Friday, September 25, 2009

Sunday, October 4th: Scary Bitches Double Feature of a Natal Night to Remember - "Inside" and "Grace"




Welcome everyone! Well, it's that spooky time of year again where the best escape happens to be watching scary movies! Last year I had quite a few film screenings of classic horror, in chronological order, the theme being cults and possession, beginning with a wonderful double feature of The Seventh Victim (1943) and Night of the Demon (1957) and ending with the astounding Possession (1981).

The theme for October 2009 is Scary Bitches and will consist of three different nights of tantalizing terror in the shape of some of cinema's scariest female performances. The mini theme of the first night of Scary Bitches deals with women and that horrific thing so many of them have to deal with: pregnancy. On Sunday, October 4th, 2009, please join me for Scary Bitches: Natal Night, which will feature screenings of a Pre-Natal horror film, the French horror sensation, Inside (2007), which features a delightfully unsettling performance from Beatrice Dalle, and a Post-Natal horror film, the recently released Grace (2009), starring Jordan Ladd.

Much like Creepy Pregnant Lady movie night in February (where we watched creepy pregnant ladies like Emmanuelle Escourrou and Patty Duke), Scary Bitches wouldn't be complete without a grotesque little game, or two. During intermission, attendees will be treated to a rousing game of "Poking at the Baby," a stimulating game I invented involving popping balloons meant to represent pregnant tummies. The lucky attendee to pop the balloon with a surviving fetus wins a prize! No October film would be complete without my regionally famous marinated pizza rolls, along with several other ghoulish theme-appropriate party favors (but they will include items I have named Roe Vs. Wade Oranges and Termination Turnovers--- but can't give it all away, now can I? Please RSVP and contact me for showtimes.

Sunday, September 20, 2009

Toronto 2009: The List


Here's my list of best to worst from Toronto, 2009. The first 25 were all excellent films I would either watch again, buy, or force friends and loved ones to watch. And I only really disliked the last 3 or so.


1. My Son, My Son, What Have Ye Done - US

2. I Killed My Mother - Canada

3. Enter the Void - France

4. Dogtooth - Greece

5. AntiChrist - Denmark

6. A Single Man - US

7. The Disappearance of Alice Creed - UK

8. Chloe - Canada

9. Rec 2 - Spain

10. Le Refuge - France

11. Deliver Us From Evil - Denmark

12. Mother - South Korea

13. White Material - France

14. Trash Humpers - US

15. The Loved Ones - Australia

16. Eyes Wide Open - Israel

17. Spring Fever - China

18. The Ape - Sweden

19. The Hole - US

20. Vengeance - Hong Kong

21. I Am Love - Italy

22. Life During Wartime - US

23. To Die Like A Man - Portugal

24. A Prophet - France

25. Applause - Denmark

26. Les Derniers Jours Du Monde - France

27. Micmacs - France

28. Glorious 39 - UK

29. Broken Embraces - Spain

30. Accident - Hong Kong

31. The Vintner’s Luck - New Zealand

32. Ondine - Ireland

33. Daybreakers - Australia


Best Performances: Actress (Lead and Supporting)


Anne Dorval – I Killed My Mother

Charlotte Gainsbourg – AntiChrist

Paz de la Huerta – Enter the Void

Grace Zabriskie – My Son, My Son, What Have Ye Done

Kim Hye-ja – Mother

Paprika Steen – Applause

Tilda Swinton – I Am Love

Julianne Moore – Chloe

Julianne Moore – A Single Man

Robin McLeavy – The Loved Ones

Isabelle Huppert – White Material

Isabelle Carre – Le Refuge

Aggeliki Papoulia – Dogtooth


Best Performances: Actor (Lead and Supporting)


Udo Kier – My Son, My Son, What Have Ye Done

Tahar Rahim – A Prophet

Olle Sarri – The Ape

Martin Compston – The Disappearance of Alice Creed

Eddie Marsan – The Disappearance of Alice Creed

Colin Firth – A Single Man

Xavier Dolan – I Killed My Mother

Fernando Santos – To Die Like a Man



Toronto Film Festival 2009: Final Day - "My Son, My Son, What Have Ye Done," "Life During Wartime," "The Hole," "Applause," "The D'ppearnce of A Creed






For coverage of my final day at the Toronto Film Festival, 2009, which includes, My Son My Son What Have Ye Done, Life During Wartime, The Hole, Applause, and The Disappearance of Alice Creed, click here.

