Coraline: The Teri Hatcher Trauma Trope

Theatrical Releases:

Coraline (2009) - The superb animation and excellent use of 3D technology is excuse enough to venture out and see this in theaters. However, for those looking for more of a Gothic fantasy akin to director Henry Selick's previous astounding film, The Nightmare Before Christmas (1993), you may be a little disappointed. Coraline is a beautiful, original piece of art, but I somehow felt unsatisfied after the credits began to roll. Part of this may be due to the base material, a book by Neil Gaiman (in comparison, Christmas was penned by Tim Burton and James & the Giant Peach - 1996, was based on a Roald Dahl novel, both authors that tend to deal with much darker fantastical elements than Gaiman). I was actually a bit bored with the story, and despite the highlights of Ab Fab's Saunders & French, I found Coraline herself a little irritating and bitchy. And there is no real resolution, the moral being, be careful what you wish for. In the end, her parents don't reach the same great epiphany, and I fear, that in that dark world after the credits, Coraline will remain a neglected child. On the other hand, the "other mother" character is nice and creepy. The film's climax featuring the other mother turning into a strange spider-like creature is both right up my alley and visually brilliant. The film's worst distraction, however, is the decidedly un-dulcetic voice of Teri Hatcher, who voices both of Coraline's mothers. When she becomes the skinny Kate Moss-ish looking creature, I couldn't help but thinking Teri Hatcher was an irritating but perfect match for this character, as an insistent intuition forces me to believe Ms. Hatcher leads a strange existence dabbling in strange "acting" techniques involving mirrors and various circus animals and or toys. Surprisingly, I found Dakota Fanning's voice less jarring and distracting as I believe I channelled all my negative energy at her character rather than her voice performance.

The International (2009) -- What can be said about this strange offering from Tom Tykwer? This is the man who graced us with cinematic masterpieces like Run Lola Run (1998) and my personal favorite, Heaven (2002). But then, Tykwer, something funny happened on the way to the forum when an unsound decision was made to film Perfume: The Story of a Murderer (2006), not only in English, but with Dustin Hoffman and Alan Rickman playing Frenchmen. Nevertheless, I was quite entertained by his new offering, despite some shortcomings. The pacing is a bit frenetic and I was a bit underwhelmed by the handling of the two leads---Naomi Watts, as was also mentioned by a friend of mine, is strangely underused---I found this also to be true of her in Eastern Promises (2007). And Clive Owen's character could have been edited into this one from any number of other film's he's done---except that I don't think he's aging well. I found it strange that the excellent Ulrich Thomsen was also sorely underused. My same friend also found it strange, and I agree with him, in a silly scene when Thomsen asks his son for advice concerning some hooey about how to get out of a sticky situation. I know little Danish boys are probably just as precocious and intuitive as little children the world over, but I guess at that point in the narrative I felt like I could be a double-crossing, murderous banker just as easily as the next guy. The film's highlight, and what it would be remembered for, if anything, is a glorious shootout scene in the Guggenheim--and it is this scene which sold me on liking the film. Also, if you compare it to he boring pile that was Body of Lies (2008) you'll come away thinking The International is actually a decent film.

Criss Cross (1949) -- Catching a screening of this picture in a Universal Noir series, I realized more than ever that I don't care for Burt Lancaster. I finally watched Elmer Gantry (1960) a few months ago, and yes, the man did deserve an Oscar for Best Actor but only because I actually think the brawny lug-ish man is indeed a hammy caricature. What's worse is that this particular screening was part of a Burt Lancaster double feature. Sacre Bleu! Anyhow, Criss Cross was a decent little potboiler also starring the beautiful Yvonne De Carlo as the femme fatale, who's really more of a greedy gold digger than anything else. Involving the robbery of an armored car and the predicaments that ensue, I did enjoy the dark ending, but with so many double crosses I guess I felt this was a minor noir. That and the fact that Robert Siodmak directs, whose work I always find to be extremely male oriented.

