getting tired just trying to chronicle the horrendousness of this piece of shit. I don't even feel like getting into the acting, which was also really terrible. Suffice it to say, nobody's winning any Oscars here.
Storyline & plot: 2/10
Cinematography & effects: 2/10
Music & mood: 4/10
Performances: 2/10
The Reverend says: 2/10
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