Thursday, September 10, 2009

Out of the Past: The Week In Film




Well, hello everyone. I am on my way to the Toronto Film Festival, and therefore, my weekly rundown has to be cut short and a little early as my ass will be plastered to a theater seat for the next 10 days. Be sure to check back daily for my thoughts and reflections on the brightest and best new international cinematic offerings!

Cess Pool Cinema:
1. The Fog (1980) Dir. John Carpenter - US
2. 17 Again (2009) Dir. Burr Steers - US
3. Cocoon (1985) Dir. Ron Howard - US

The Banal, the Blah, the Banausic:
1. The Appointment (1981) Dir. Lindsey C. Vickers - UK
2. Forbidden Zone (1982) Dir. Richard Elfman - US

Astounding Cinema:
2. Ong Bak: The Thai Warrior (2003) Dir. Prachya Pinkaew - Thailand
1. Someone's Watching Me (1978) Dir. John Carpenter - US

Theatrical Releases:
1. Extract (2009) Dir. Mike Judge - US 7/10

Rewatched Goodies:
1. Cat People (1982) Dir. Paul Schrader - US

Oh John Carpenter. He's got my number one spot and also a cess pool selection with The Fog. Yes, this was my first viewing of the film and I have yet to see the recent remake. The film concerns a group of mostly unrelated characters in a Northern California fishing town fighting what appears to be pirates in the fog on the town's 100th anniversary. Apparently these pirates had something or other to do with the the conflicted establishment of the township---so the pirate version of Alex Haley. Adrienne Barbeau (Carpenter's then wife) is kind of the star of the film as the small town's radio host. She uses a creepy, breathy voice in what appears as an attempt at being sexy. However, nothing could ever beat out her infamous assets, which are thankfully not made prominent here. Jamie Lee Curtis (reuniting with Carpenter after Halloween) plays an androgynous young hitch-hiker picked up by Tom Atkins, who she sleeps with and then becomes desperately attached to. And yeah, Curtis secured a deal to have mom Janet Leigh in tow as the town's organizer. Poor Janet and her stiff old lady hair---she looks like a dandelion gone to seed. Throw in Hal Holbrook as an alcoholic priest and you have what sounds like a campy, oogy, mess. Wrong, wrong, wrong. I can't believe I stayed awake through this non-thrill ride.

We've had Big (1988); we've had Freaky Friday (1976) and a remake (2003); we've had 13 Going On 30 (2004); and best of all, we've had Peggy Sue Got Married (1985)---so why, oh WHY (insert Nancy Kerrigan emphasis) did we need 17 Again? And from director Burr Steers, whose directorial debut, Igby Goes Down (2002) was actually quite good? I know the world seems to be quite taken with Zac Efron (including my lovely boyfriend) but I guess I'm just a hard nut to crack (in some ways). And let's pray Mr. Efron doesn't grow up to look like the coke puffy Matthew Perry, starring as the drab and icky (as he usually is) aged Efron character. A plot that revolves around an unrealistic star basketball player blowing an important basketball game because his pregnant girlfriend leaves after half time (fucking dumbass teenagers) and 20 years later, it turns out, has led a miserable, resentful life due to his choice as a 17 year old is utterly, flabbergastingly, ridiculous. Tasked with being his wife is squeaky face Leslie Mann (Mrs. Judd Apatow) and his daughter, Michelle Trachtenberg---and this bitch, she's my age. I rue the day I would be forced to portray a high school student while being a 25 year old. The gimmick---Perry gets to relive his 17th year and possibly correct some of his bitter errors. And how? Via what's referred to as a spirit guide in the shape of an aged janitor, played by Bill Murray's brother, who leads Perry to convince him not to jump off a bridge one rainy night and to which Perry falls into some kind of unexplained watery wormhole---you know, those wacky instances we never feel we have to explain or ever reference again. Perry becomes Efron and we spend the rest of the miserable running time expecting to care for someone, somewhere along the way. No. Here's what should have happened---Perry/Efron should have waited until after the game to find out what's wrong with gf. Two: ABORTION. Christ, they're not even that expensive. What a bunch of sorry assed breeders, that was my thought the entire length of this film. And please, someone stop the reliving-high-school-opportunity-feel-good-movies. Anyone talented enough, or smart enough, will realize that your time in high school was not meant to make or break you. It's over! Move on with life.