The Killers (1946) -- Also directed by Siodmak and also starring Burt Lancaster, The Killers is a better film than Criss Cross and it's also notable for making both Burt Lancaster and Ava Gardner famous. I have read the short story it's based on by Hemingway and the film, of course, it's a bit different than the short story. Hemingway, however, reportedly liked this film (he must have sensed Siodmak's misogynistic flair). I have seen The Killers before but had forgotten large chunks of it, and I probably will again. Burt Lancaster's character as the Swede is even less likeable as an ex-boxer here, at the very least because his character is a dolt. I can understand falling for Ava Gardner's lusciously sumptuous Kitty Collins, but sometimes you gotta wise up to them dames. Survival of the fittest, I guess. I didn't feel the least bit remorse for what happens to the big idiot. The plot also revolves around a payroll heist and while I found Lancaster to be uncharismatic as usual, Gardner's character is given some substance. Albert Dekker also appears as an insidiously bad culprit. The film was remade in 1964, set in the world of race cars and starring John Cassavetes and Angie Dickinson. I don't believe I was able to sit through that one at all.

DVD

Deathtrap (1982) -- Legendary director Sidney Lumet (Equus - 1977; Network - 1976; The Wiz - 1978; Serpico - 1973; Before the Devil Knows You're Dead - 2007) filmed this highly entertaining play within a play written by macabre master, Ira Levin (author of Rosemary's Baby, The Stepford Wives, Sliver, Boys From Brazil). This early 80's black comedy is one of those tortured examples of cinema that dared to portray homosexuality in what is packaged as a mainstream film with A-list stars. Though used as a plot device, I found the subject matter to be well ahead of it's time and handled in a surprisingly mature manner (at least compared to other films of the period, e.g. Cruising - 1980). The film stars Michael Caine as a playwright desperately in need of a hit play when in reality he is plotting to kill his wife, Dyan Cannon, with the help of his male lover, Christopher Reeve. The "gay" part was seen as quite a shock, as both men play it straight, so to speak, until a scandalous kiss scene shortly after Cannon's death scene. This kissing scene was puportedly tagged the "ten million dollar kiss," according to Vito Russo, the amount assigned to the loss of revenue at the box office due to the gay subject matter. I find it interesting to note that this was Christopher Reeve's followup to Superman II (1980), and who seemed saddened when mentioning audience's reaction to the infamous kiss scene in interviews from that time period. (Though I'm not surprised--I remember audiences gasping in 1997 at the kiss between Kevin Kline & Tom Selleck in In & Out). Michael Caine had also recently played a murderous drag-queen serial killer in De Palma's wacky but enjoyable Dressed to Kill (1980), so I was surprised to learn that both Reeve & Caine apparently consumed mass amounts of liquor in order to "get through" filming the kiss scene, while Caine, left scarred from the experience, vowed never to film another homosexual sequence. Though I thought I remembered him playing gay in Miss Congeniality (2000)....Hmmmm.....Anyhow, possibly due to the apparent 'shock' we were supposed to feel after realizing, egad! the male leads are gay, the rest of the film suffers from a lack of quality and depth. I believe the film really loses steam when the brilliant Dyan Cannon's character dies.

Why Did I Get Married? (2007) -- Yes, another Tyler Perry film. The BF loves Janet Jackson like I love Sigourney Weaver, so don't be surprised at an upcoming post on Poetic Justice (1993). I was at first reluctant to view this Madea-less venture from Perry, especially after the similarly Madea-less Meet the Browns (2006) left much to be desired. However, I found Why Did I Get Married? not only an enjoyable film but also entertaining and heartfelt. I actually got misty watching two scenes, including one very emotional and well played scene with Ms. Jackson. I found musical artist Jill Scott as the "fat Christian" woman to be the weakest characterization, and, not surprisingly, Tyler Perry casts himself as an unbelievable pediatrician, if only because I just want to believe that pediatricians would be more likely have better grammatical range than Perry exhibits. Perry does have a knack for creating some excellent, err ghetto black women characters, and Tasha Smith adds a lot of steam and hilarious energy to Perry's film. We'll see what I think of The Family That Preys (2008).

