Gerald Potterton
1981
The horny fantasies of millions of sweaty nerds have been penned, inked, and painted into Heavy Metal magazine, and in 1981 a feature-length animated film was created as a banner for the brand. "Heavy Metal" brings together several vignettes loosely based around the Loc-Nar, a phosphorescent green orb embodying infinite evil. The worlds/scenarios presented are expectedly fantastic and varied, ranging from barbarian kingdoms, to a futuristic Neo-New York, and even an EC comics tinged horror piece involving undead WWII airforce members. The pacing sags a bit in the middle with the stronger segments bookending the film, and while the animation is generally good, one really wishes Ralph Bakshi and his rotoscoping were along for the ride. Perhaps the most telling scene is the one in which a weakling nerd is whisked away from mundane suburbia, transformed into a muscle-bound He-man, and entrusted with saving a fantasy kingdom. The cherry on top of this literal slice of comic book fandom is the boy's voice supplied by John Candy. Cartoon nudity is of course a big draw, and the buxom, thunder-thighed lasses of "Heavy Metal" provide only the slightest disappointment in being physically identical save for hair color. This is the stuff middle school dreams are made of.
Thursday, July 30, 2009
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
Basket Case
Frank Henenlotter
1982
This cult classic deserves it's reputation by maintaining a pleasing balance between low-budget sleaze sensibility and a terrific monster spilling buckets of red stuff. Duane Bradley hits the city with his monstrously deformed parasitic twin riding shotgun in a large basket. Seeking vengeance on the doctors that would have annihilated the less photogenic twin, the brothers Bradley check into a Times Square flophouse and stalk their enemies. Henenlotter wastes little time showing off the beastie in the basket and gives it plenty of screentime, which thanks to the excellent special effects, it handles splendidly. Forget killer's POV shots and close-ups of corpses after the fact, this potato-shaped blob-monster tears throats with fangs and claws, whether the victim deserves it or not. The schlocky premise is treated with a light touch and lots of local New York color, with a grumbling hotel manager, old coot guests, and a genial street walker.
1982
This cult classic deserves it's reputation by maintaining a pleasing balance between low-budget sleaze sensibility and a terrific monster spilling buckets of red stuff. Duane Bradley hits the city with his monstrously deformed parasitic twin riding shotgun in a large basket. Seeking vengeance on the doctors that would have annihilated the less photogenic twin, the brothers Bradley check into a Times Square flophouse and stalk their enemies. Henenlotter wastes little time showing off the beastie in the basket and gives it plenty of screentime, which thanks to the excellent special effects, it handles splendidly. Forget killer's POV shots and close-ups of corpses after the fact, this potato-shaped blob-monster tears throats with fangs and claws, whether the victim deserves it or not. The schlocky premise is treated with a light touch and lots of local New York color, with a grumbling hotel manager, old coot guests, and a genial street walker.
The Wild Child
Francois Truffaut
1970
This is decidedly one of Truffaut's minor efforts, being lifted from a true report of a "feral child" found in the forests of Aveyron, and his attempted rehabilitation by a forward thinking doctor. The no frills black and white cinematography aids in period authenticity and it's nice to see Truffaut in front of the camera ( as Dr. Jean Itard), as he's always had good screen presence. Non-actor Jean-Pierre Cargol puts in an adequate performance as the wild child, but unconvincing moments of "play acting" inevitably pop up in a demanding role beyond the inexperienced actor's capacity. This film is another in a series of love letters Truffaut made about children and youth, particularly the rockier elements of growing up, and it's cleverly dedicated to Jean-Pierre Leaud, who played Truffaut's young alter ego Antoine Doinel in "The 400 Blows" (1959) and it's sequels. While there is narrative progress in the child's slow but steady education, the historical limits of Victor's ability to learn creates a dramatic bulkhead the film crashes, and eventually flounders against. Today it is believed that Victor was autistic, and for all of Dr. Itard's tireless work "milk" is the only word he was able to coax from the youngster.
1970
This is decidedly one of Truffaut's minor efforts, being lifted from a true report of a "feral child" found in the forests of Aveyron, and his attempted rehabilitation by a forward thinking doctor. The no frills black and white cinematography aids in period authenticity and it's nice to see Truffaut in front of the camera ( as Dr. Jean Itard), as he's always had good screen presence. Non-actor Jean-Pierre Cargol puts in an adequate performance as the wild child, but unconvincing moments of "play acting" inevitably pop up in a demanding role beyond the inexperienced actor's capacity. This film is another in a series of love letters Truffaut made about children and youth, particularly the rockier elements of growing up, and it's cleverly dedicated to Jean-Pierre Leaud, who played Truffaut's young alter ego Antoine Doinel in "The 400 Blows" (1959) and it's sequels. While there is narrative progress in the child's slow but steady education, the historical limits of Victor's ability to learn creates a dramatic bulkhead the film crashes, and eventually flounders against. Today it is believed that Victor was autistic, and for all of Dr. Itard's tireless work "milk" is the only word he was able to coax from the youngster.