And then, darling readers, you may disagree with me, but I HATED Cocoon (1985). Mealy Ron Howard tries his hand at second rate Spielberg---which Spielberg is now doing. What sounds like more of a nightmare than a bunch of self-righteous old geezers getting all rejuvenated and uppity? Well, maybe the Nazis, or Republicans, but not much else. And why did Don Ameche win a Best Supporting Actor award for this? His screen presence barely even registers. Why not Hume Cronyn? Thankfully not Wilford Brimley (who was only 50 here), whose character is the worst kind---a mouthy, old, indignant white man. At the point where Brimley loses his driver's license due to his BAD vision, I couldn't be convinced to feel bad for him. Can't see? Well, then you can't very well drive a car, can you? And the aliens come to retrieve their cocoons that have been sitting on the bottom of the ocean for 10,000 years? Well, I can't really respect a supposed intelligent race that comes to our planet to A) acquire the services of someone that acts like Steve Guttenberg or B) fraternize with Steve Guttenberg. I'm sorry, that's a big strike against your race. It is the company we keep, as they say. An exhilarating human fable, the back of the DVD tells me? Hell no!

Now believe me, I really wanted to like The Appointment (1981). It's an obscure little early 80's release that never even made it to a theater, and whose director never made another film. Starring Edward Woodward (of "The Equalizer" and The Wicker Man, 1973, fame) as an old fuddy duddy with a bizarre father/daughter dynamic, we are led, somewhat surreptitiously to believe that his idiot savant violin prodigy daughter might be an entity possessing supernatural powers. With large, angry dogs as harbingers of death, we enjoy a long dream sequence where Woodward and his wife both dream of Woodward dying in a terrible car accident. Then we get to watch an equally long build up (which I won't ruin). But it's implied that his daughter is upsetthat he can't make it to her concert, due to an important "appointment." The film has an extremely creepy opening sequence of a girl killed in the woods---also a violin player. The problem with The Appointment is that it's too vague----I despise having everything handed to me neatly and evenly, but sometimes, a film can be too pretentious for its own good. I still haven't decided, but I might change my mind about this film, but for right now, I find it a bit slow going.

Composer Danny Elfman's brother, Richard, directed a film in the early 80's---a film so bizarre and strange it makes The Rocky Horror Picture Show (1976) read like Jane Austen. And he never really directed anything else of consequence. Elfman's film, Forbidden Zone (1982) is one of those love it or hate it zany cult classics. Featuring Herve Villechaize (yes, from "Fantasy Island") as the midget king of the sixth dimension and cult star Susan Tyrell as his insane queen (the woman whose face haunted me as a child when I watched John Water's Cry Baby, 1990, and who I hear has lost both legs in recent years), the plot is really of little consequence, but has something to with the Hercules family buying a house with a portal into the sixth dimension---except that everyone acts just as strangely in the first dimension, or whatever. Some catchy songs throughout, Forbidden Zone is the type of peripheral film for those who like to ingest or smoke substances before watching a film---or perhaps it's just necessary to enjoy this one.

Now, I put Ong Bak in the top tier because it actually wasn't a bad little film. The fight sequences, which are purportedly all real stunts, are quite awesome----however, couldn't someone have found the time to also write a plot, other than a hick villager travelling to Bangkok in order to take back the stolen head of his small village's God, Ong Bak? If you can manage to avoid the sharp undercurrent of ignorant religious values, this film almost works, and Tony Jaa's stunts are amazing. The main reason this film makes it into my top tier, you ask? It's in Thai---no Jackie Chang, Jet Li forced, phonetic English, lending this film a superior, authentic edge. Will I see the sequel at this year's Toronto Film Festival. No.

And this week's top pick goes to an amazingly well done little thriller filmed by John Carpenter before he did Halloween and starring a radiant, gorgeous Lauren Hutton as a woman being ruthlessly stalked by someone in an adjacent high rise. Excellent script, excellent acting and even a lesbian turn from Adrienne Barbeau (who met John Carpenter on the set of this film). Atmospheric, intelligent, and moody, this has to be one of the least well known but best films by Carpenter---I put this right behind The Thing (1981), and is now a must have for me. Originally aired on television (which is astounding, considering the drivelly tripe Americans devour on TV today) this is a must see for fans of Carpenter, or beautiful 1970's leading ladies.