Angela (1995) -- Rebecca Miller stands as an intriguing writer/director, and that's besides the fact that she is the daughter of one of America's most prestigious playwrights, Arthur Miller. While I had some likes and gripes about Miller's highly acclaimed, Sundance award winning second feature, Personal Velocity (2002), I found Angela to be a very understated, but intriguing film concerning a young girl's spiritual awakening. Having read about this film in numerous sources, I suppose when I discovered Vincent Gallo was involved I assumed he would be the image of Lucifer the title character keeps imagining. Instead it was Peter Facinelli---if that was what the most beautiful angel looked like then I'm certainly glad I'm human. I also love seeing cult icon Anna Thomas (or Anna Levine, depending on how she feels for the day) who always plays an enjoyable crazy. Thanks to seeing Unforgiven (1992) at a young age, Ms. Thomson/Levine taught me an important lesson at a young age -- don't laugh at a man if he has a small penis. Dangerous. Wait until he's at least in a different room. Anyhow, Angela, played by Miranda Stuart Rhyne, is obsessed with finding a way to Heaven, and on the way she gets baptized, talks to Lucifer several times and scares away a pedophile at the fair who she is convinced is an angel--you know the shit's serious if you scare away the pedophile. There's a lot going on in what seems to be a very intricate and layered film. Unfortunately, by the fitting conclusion (maybe you'll think I'm cruel if you've seen it) I just didn't care about Angela or her naive search for Heaven. Frances Conroy also pops up in a 90 second scene.

Humboldt County (2008) -- I mention Ms. Conroy because I unwittingly treated myself to a Frances Conroy double feature by watching this sad piece of cinema along with Angela. Humboldt County had a very promising preview and I love Fairuza Balk for some strange reason, possibly because The Craft (1994) had a profound impact on me as a young boy. Though she's featured prominently in the film's preview and all over the DVD cover, you'd assume fair Fairuza would saturate every reel of film. Sadly, she's gone after 15 minutes and we're left with one of the worst main characters I have seen in any film, "pot" themed or not. Humboldt County centers around a pot growing commune in California and the sheltered medical student that breaks free from his domineering father (played by Peter Bogdanovich, dry and surprised looking), form, and formality. What ensues is a completely unrealistic character "transformation" from anal retentive preppy to enlightened hippy in a matter of one joint. I don't think so. By the way, Peter (played by the irritatingly boring screen presence named Jeremy Strong) is stranded in the commune because he sleeps with quirky nightclub singer Bogart Truman (a cringe-worthy awful/silly/trying hard to-be-quirky character name) and she crazily drives him up into the mountains and deposits him there where he unbelievably befriends pot-grower Max, played by Chris Messina (Rebecca Hall's asshole fiance from Vicky Cristina Barcelona - 2008). And as much as I love Frances Conroy, she seems seriously miscast here, along with Balk. If I was a film director and I had seen this film, by the way, I would do my best to make sure Jeremy Strong never makes it in front of a camera again. Awful. Jeremy Weak-charisma. The only beacon of light in this film was an entertaining performance by Brad Dourif---but he's always good at crazy (you might know him as the voice of Chucky). I haven't wished a film to be over this badly in a while.