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
Magnificent Obsession
Douglas Sirk
1954
The reigning kind of ridiculously over-the-top melodrama notches another Criterion entry with "Magnificent Obsession," the tale of a wealthy playboy (Rock Hudson) who falls for the widow (ever frumpy, ever sexless, Jane Wyman) of the man he inadvertently killed. All it takes is a chance encounter with a wise painter and his wacky half-baked do-gooding philosophy for Rock's uptight prick to 180 into selfless service, as he returns to med school, becomes a neuro-surgeon, and eventually operates on his blind sweetheart (did I mention he was responsible for the blindness as well?). The tragedy is laid on thick and made all the richer by some genuinely awkward moments. It's not quite as heady as "Written On the Wind" (1956), but there is a memorable scene in which a stumbling Wyman flirts with suicide. One of Hudson's pre-star roles, the closeted lunk doesn't project the assurance and warmth found in some of his later roles, but this hesitancy only adds to the bumblingly indelicate nature of the character. Sirk's inclusion of a precocious goldilocks tomboy for comic relief is simultaneously grating, rich, and delightful. I also think it would be fair to say that this picture is a predecessor to the Haley Joel Osment vehicle "Pay it Forward" (2000).
1954
The reigning kind of ridiculously over-the-top melodrama notches another Criterion entry with "Magnificent Obsession," the tale of a wealthy playboy (Rock Hudson) who falls for the widow (ever frumpy, ever sexless, Jane Wyman) of the man he inadvertently killed. All it takes is a chance encounter with a wise painter and his wacky half-baked do-gooding philosophy for Rock's uptight prick to 180 into selfless service, as he returns to med school, becomes a neuro-surgeon, and eventually operates on his blind sweetheart (did I mention he was responsible for the blindness as well?). The tragedy is laid on thick and made all the richer by some genuinely awkward moments. It's not quite as heady as "Written On the Wind" (1956), but there is a memorable scene in which a stumbling Wyman flirts with suicide. One of Hudson's pre-star roles, the closeted lunk doesn't project the assurance and warmth found in some of his later roles, but this hesitancy only adds to the bumblingly indelicate nature of the character. Sirk's inclusion of a precocious goldilocks tomboy for comic relief is simultaneously grating, rich, and delightful. I also think it would be fair to say that this picture is a predecessor to the Haley Joel Osment vehicle "Pay it Forward" (2000).
Thursday, July 23, 2009
Dead Snow
Tommy Wirkola
2009
The Nazi/Zombie genre is woefully underpopulated and a seeming slam-dunk in the appeal category, but Tommy Wirkola's attempt suffers from a slow start and cribs too heavily off "The Evil Dead" series. On paper everything is there: decent gore effects and great photography, resourceful med students fighting back with makeshift weapons, and a snowmobile armed to the teeth. But despite the cool imagery and obligatory hack 'n slash, much of the picture feels soulless and phoned in. For one thing, "Dead Snow" isn't all that scary, with a confused atmosphere and an action movie sensibility. At this point I can't remember a single character's trait or name, and was disappointed by the shots ripped off almost identically from the aforementioned "Evil Dead." It's one thing to homage, but in this case it's just too brazen. At the end of the day this is an ambitious example of a great concept with mediocre execution.
2009
The Nazi/Zombie genre is woefully underpopulated and a seeming slam-dunk in the appeal category, but Tommy Wirkola's attempt suffers from a slow start and cribs too heavily off "The Evil Dead" series. On paper everything is there: decent gore effects and great photography, resourceful med students fighting back with makeshift weapons, and a snowmobile armed to the teeth. But despite the cool imagery and obligatory hack 'n slash, much of the picture feels soulless and phoned in. For one thing, "Dead Snow" isn't all that scary, with a confused atmosphere and an action movie sensibility. At this point I can't remember a single character's trait or name, and was disappointed by the shots ripped off almost identically from the aforementioned "Evil Dead." It's one thing to homage, but in this case it's just too brazen. At the end of the day this is an ambitious example of a great concept with mediocre execution.