Monday, September 7, 2009

Out of the Past: The Week In Film




Cess Pool Cinema:
NA

The Banal, the Blah, the Banausic:
NA

Astounding Cinema:
8. The Trigger Effect (1996) Dir. David Koepp - US
7. Trust the Man (2006) Dir. Bart Freundlich - US
6. The Life of Emile Zola (1936) Dir. William Dieterle - US
5. Five Easy Pieces (1970) Dir. Bob Rafelson - US
4. He Loves Me, He Loves Me Not (2002) Dir. Laetitia Colombani - France
3. Odds Against Tomorrow (1959) Dir. Robert Wise - US
2. They Live (1988) Dir. John Carpenter - US
1. Dancer In the Dark (2000) Dir. Lars Von Trier - Denmark

Theatrical Releases:
4. Into Temptation (2009) Dir. Patrick Coyle - US 4/10
3. Halloween II (2009) Dir. Rob Zombie - US 4/10
2. Cold Souls (2009) Dir. Sophie Barthes - US 6/10
1. Lorna's Silence (2008) Dir. Jean & Luc Dardenne - Belgium 10/10

In an effortless stroke of luck, I didn't happen to watch any mediocre or shitty films from the last week! Too bad theatrical releases like Halloween II and Into Temptation had to be so awful. I also had some issues with Cold Souls, but I may be biased due to a distrust of Paul Giamatti's abilities as far as screen presence go. It's sometimes difficult to be motivated to review films you found mediocre, hence my lack of review on this film.

You may be more familiar with the name of David Koepp as a screenwriter---he's penned several high profile Hollywood projects over the last several years, including the last Indiana Jones installment, Angels & Demons (2009) and War of the Worlds (2005)----not to forget early 90's films he also wrote, Jurassic Park (1993) and Death Becomes Her (19920. He has also directed several of his own films, those being The Trigger Effect (1996), Stir of Echoes (1999), Secret Window (2004), and Ghost Town (2008). Now, I think Stir of Echoes may be his best directorial effort, and I have been meaning to sit down and watch his feature debut, The Trigger Effect, for some time, especially since discovering it was inspired by one of my favorite episodes of "The Twilight Zone," an obvious piece of social commentary, "The Monsters Are Due On Maple Street." Examining modern passive aggressive tendencies towards race and classism, the film's first half is excellent, but kind of falters in the second half, concluding with a weak ending. Focusing on a well-to-do suburban couple played by Elisabeth Shue and Kyle MacLachlan (who would have been fresh of the embarrassing Showgirls, 1995) the film opens with an excellent and tense little scene in a movie theater involving and incident with an African American character played by Richard T. Jones---who doesn't appear again until the last portion of the film, which seems nearly pointless by this time in the narrative. The night of the cinema, all of the electricity goes out and stays out for several days without explanation, causing, as you can imagine, a fast paced breakdown of civilization. While Shue & MacLachlan stay in their neighborhood, the film is the most effective. An old friend of MacLachlan's drops by, played by Dermot Mulroney, who is clearly more working class and has some sexual tension with Shue. When a burglar of their house is shot and killed by a neighbor (the burglar turns out to be Jack Noseworthy), the bickering trio decides to leave the city for a safer destination. It is when they leave on the highway that the film falls apart and loses most of its credibility---however, it's an excellent little piece of cinema and the three leads fuel the tension and the sometimes meandering narrative.

Julianne Moore is one of my favorite actresses out there. (Imagine how I felt when she did a movie with Sigourney Weaver! Sacre Bleu!) Her director/partner Bart Freundlich often uses Moore in his projects, and their greatest collaboration will perhaps always be The Myth of Fingerprints (1997). Their followup project, World Traveler (2001), was a bit of a dud, so I was interested to see how their third time round would work in what appeared to be a frothy relationship comedy. Moore is excellent as a somewhat well known actress married to David Duchovny, a couple whose main problem seems to be that Duchovny wants sex all the time and Moore is never in the mood (in retrospect, watching this after Duchovny's little sex rehab stint in 2008 makes this ironic to the nth degree). While I believed most of their predicaments, except for the very end, it is the relationship of Billy Crudup, playing Moore's brother and his longtime girlfriend, Maggie Gyllenhaal that falls completely flat. While both actors are good, their characters are clearly incompatible, and nothing changes enough for them to warrant any eventual reconciliation. While I think Freundlich's film is a tad inconsquential, and by the end, pure fantasy, I enjoyed all the main characters and their predicaments. It's worth a watch.