Frontier(s) (2007) -- A rather disappointing effort in the New Wave French Horror genre, Frontier(s) tries really hard to have some sort of political agenda to distract us from its rather unoriginal narrative. Made infamous for it's NC-17 rating it received for violent content, the film's violence really isn't all that bad. This same rating helped launch the French New Wave Horror in 2003 with High Tension, but whereas that film was French, fresh, and original, this film is tired and a bit contrived. Opening against a frenzied political atmosphere where a conservative candidate has been elected (an obvious Sarkozy jab) a group of young twenty-somethings take the opportunity to loot and pillage. Chased by the police, our heroine Yasmine's brother is killed. Pregnant and on the run, Yasmine and her boyfriend follow behind two of their other gang members that hole up in a remote hostel. Greeted by a scary looking pair of nymphomaniacal Frenchwomen, one who looks eerily like a skinnier, smaller-breasted Pamela Anderson (played by Estelle Lefebure), the two young men are seduced then slaughtered, etc, etc., as the women happen to be part of a Neo-Nazi clan a la The Texas Chainsaw Massacre. Too many elements don't add up and in the end, it's a matter of red-neck racist Nazi's (many anti-Muslim slurs are used) versus a rather unsympathetic group of thieving youngsters. Though I myself did not partake in looting when George W. Bush was elected for two terms, I think that if I had I wouldn't be surprised if I ran into Neo-Nazis while on the lam. You lie down with dogs....

Directed by Xavier Gens, who directed the video-game based American film, Hitman (2007).

Creepy Pregnant Lady: A Double Feature Event

Sunday, March 1st, 2009, 7PM: CREEPY PREGNANT LADY -- Double Feature!!!!

Yes, it's that time again, International Cinema presents a thematic cinema event revolving around one of horror cinema's most explored staples, the creepy pregnant lady. In deciding what films to show for Sunday's event, I tried to choose two unique and entertaining features. Lazy choices would have been Rosemary's Baby (1969), or the recent Inside (2007). Some of the films I considered that didn't make the schedule: The Unborn (1991), that crap Roger Corman film I've referenced somewhere already with Brooke Adams; It's Alive (1974), an excellent Larry Cohen classic, homage to Rosemary; I Don't Want to Be Born (1975) aka Sharon's Baby, a Joan Collins crap-fest that looked so bad it wouldn't be entertaining, and several other films I can't remember off the top of my head.

The selections I did choose, as you can see from the pictures:

Baby Blood (1990) -- Starring Emmanuelle Escourrou, directed by Alain Robak. Strangely enough, the more I learned about this feature I discovered that last year, in 2008, a sequel was penned by Ms. Escourrou and was released in France as Lady Blood, as apparently the 1990 film has developed a cult following. I have borrowed this synopsis from imdb.com:

A cruel circus owner beats and abuses his pregnant wife. One day the circus receives a leopard newly captured in Africa, but the animal soon dies. However, an evil creature that was inside the leopard bursts out of the animal's body, burrows into the wife's body and takes over her fetus. It soon starts demanding blood, and the woman goes searching for victims for her new "baby."

Doesn't that sound excellent? And so, to balance this obviously over-the-top feature:

You'll Like My Mother (1972) -- Starring Patty Duke and filmed in Duluth, Minnesota in the Glensheen mansion---before the Glensheen murders. Now, if you know anything about that history, then you'll realize this is creepy. The plot revolved around a recently widowed pregnant woman, played by Duke, who goes to visit her mother-in-law in wintry Minnesota, only to find some disturbing secrets.....Sounds like a cross between Die! Die! My Darling (1965) and Hush (1998).

What you will need for Creepy Pregnant Lady Night: Please wear loose fitting clothing, or bring a hoodie. I will have blown up balloons for those in attendance in order to simulate pregnancy. In between the films, you will receive a closed envelope from me, which will indicate whether or not your baby is healthy, an economic drain, etc. You will use this information to determine whether or not to abort your baby. But first you must divulge an explanation to the rest of the group and it must be voted on. The surviving fetuses must be given a name by their respective parents and at the end of the second film, another scenario will determine whose babies will survive.

Additionally, Pregnancy Test Martinis and Stuffed Ricotta Shells will be served in honor of repulsive pregnancies in horror cinema.

There Is Evil...On the Other Side: A new novel by Susan Atkins (or Sadie Mae, if you will)

Well another week, another winter, another batch of cinema to praise or condemn. Some sneaky-pie re-makes and some plain, old re-hashed material.