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
Mondo Cane
Paolo Cavara / Gaultiero Jacopetti / Franco Prosperi
1962
This shock documentary is the most well known of the Mondo flicks and still makes for an enjoyable viewing today, thanks primarily to it's globe-trotting variety and beautiful technicolor production values. As the Italian opportunists put humanity's many oddities in front of the lens much of the film's pleasure comes from divining fact from cheeky fiction. Several segments are undeniably true based on the footage, as the unflinching eye locks mercilessly on something as basic as the sad parade of drunks in a German bar. Other segments are cultural practices that are more commonly known today, like the massaging and beer swilling of Kobe beef. The truth of other segments isn't so apparent, like a family happily polishing bones in an ossuary in return for the roof it provides. There's still some nice shock value in a moppet dusting off skull after skull, but there is an undeniably staged quality about the whole affair. Of course the PC set will be turned off by the perceived "cultural insensitivity" and exploitative nature of "Mondo Cane," but the service of beautifully photographing and bearing witness to all the strange peoples and events in the picture is of far too much interest and value to be ruined by the ironic or arrogant voice over.
1962
This shock documentary is the most well known of the Mondo flicks and still makes for an enjoyable viewing today, thanks primarily to it's globe-trotting variety and beautiful technicolor production values. As the Italian opportunists put humanity's many oddities in front of the lens much of the film's pleasure comes from divining fact from cheeky fiction. Several segments are undeniably true based on the footage, as the unflinching eye locks mercilessly on something as basic as the sad parade of drunks in a German bar. Other segments are cultural practices that are more commonly known today, like the massaging and beer swilling of Kobe beef. The truth of other segments isn't so apparent, like a family happily polishing bones in an ossuary in return for the roof it provides. There's still some nice shock value in a moppet dusting off skull after skull, but there is an undeniably staged quality about the whole affair. Of course the PC set will be turned off by the perceived "cultural insensitivity" and exploitative nature of "Mondo Cane," but the service of beautifully photographing and bearing witness to all the strange peoples and events in the picture is of far too much interest and value to be ruined by the ironic or arrogant voice over.
Martyrs
Pascal Laugier
2008
This film's reputation certainly precedes it with stories of crew members revolting because of abuse towards it's lead actresses and over the top claims of graphic brutality and excessively disturbing content. Not since "Irreversible" (2002) do I remember a picture with such onus inflected buzz. While expecting the worst I actually found the picture to be quite watchable, and above that, pretty damn good. While fitting squarely into the dopily named "torture porn" genre "Martyrs" manages a more novel approach to it's theater of violence than other films of it's ilk. Beginning with a typical bourgeoisie family slaughtered in their home by a disturbed girl and her reluctant sidekick a battle between delusion and horrifying conspiracy is soon waged within the house's confines. While it's true the picture lays the violence on thick, particularly against women, Laugier makes the torment explicitly and purposely non-sexual. This conscious decision goes a long way to making the film more palatable, and in my opinion, more than a sensational exploitation stunt. Finally, the force behind the girls' suffering is far more worthwhile and clever than the hackneyed "unstoppable killer" routine. "Martyrs" is a welcome addition to the horror genre, and deserves to be judged on it's own merits.
2008
This film's reputation certainly precedes it with stories of crew members revolting because of abuse towards it's lead actresses and over the top claims of graphic brutality and excessively disturbing content. Not since "Irreversible" (2002) do I remember a picture with such onus inflected buzz. While expecting the worst I actually found the picture to be quite watchable, and above that, pretty damn good. While fitting squarely into the dopily named "torture porn" genre "Martyrs" manages a more novel approach to it's theater of violence than other films of it's ilk. Beginning with a typical bourgeoisie family slaughtered in their home by a disturbed girl and her reluctant sidekick a battle between delusion and horrifying conspiracy is soon waged within the house's confines. While it's true the picture lays the violence on thick, particularly against women, Laugier makes the torment explicitly and purposely non-sexual. This conscious decision goes a long way to making the film more palatable, and in my opinion, more than a sensational exploitation stunt. Finally, the force behind the girls' suffering is far more worthwhile and clever than the hackneyed "unstoppable killer" routine. "Martyrs" is a welcome addition to the horror genre, and deserves to be judged on it's own merits.