Ahhh, The Life of Emile Zola (1936), one of those early Best Picture winners that no one talks about anymore, along with its lead actor, Paul Muni's Oscar nominated performance. While I'm not certain how much it deserved to win (it was up against 9 other films, including the much hailed Lost Horizon) the subject matter I found fascinating. It's too bad that French writer Emile Zola seems to have fallen out of popularity and critical discussion. I have made it a priority to finally sit down and read Nana. While anyone that knows me knows how I despise English speaking films depicting non-English speaking people, my initial interest in this film was for two of its supporting actresses, Gloria Holden (most famous for Dracula's Daughter, reviewed in a previous post) and Gale Sondergaard, the Oscar winning, Minnesota born actress, who I discuss in posts concerning The Spider Woman (1944) and The Climax (1944). Both women are particularly inconsequential here, especially Holden as Zola's wife (who I kept thinking was supposed to be his sister, so what does that tell you?). Most of the hubub around the actors focused on Muni and the Best Supporting Actor winning performance from Joseph Schildkraut as the wrongly imprisoned French soldier. Clearly a sensationalized, Hollywood account, if you're a fan of the earlier talkies, this film is at least engaging---and you might get curious enough to look up the real facts about a historical figure or two.

Oh Jack Nicholson. Remember when he was young and considered good looking enough to be the male lead? No? Well, it was a long time ago. And in his first Oscar nominated performance in Bob Rafelson's Five Easy Pieces from 1970, he still seemed evil and creepy. Though he puts in a good
performance, the film revolves around Nicholson working in the oil rigs after leaving his upper class piano playing family----and actually, now that I think of it, Francis Ford Coppola's new film, Tetro, has A LOT of similarities to Five Easy Pieces. But for the life of me, I just didn't buy Nicholson as an ex-piano playing savant. The real standout of the film is Karen Black as Nicholson's head over heels numbskull girlfriend. (Speaking of Karen Black, check her out in this recent music video from a band called Cass McComb). Receiving word that his father is in ill health, Nicholson returns to his family (and along the way we get snippets of a young Fannie Flagg--she wrote "Fried Green Tomatoes"--Toni Basil, who sang "Mickey" and a sallow looking Sally Struthers, who has an icky sex scene with Nicholson). Reuniting with his strange sister played by Lois Smith (remember Helen Hunt's strange mom in Twister, 1996?) Nicholson falls in love with the piano playing Susan Anspach, a woman staying at the family house and about to be married to a relative. Anspach, looking like Toni Collette, actually sleeps with Nicholson, causing him enough personal turmoil to turn this into one of those kitchen sink dramas in the vein of all those 50's and 60's Brit films like Look Back In Anger (1958) with Richard Burton. I recommend this as required viewing for any cinephile---a lot of themes Rafelson touches on are constantly expounded upon in the work of later auteurs, in particular, Coppola and Wes Anderson.

Oh Audrey Tautou---though I love Jean Pierre Jeunet and French actresses in general, I never quite fell into the Audrey craze. I much prefer the diabolical darkness of an Isabelle Huppert, or the comic genius of Catherine Frot, or the bitchy sex kitten-now-aged cougar of Catherine Deneuve. Audrey's persona is like that of a Sandra Dee or a Doris Day---so sweet and cute. While I don't hate that, it's just not my bag. Which is why I so thoroughly enjoyed He Loves Me, He Loves Me Not (2002), just a year after Amelie, in which Tautou happens to be sugary and sweet---but laced with arsenic. Playing a disillusioned young painter obsessed with a successful cardiologist that doesn't share the same affections, Tautou systematically ruins his profession, his marriage and his life in order to win his affections. Even the cute narrative style turns itself into a dangerously serious narrative, especially when Tautou manages to send the cardiologist an actual harpooned human heart. The cardiologist's (French star Samuel Le Bihan) wife happens to be played by another celebrated French actress, Isabelle Carre. Strangely, Isabelle Carre would go on to star in another excellent Gallic film with a narrative similar to this, but to even more dark and dangerous efect, called Anna M (2007), in which Carre stars as an unbalanced young woman dangerously obsessed with a physician. I smell a thesis paper about French values.

This week's Shelley Winters pic (I believe I am in the middle of seeing all of her major films) happened to be an excellent film noir directed by master filmmaker Robert Wise called Odds Against Tomorrow (1959). Also starring Robert Ryan, Harry Belafonte and Ed Begley, the film revolves around a dangerous bank heist put together by Begley. However, tensions rise when Robert Ryan turns out to be a disgusting racist and Belafonte, refreshingly, won't tolerate his bullshit. Beyond Winters, I was tickled pink to see Gloria Grahame (who gets one truly icky scene with Robert Ryan) and a little known actress named Kim Hamilton as Belafonte's ex-wife. The gorgeous Hamilton happened to be in The Leech Woman (1960), as well as having a bit part in To Kill a Mockingbird (1962) but trust me, no matter what your orientation, you'll remember a face as beautiful as hers. Of course, nothing goes as planned in Odds Against Tomorrow, but film noir always had one thing going for it---not shying away from the darker side of human nature and how they really behave.