Theatrical Releases:

Madea Goes to Jail (2009) - Now, I'm not going to waste too much time on this one, but the results are what you'd expect if you're familiar with Tyler Perry's films. His Madea character is entertaining and laugh out loud funny at moments, however, the incoherency in tone is rather jarring. One minute Madea is bitch-fighting with Dr. Phil and the next we have a (ahem, unrealistic) scene with a pimp man-handling some prostitutes. With a strange concoction of truly talented actors (Viola Davis; Vanessa Ferlito) and Perry regulars (Tamela & David Mann; Sofia Vergara) Perry's film feels like a Madea reel was microwaved with a mediocre Lifetime mini-series, something more aptly titled "My Name Is Loquita and My Pimp Beats Me." So as not to sound too harsh, I must add that I have done volunteer work that included street outreach helping to get prostitutes off the streets. And let me tell you, Mr. Perry could have learned a thing or two from a little volunteer work. Keshia Knight Pulliam ("The Cosbys"), delivers a pretty decent performance as Candy, the victim of some awful circumstances. However, street-walking prostitution doesn't give you the pearly whites Ms. Pulliam sports throughout her tour of duty. Perry relies heavily on stereotyping of prostitution instead of delving into any real issues, not to mention how awful his characterizations of affluent people of color (Ion Overman, portraying Derek Luke's DA fiancee) are. Nevertheless, the cobbled together mishmash obviously has it's core audience so as long as Perry stays safely in his God-fearing element he will continue to be successful. The BF reminds me that his films aren't meant to be 'analyzed," and I agree, but can't help myself! For a different post I'd like to apply queer theory to the body of Perry's work, as people seem to forget we're watching a young man play an old woman and yet the ever present sexuality component that surrounds this 'genre' (Tootsie, Mrs. Doubtfire, Some Like It Hot) seems to have slipped through the cracks with Perry's films. Just like church in real life. If you can form the words Praise Jesus and clasp your hands together people think you're as wholesome as a whole wheat fiber supplement. As a matter of fact, some young ladies sitting in front of me during the film exclaimed that Robin Coleman (who plays a prison inmate, Big Sal) was a man. I looked her up, Ms. Coleman, to my surprise is indeed a lady. However, my initial reaction to the young ladies was that, Madea's a man, so what's the big deal? How is that so easy to overlook?

The Class (2008) -- Winner of last year's Palm D'or at the Cannes Film Festival, I have to admit that The Class is a well made film, but somewhat of a disappointment. Francois Begaudeau stars as a version of himself, the students star as versions of themselves, and the result is basically a manipulative fiction/documentary. The result? It seems like it's hard to teach urban children. I do not have a lick of the man's patience and I would not be a teacher of any kind of child in the US, France or Abudabu. Other people's children are like 'other' people---in other words, mostly awful. We spend two hours watching this man over a year trying to teach young children. Not much gets taught as the main issue is breaking through to talk with them. While the film is refreshingly realistic for it's genre (American counterparts like Dangerous Minds - 1995, are simply melodramatic farces) I still cannot understand why, of all the good foreign films, this won at Cannes? Is the influence of Sarkozy greater than I imagined? I do enjoy the director, Laurent Cantent. I'm still keen on seeing his Charlotte Rampling flic, Heading South (2005).