Brighton Rock
John Boulting
1947
Pitched by Film Forum as British noir, but more resembling straight crime drama, "Brighton Rock" is made audacious (and difficult) for giving it's gangster lead an unrepentantly rotten core. Future "Gandhi" (1982) director Richard Attenborough's rising hoodlum Pinkie Brown, is the one-man cause of misery for those around him. Small time Pinkie clashes against the underworld's big-boys, bumps off enemies and friends alike, and ruthlessly seduces a naive waitress who unwittingly has evidence against him. The plotting plods, and the dirty deeds aren't all that titillating, but the characters are colorful and well acted. Doomed henchman Spicer, Harcourt Williams' boozy tortured lawyer, and a brassy two-bit stage dame intent on righting the wrongs, all help to elevate the picture above average. Director Boulting adequately lenses the tense situations and ironic, semi-Hitchcockian setups Graham Greene is known for though as far as Greene adaptations are concerned I still prefer "The Third Man" (1949) and "The Fallen Idol" (1948)
1947
Pitched by Film Forum as British noir, but more resembling straight crime drama, "Brighton Rock" is made audacious (and difficult) for giving it's gangster lead an unrepentantly rotten core. Future "Gandhi" (1982) director Richard Attenborough's rising hoodlum Pinkie Brown, is the one-man cause of misery for those around him. Small time Pinkie clashes against the underworld's big-boys, bumps off enemies and friends alike, and ruthlessly seduces a naive waitress who unwittingly has evidence against him. The plotting plods, and the dirty deeds aren't all that titillating, but the characters are colorful and well acted. Doomed henchman Spicer, Harcourt Williams' boozy tortured lawyer, and a brassy two-bit stage dame intent on righting the wrongs, all help to elevate the picture above average. Director Boulting adequately lenses the tense situations and ironic, semi-Hitchcockian setups Graham Greene is known for though as far as Greene adaptations are concerned I still prefer "The Third Man" (1949) and "The Fallen Idol" (1948)
Thursday, July 09, 2009
Jubilee
Derek Jarman
1978
While there's plenty to like in Derek Jarman's thoroughly British post-apocalyptic freakout, his use of the burgeoning punk movement as a cornerstone is certainly suspect in regards to questions of sincerity and exploitation. With the help of a Sybil Queen Elizabeth I flashes forward to a homeland in decay: authoritarian capitalism and oppressive police rule over nihilistic squatters and hopeless human cattle (a fitting if overblown prediction of Maggie Thatcher's reign if ever there was one). Much of the movie centers around a rat's nest of n'er do wells as they deface books, philosophize, write on walls, fuck, and perform live on television for the rest of the nation. Much like punk-at-it's-worst there's a lot of chutzpah and great fashion but murky motives and shrill, often contradictory, politics. These angry youngsters do maintain a veneer of authenticity however, and make the hapless kids from "Return of the Living Dead" (1985) look like saddies playing dress-up. The inclusion of a megalomaniacal media mogul pushes the picture's sense of absurdity with his Top of the Pops empire quite literally ruling the globe. While Jarman's artistic talent and audacity is firmly on display in "Jubilee," it's also a picture of rough-edges and overreaching: in this most dysfunctional of worlds there are plenty of dysfunctional scenes and touches.
1978
While there's plenty to like in Derek Jarman's thoroughly British post-apocalyptic freakout, his use of the burgeoning punk movement as a cornerstone is certainly suspect in regards to questions of sincerity and exploitation. With the help of a Sybil Queen Elizabeth I flashes forward to a homeland in decay: authoritarian capitalism and oppressive police rule over nihilistic squatters and hopeless human cattle (a fitting if overblown prediction of Maggie Thatcher's reign if ever there was one). Much of the movie centers around a rat's nest of n'er do wells as they deface books, philosophize, write on walls, fuck, and perform live on television for the rest of the nation. Much like punk-at-it's-worst there's a lot of chutzpah and great fashion but murky motives and shrill, often contradictory, politics. These angry youngsters do maintain a veneer of authenticity however, and make the hapless kids from "Return of the Living Dead" (1985) look like saddies playing dress-up. The inclusion of a megalomaniacal media mogul pushes the picture's sense of absurdity with his Top of the Pops empire quite literally ruling the globe. While Jarman's artistic talent and audacity is firmly on display in "Jubilee," it's also a picture of rough-edges and overreaching: in this most dysfunctional of worlds there are plenty of dysfunctional scenes and touches.