My number two selection should really be tied with number one. I forget how good a director John Carpenter used to be. He has some serious misfires, but when he's good, he's really, really good. They Live (1988) --- which I hear is in the works to be remade---stars WWF wrestler "Rowdy" Rod Piper as working grunt who stumbles upon a pair of sunglasses that reveal the upper class yuppies to be aliens trying to take over the Earth as well as subliminal messages in nearly every magazine and billboard urging us to conform and obey, was surprisingly thrilling and enjoyable. And Mr. Piper, who I was sure would annoy me to no end, does play a dopey character, but he does kick some tight ass which includes a pretty good prolonged fight scene with character actor Keith David. I doubt a remake will have the same balance of cheese and believability as this fun little romp and I doubt anyone could spout the line "I have come here to chew bubblegum and kick ass...and I'm all out of bubblegum" to as great effect as Rowdy Rod Piper.

My number one selection is a hats off to Lars Von Trier with his Palm D'or winning 2000 film, Dancer In The Dark. Knowing I would most likely be made uncomfortable and reduced to tears as I often am with Von Trier's work (Breaking the Waves, 1996, Dogville, 2003) I knew I was in for a tearjerker, which perhaps is why I put off watching this for so long. I can see why some would be put off by this, especially if you don't care for Bjork's music, but she does give us a devastating and heartbreaking performance as a 1960's Czech immigrant who is slowly going blind and trying to save up money for a surgery that would correct the hereditary disease she has passed on to her son. Catherine Deneuve stars as her best friend and co-worker, generously looking out for her friend at work as her vision fails, and also a local production Bjork has been cast as the lead in of The Sound of Music. David Morse happens to be our antagonist, a pathetic excuse of a man, charged with taking advantage of our blind heroine. Dancer In The Dark was jarring and moving with several cameos from Joel Grey, Udo Kier, Stellan Skarsgaard and Paprika Steen adding gravitas to those in the know, but nearly every scene towards the tragic ending that involve Bjork and Deneuve, or Bjork and the kind prison guard played by Siobhan Fallon had me balling like a baby. Thus, I'm glad I watched it alone. I am scheduled to see Von Trier's latest gift of tortuous cinema the opening night of this year's Toronto Film Festival, AntiChrist, though I'm certain it won't move me quite as much as this film did.

Thursday, September 3, 2009

Into Temptation: Minneapolis Malaprop


Having recently attended a screening of Into Temptation, a new film starring Jeremy Sisto and Kristen Chenowith, sporting a world premiere in Minneapolis due to the fact that it was filmed here, I began to realize why more major films aren’t made here. You see, when filmmakers make movies in major cities like New York, LA, Chicago, Miami, etc, the inhabitants don’t flock to multiplexes ONLY because the movie was filmed there. Why? Because they fucking live there, that’s why. Needless to say, Into Temptation has been playing at the Lagoon cinema in Minneapolis to a packed house. My first attempt (after neglecting to see a preview screening) was in vain: Sold Out. Irritated, but not angry, I realized these poor, foolish Minnesotans would flock to something like this as a novelty, and not, of course, because they have any idea who is starring in it, directed it, or what the plot is about. On my next attempt, I made it in and was instantly irritated by the ungainly amount of senior citizens, apparently proud and awestruck that a motion picture was filmed here. Between wide-hipped muscle spasm maneuvers, painful and awkward jostling to the seats in the middle of the rows, confusion, lost spouses, old men shouting out their wives’ names in the dim lighting and the incessant dirge of rattling pill bottles, I could do little but clutch my fists at my sides and practice controlled breathing. I felt as if I had been sentenced to watch this film with a bloated gaggle of plucked, speckled, noisy birds that had wandered accidentally and distressfully into a pit of quick sand. Mixed in with this busload of nursing home attendees was a worse species: the aged yuppy. Flocking in at an alarming rate several minutes before the screening was to begin (which was not on time, anyway) were a bunch of suits and their bejeweled wives. One such cluster, unfortunately, sat in front of me. Their only reason for attendance? “Oh, you know I just had to see Judy’s house in the movie. And Nancy and Edna’s lake house are featured. Can you imagine?” and gobble gobble gobble from there. Meanwhile, during the film’s narrative, an excited chirping noise was emitted from one such idolatrous denizen as she pointed at the screen exaltingly, “Look! It’s Kay’s house.” Growling in the back of my throat, I was treated to the husband’s response, “Okay, we saw the house. Can we go now?” Apparently deciding they would be unable to live down a socialite’s shame of leaving mid-feature, they unfortunately remained. The daft suit, apparently irritated to remain the rest of the running time, perhaps missing his favorite mind-numbing sportscast or cartoon or game show, repeatedly leaned over to ask just what in the world was going on.