Were the World Mine (2008) -- I had two very personal reasons to see this film. First, as this film was marketed towards gay people, I always try to make an effort to support GLBT arts as we'll never see any representations in mainstream cinema if we don't give money to the small stuff first. Second, the film is the first piece of cinema in seven years that stars the wonderful Wendy Robie. Don't recognize her name? Well if you saw "Twin Peaks" or happened to catch one of Wes Craven's better films The People Under the Stairs (1991), then you'll know who I mean. Robie stars as the drama teacher every gay theater major hopes for. The film, based on the 2003 short from the same director, Tom Gustafson, is a kind of fantastical musical inspired by Shakespeare's A Midsummer Night's Dream. This is what whimsy is made of and the film is both touching and well put-together, especially for a first feature film. Wendy Robie is hilarious, and for someone who doesn't care for musicals, I actually enjoyed a few of the songs. Set in a small, homophobic community, Were the World Mine tells the story of a high-school aged boy who is out about his sexuality. Cast as Puck in Robie's staging of A Midsummer Night's Dream, Tanner Cohen stars as Timothy, who manages to create the love potion from Shakespeare's play and turn most of the homophobic community into homosexuals. Culminating, of course, in the townspeople at least becoming tolerant, many of the homophobic instances are at the same time ridiculous and realistic. Overall an interesting treatment of pertinent issues---and if you like whimsy then you should see this film.

DVD

Quarantine (2008) -- I had the good luck of seeing the original film this was based on, [Rec], a Spanish film from 2007 that was not released on our shores. Since Americans are lazy, ignorant people that overall seem to be unable to read and watch a film at the same time, rather than release a perfectly good film it was just remade with English speaking actors. In fact, [Rec] wasn't even released on DVD in this country. What a goddamn sham. And Yes, I mean sham, not shame. Quarantine is basically a pretty good remake in it's own right. The beginning, however, before the action starts, is atrocious. Jennifer Carpenter (The Exorcism of Emily Rose; "Dexter") stars, and her initial scenes at the fire department with a barely recognizable Jonathan Schaech (Hush - 1998; That Thing You Do! - 1996) and Jay Hernandez (Hostel - 2005) are flat, silly, and embarssingly dumb. The plot, if you don't know, surrounds a strange rabies-like virus afflicting an apartment building that is quarantined while the local fire department is responding to an emergency call. Both films are equally chilling. It just pisses me off that even in the director's commentary he can't even reference the source material. That's what I call a motherfucker. Jaume Balaguero and Paco Plaza, who directed the original, are at work on a sequel. Rumor has it the pair may also be given the chance to bastardize someone else's work in an American remake of Inside (2007).

The Model Couple (1977) -- Directed by photographer William Klein, who only made a handful of films, primarily documentaries, The Model Couple tells the story of Claudine and Jean-Michel, a couple who is 76 or 77% average, chosen by what's called The Ministry of the Future, to be isolated, monitored and experimented upon so that the government will be able to be prepared to meet the needs of the people at the end of the century. The first half of the film is quite entertaining but begins to grow tedious about halfway through. Everyone gets a little stir crazy, and, as with anything human, manipulation ensues. A very young Anemone (no last name) and Andre Dussollier are extremely fun to watch.