Wednesday, July 08, 2009
Drag Me To Hell
Sam Raimi
2009
Sam Raimi returns to the genre that put him on the map without missing a beat or a step. "Drag Me to Hell" is a thoroughly entertaining and masterfully crafted horror flick, made all the more admirable considering he pulled it off with a PG-13 rating. Meek banker Alison Lohman gets a doozy of a curse put on her after denying creepy gypsy Mrs. Ganush an extension on her home loan. Now Lohman's got three days to set things right before the monstrous goat-hoofed Lamia demon performs the titular act. The picture's tone and style is definitely in synch with with Raimi's earlier horror outings, particularly "Evil Dead 2" (1987), and it's shocking to see how successful this signature style remains - slapstick-infused horror and plenty of ironic scares have not yet become anachronistic. Kudos to an image-conscious starlet like Lohman for letting herself look haggard and weary under the extreme duress. Her balancing act between fighting demons (literal in this case), and maintaining a feasible modern life not only ups the suspense and anxiety, but also provides for an extremely relatable metaphor. In an unfortunate casting decision Justin Long stars as Lohman's semi-understanding boyfriend. I say unfortunate because it's hard to divorce him from his "I'm a Mac" advertising persona, and his mere presence eventually becomes as distracting as if it were the Geico Gecko trying to console his hexed fiancee. A nice highlight is the "meet the parents" dinner from hell scene.
2009
Sam Raimi returns to the genre that put him on the map without missing a beat or a step. "Drag Me to Hell" is a thoroughly entertaining and masterfully crafted horror flick, made all the more admirable considering he pulled it off with a PG-13 rating. Meek banker Alison Lohman gets a doozy of a curse put on her after denying creepy gypsy Mrs. Ganush an extension on her home loan. Now Lohman's got three days to set things right before the monstrous goat-hoofed Lamia demon performs the titular act. The picture's tone and style is definitely in synch with with Raimi's earlier horror outings, particularly "Evil Dead 2" (1987), and it's shocking to see how successful this signature style remains - slapstick-infused horror and plenty of ironic scares have not yet become anachronistic. Kudos to an image-conscious starlet like Lohman for letting herself look haggard and weary under the extreme duress. Her balancing act between fighting demons (literal in this case), and maintaining a feasible modern life not only ups the suspense and anxiety, but also provides for an extremely relatable metaphor. In an unfortunate casting decision Justin Long stars as Lohman's semi-understanding boyfriend. I say unfortunate because it's hard to divorce him from his "I'm a Mac" advertising persona, and his mere presence eventually becomes as distracting as if it were the Geico Gecko trying to console his hexed fiancee. A nice highlight is the "meet the parents" dinner from hell scene.
Wednesday, July 01, 2009
Gerry
Gus Van Sant
2002
With the thinnest of plots Gus Van Sant shows commercial narrative cinema how much he gives a fuck and gives us what is essentially a movie about filming barren landscapes. Two pals stray from the beaten hiking path to find themselves completely lost in harsh country, no food, no water. The existentialist setup would be corny were it not for Van Sant's blase treatment of the material. The situation deteriorates slowly with the possibility of a freeway or human settlement always just beyond the horizon. The fratty guys (Matt Damon and Casey Affleck) never resort to dramatic theatrics or portents of doom, pointing fingers and crying for mamma won't help them out of the desert. The photography illuminates a vast world of gravel and crags, hardscrabble bushes and vast vistas which Damon and Affleck traverse with mighty strides or ant-like inching depending on vantage point. Most impressive from a technical standpoint are the extended tracking shots in which a slow shuffling of subject and focus maintains aesthetic dynamism. The minimal dialogue and explicit drama is generally tactful and necessary, though it doesn't quite hold a candle to the multi-millenia's worth of geological drama that shares the frame.
2002
With the thinnest of plots Gus Van Sant shows commercial narrative cinema how much he gives a fuck and gives us what is essentially a movie about filming barren landscapes. Two pals stray from the beaten hiking path to find themselves completely lost in harsh country, no food, no water. The existentialist setup would be corny were it not for Van Sant's blase treatment of the material. The situation deteriorates slowly with the possibility of a freeway or human settlement always just beyond the horizon. The fratty guys (Matt Damon and Casey Affleck) never resort to dramatic theatrics or portents of doom, pointing fingers and crying for mamma won't help them out of the desert. The photography illuminates a vast world of gravel and crags, hardscrabble bushes and vast vistas which Damon and Affleck traverse with mighty strides or ant-like inching depending on vantage point. Most impressive from a technical standpoint are the extended tracking shots in which a slow shuffling of subject and focus maintains aesthetic dynamism. The minimal dialogue and explicit drama is generally tactful and necessary, though it doesn't quite hold a candle to the multi-millenia's worth of geological drama that shares the frame.
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