As for the movie itself, Sisto stars as a Catholic priest, who happens to be a friendly joe, kind of ho-hum, until one day in the confessional, a prostitute confesses a sin she didn’t commit yet--her upcoming planned suicide on her birthday. Though it’s not made extremely clear why he decided to spend the entire narrative chasing after a woman he doesn’t know (though the very first and last scenes try to paste in some sort of futile connection, but one that wanted me to send the director to film school) it becomes clear early on that he’s most likely just horny and/or bored. My cold heart was warmed at the short sequence where a young gay Catholic confesses his unavoidable sexuality, to which Sisto tells him that it’s okay and there’s nothing wrong with him. Yes, finally some Catholics are in the 21st century---but religion’s still a bane to many an existence and it doesn’t excuse the rest of the taped together plot.

Now, maybe it’s because I’m from here. Maybe it’s because I know there’s not usually a prostitute on EVERY street corner, and maybe it’s because I know that Sex World in downtown Minneapolis is anything but what’s described in the film as a “red light” district. Is there prostitution in Minneapolis? Of course. But it’s not relegated to Washington and Hennepin downtown. And then there’s the friendly, rosary handling bum, the Robert Frost quoting pimp, and the uber observant taxi driver popping up absurdly in the nick of time, which leads me to believe this film is one of those catty “God guides us all” narratives where we’re all hammily quirky and connected. While Sisto is an engaging screen presence, his character’s motivations are muddled and dull. Chenowith doesn’t fare much better. Looking like the shorter and tanner twin of Cameron Diaz, she gets too many angelic comparisons for one narrative to support, and not enough screen time to really develop an interest in her that’s more than passing. While the film had me groaning in exasperation, others seemed to moderately enjoy it. Perhaps lost in my own nihilism, I wasn’t aware I was living in a metropolis of priests and prostitutes, graciously fighting the good fight around me. Though the film contains moments that are sometimes touching, or perhaps interesting, we never get the sense that out hero priest is in any real danger of crossing any moral boundaries, or shall we say, be led “into temptation”---he’s just doing that very Minnesotan thing involving covering your morbid curiosity with idealistic excuses. But I figured out why the World Premiere was here. It wasn’t for the plethora of local talent, the local director or the pretty skyline----No, the world premiere was here because of Judy and Kay’s house.

Wednesday, September 2, 2009

Halloween II: Taking a Stab at Remaking a Sequel


You know, I could stand here and argue that Halloween II, a remake of a sequel (and to my knowledge, the tenth Halloween film) would have benefited from a more talented writer/director than Rob Zombie, but then I realized, only a B-grade director would benefit from resurrecting such a needless franchise. So, why not give Zombie a chance to show his chops? I didn’t ruthlessly despise his first Halloween remake, at least not nearly as much as Zombie’s ludicrously esteemed pinnacle epic, The Devil’s Rejects (2005) ---- I’m sorry, I just need to shout this out to all those hetero dude-men that always champion this film whilst I spout my necessary evils----Rob Zombie is NOT the first director whose film asks you to root for the bad guys. And the ridiculous, shopworn, shootout scene in slow motion to Lynyrd Skynrd’s “Free Bird” made me cringe in disbelief not only in awe at the intensity of awful cheesiness, but also at this sequence’s celebrated status amongst young, straight males. And the Skynyrd tune is used about as effectively by Zombie as it was in Cameron Crowe’s absurd Elizabethtown (2005).

Moving along, Zombie takes the concept of John Carpenter’s original 1981 hospital bound sequel and morphs it into the first five-ten minutes of his newest abortion, turning all the hospital scenes into a slip-shod dream sequence and fast forwarding the narrative a year ahead of time. We now see Laurie Strode (Scout Taylor-Compton returning) as having turning into a dirty-hippy, her hair unkempt, unwashed, and looking eerily similar in color to a rusted, stainless steel sponge. She takes a lot of meds, has goth decorations all over her room, and lives with the Sheriff (Brad Dourif), and his daughter, Annie (Danielle Harris). And Annie is given little to do but stand around in a robe, making breakfast. In fact, I don’t think I recall her ever being out of a bathrobe, meaning her only narrative use seems to be more akin to a short order cook than a character. And yes, Laurie Strode goes to a therapist, a session of which we are treated to watch in one meaningless scene with Margot Kidder as her doctor----which is actually quite funny, at least to those of us that remember Margot Kidder’s little widely publicized nervous breakdown in the late 90’s.