Mirrors (2008) -- This one isn't quite a remake, but, ahem, heavily "inspired" by the 2003 South Korean film Into the Mirror, which, not surprisingly, isn't available on DVD in this country. I, wily devil that I am, have the Region 2 copy. I must say, I wasn't extremely impressed with the original. It's a little dull. Ere goes, when I discovered that one of my new favorite directors was helming an American re-make, I was a little excited. Alexandre Aja is one of the best new auteurs of horror in the last ten years or so. I LOVE High Tension (2003), and more surprising to myself, I LOVE Aja's remake of The Hills Have Eyes (2006). Let's face it, most of Wes Craven's work is crap, but even still, to impress me with a remake is a feat and Aja did it. Needless to say, I was looking forward to Mirrors, even though the cast concerned me. I don't believe Kiefer Sutherland ever really excited me and Amy Smart is definitely one whose film's I would rather avoid (though, if you haven't seen Just Friends - 2005, see it for excellent use of Anna Faris). Today's blog title originates from this film's tagline. And of course, if you don't know who Susan Atkins is then you were probably born after 1969 or you haven't read "Helter Skelter." Anyhow, the film immediately sparked my ire when I realized Kiefer's ex-wife is played by a stunningly gorgeous woman named Paula Patton, who has had bit parts in unimpressive fare like Hitch (2005), Deja Vu (2006), and Swing Vote (2008). Hopefully people will forget that she had to make out with Kiefer Sutherland in this tripe. As you read, please note that I feel extreme embarrassment and shame for the extremely talented director, Alexandre Aja. It is with great trepidation that I damn his work and write these words. Moving on, Kiefer Sutherland is not the man to cast as a recovering alcoholic and his performance is about as inspiring as vegan pulled pork served with canned vegan Quail eggs (I like meat and I've had those eggs). The film opens with Kief living with his sister (Ms. Smart--who is a bartender in the film--muahhh) because he used to be a detective and he killed a man, and cry sniffle sniffle, cough, he hasn't gotten over it, hit the bottle, caused his wife to kick him out, and well, you can all predict it from there. Kicking the booze, he takes a job as night watchmen at a department store that notoriously burned up five years before. It seems that it is just Kief's bad luck he took this particular job as it turns out the mirrors in the burned up store contain demons. The demons are there due to their own bad choices it seems, as they left the body of a young schizophrenic girl back when the department store was a mental hospital. It seems that nowadays with google and wikipedia you could find all this shit out before taking the job. People are so lazy in researching. Can you imagine if research still required you know what Dewey Decimal meant? Anyhow, the mirrors seem to make all the nightwatchmen find this girl they came out of during a vague kind of therapy session. Luckily, Kiefer has connections from when he was a detective. He finds the girl's family (curiously, not through the DMV) and finds the girl, who, thankfully, is a nun at a church 0.05 miles down the road. Anna, the nun, listens patiently to Kiefer, reveals all the boring mirror elements the film has presented to us, and tells Kiefer she will not return with him as the demons will cross over into this world if she does. Kiefer screams at the nun that she is selfish as apparently the old lady would rather live out her days in peace rather than be a conduit for demon activity and save some strange nightwatchman's family. Meanwhile, as he attempts to take her by force, the demons, as they are prone to do, accost his family at home. It is here where the rules of the game change a little bit---it seems that ANYTHING that shows a reflection is good enough for the demons--like water, metallic door handles and heavily moisturized human skin. What crap. And when Kiefer's estranged wife actually apologizes for not believing him when he plaintively tries to convince her that mirrors are evil, I about had it. Yes, I am attempting to tell you to avoid this steaming BS. And Aja, I am counting on your upcoming remake of Piranha (1978) to be especially good even though I can't understand why that has to be in 3D. The poster art was also one more reason I avoided this in the theater--it's obviously not Kiefer Sutherland, whose name, oddly, is above the title. The individual in the poster, rather, invites one to believe that an actor resembling Gumby will instead be guiding us through this ride of non-thrills and non-sequitors.

A Dangerous Woman (1993) -- Watching the first five minutes of this film, I realized that Maggie & Jake Gyllenhaal were indeed the children of director Stephen Gyllenhaal. Beyond that, there is nothing redeeming about this piece of shit. Perhaps I had hoped for too much, as, after all, I loved the director's next film, Losing Isaiah (1995). A Dangerous Woman stars Debra Winger as a seemingly mildly retarded woman who never really lives up to the misleading title. Barbara Hershey, who never looked better than she did in the 1990's, stars as Winger's aunt that kind of, though unconvincingly looks after Winger. Hershey is also the narrator, who succinctly tells us that no doctor ever figured out what was wrong with Winger. She's just off, a little special. Fuck that---the woman, at the very least, could have at least been described as autistic, as that umbrella term seemingly describes everything, maybe even me---but then, I realized the film would have come across as extremely sick because Gabriel Byrne, who turns up as a greasy, alcoholic, extremely poor Irish-accented, porch-fixing handyman, actually sleeps with and impregnates the mildy-retarded/special Debra Winger in one of the ickiest sex scenes I have ever seen. Additionally, a quite icky masturbation scene with Winger made me stop eating my snack. I can't tell who was more icky really---Winger in her hammy performance or Byrne, who I could never understand women's fascination with (my mother always thought he was sexy---I will give her the benefit of the doubt and assume she didn't see this film). David Strathairn also pops up as greaseball, the cause of the handle "Dangerous Woman" because Winger stabs him to death in one of the silliest stabbing scenes ever committed to film. Pregnant, in jail, Winger ends up in a special people home. Why? Because she's autistic! Doctors could never figure out what's wrong my ass! Mr. Gyllenhaal just wanted to avoid being called a pervert. Laurie Metcalf ("Roseanne") and Chloe Webb also turn up as plot pieces. I love Webb, though it seems her uneducated lilt cursed her into playing always crazy (Sid & Nancy - 1986), bohemian ("Tales of the City" - 1993) or bimbo (Twins - 1988), and she's no different here. Needless to say, this film drove me up the wall with it's saccharine sweet performances, bad early 90's drama-thriller music, greasy men and the second worst special-lady performance garnering an actress awards attention. The worst, in my book, is Jodie Foster's goofy diuretic inspiring performance in 1994's Nell. Chicka, Chicka, Chickabee, indeed. Winga, Winga, Wingabee in this case.