Meanwhile, Malcolm McDowell also returns as Dr. Loomis. While Donald Pleasance was more of the altruistic doctor stereotype (appearing in five of the first six Halloween films), Zombie thinks he’s brilliant by turning Loomis into a opportunistic egomaniac, trying to make a quick buck while publishing a new tell-all tale about Michael Myers and co. Zombie has Loomis and his chirpy assistant actually do a book signing of his newest trash pulp in the small town of Haddonfield, Illinois. Not surprisingly, relatives of butchered family members show up to the signing to make a scene, much to the chagrin of Loomis----maybe he should have picked a major city to promote his book. And what does the sheriff do on the actual day of Halloween as Laurie Strode’s new guardian? Do you think it would be wise to take her on a little trip out of town, maybe just for the first anniversary? No, let her wander around aimlessly and pick up a copy of the highly anticipated book about the man that tried to kill her, in which it documents that she is his sister, something no one bothered to tell her a year ago. Yes, that makes perfect, narrative sense. I’m with you, Rob. Excuse me, I mean Mr. Zombie. At the point where McDowell bitterly expresses how low he’s sunk “spoon feeding drivel to the masses,” I began to ponder if this was Zombie being tongue-in-cheek.

On top of that, as has been reported elsewhere, Zombie tries his hand at art house thematics, apparently thinking he could be Federico Fellini. The film opens with some psycho-babble definition of “white horse,” apparently signifying some sort of psychological turmoil, involving rage, etc, etc, to which we move to a scene with Sheri Moon Zombie visiting young Michael in the sanitarium, where we are treated to jilted dialogue explaining some hoodoo dream about a white horse and Sheri. Yes, he is also playing with a toy that happens to be a large, white horse in this scene. Yes, John Carpenter attempted to imbue the original Halloween II with a deeper meaning (remember the “Samhain” angle introduced ¾ through the film by Donald Pleasance?) but Zombie’s artistic touch looks more like a reimagining for a music video of Goldfrapp’s “Ride a White Horse.” Throughout the rest of the film, we’re treated to ghostly apparitions of Sheri Moon Zombie with a white horse, none of which fit nor make any sense. Apparently she is urging Michael to reunite the family by killing his younger sister. So why wouldn’t these dreams be present in the first one? I imagine Michael Myer’s explaining, “Oh, yeah, and I forgot---I see this horse a lot, since my murderous youth, actually, but that just wasn’t important to the narrative in Halloween, but this newest masterpiece is supposed to be giving you a glimpse of my mind, you know, my motivation. It’s really a brilliant character arc, executed with excellent precision, you know, to juxtapose me and my sister, you know?” Sheri Moon also shares a striking resemblance to Ann Coulter here---as much as I deride her odd pairing with Zombie (it’s like a lipstick lesbian dating Gertrude Stein), I do feel bad using this wicked comparison. I also couldn’t figure out why Zombie insists on portraying Michael Myers as coming from the dregs of white trash while the ghostly apparition of his stripper mother happens to wear a pristine white (or sometimes black) gown while drifting about like a jellyfish on the sea surface.

Michael doesn’t really seem all that bad in this installment---he only kills a bunch of white trash hicks---why not let him have some fun? A puffy Fergie lookalike, a dried out stripper looking like Helen Hunt----Haddonfield has become EBT central in the hands of Rob Zombie. Furthermore, I kept wanting someone, anyone really, to throw Laurie Strode into Michael Myer’s arms so he could have at her. I mean, it would solve everyone’s problems. Strode is portrayed here as a whiny, snivelly, idiot---why is her life so precious, and why is she so spectacularly lucky to have eluded her deadly brother? He would probably stop killing a needless amount of people in searching for her, and then we also wouldn’t be treated to any more sequels, prequels, geekuels or re-makes attempting to modernize the young Strode/Myers dichotomy for a new generation. She does nothing to help herself throughout Halloween II, except to become a vessel of evil to follow in her brother’s footsteps. Instead of helping himself a third installment of homicidal helper, perhaps Zombie should take a step back. After four features it’s about time for a director to branch out, avoid filming only subjects he’s familiar with (in Zombie’s case, white trash) and maybe direct a suburban angst drama. Or maybe a socio-political rom-com? Anything, please, except for something that looks like the drivel that’s come before.