Stupendous Nipple Placement & You: What You Need to Know

Bonjour mon amies! We truly are in the dregs of the cinema season. Between monstrously awful Hollywood films and pretentious heavy handed art-house fare and the awful Minnesota weather I of course have a thing or two to say. I'm off to see The Class (2008) tonight, the winner of last year's Palm D'or and Oscar nominee for Best Foreign Language film. With all the press it's getting, I am certain it will be winning that award. However, I always feel an ominous dread, that awful feeling like something just won't live up to it's expectations. I had the same fear with Slumdog Millionaire (2008), and I was pleasantly surprised, so let's hope this Frenchie won't let me down. Not a whole lot of greatness over the past week, but here's a rundown:

Theatrical Releases:

Friday the 13th (2009) -- I am convinced that director Marcus Nispel is the Jessica Simpson of film directors. In other words, like a small, spoiled child on a karaoke machine, he greedily and mercilessly bastardizes any films he wants to. Nispel was also responsible, if you don't know, for the 2003 remake of The Texas Chainsaw Massacre and a 2004 film version of Frankenstein, a film that stars Parker Posey and Vincent Perez probably hope would fall unobtrusively into a nether world of forgetful cinema. Now, the argument seem to be that Nispel is not remaking anything deemed classic cinema. I would have to agree. However, this new concoction is so bland, boring and so excessively dull that even the stereotypical heterosexual bludgeoning wasn't enough to stir my ire. What does anger me is that these infantile filmmakers are given the opportunity to remake old B films, either to reinvigorate a genre that American filmmakers clearly cannot refresh, or to use the genre to explore more radical issues concerning sexuality, gender, or any other numerous semantics that once low-brow genres like horror and comedy were able to explore, and they fail, fail, fail at doing anything different. Instead, I am forced to listen to the most un-titillating sexual dialogue written since Showgirls (1995) that doesn't have the benefit of being amusing, such as extended reference to one boring blonde woman's supposedly "stupendous nipple placement." Well, I guess since her nipples were on her breasts and not her forehead or her patellas we're all good. The cast isn't even worth mentioning or complaining about--the poor things just want to be actors, after all. It didn't hurt Kevin Bacon, who starred in the first 1980 film. What this new bland film lacks is the only highlight that the first film had---Jason's mother. Granted, Betsy Palmer is a bit over-the-top, but that's what made the first film so damn good. Rather than expound on the Jason mythos, the new film offers the same inconsistencies, much like the Old Testament in that book called the Bible. The scariest element of Friday the 13th (2009) were the small, yet loud chirpy children that filled the theater---it seems quite a few never knew there was an original. Not surprisingly, Hollywood expects that we forget there ever was such as a thing as "original material."

This Gun For Hire (1942) -- I do feel grateful to live in a city that every now and then shows some older, classic films in it's drying up independent theater chains. Part of what's being billed as "Universal Film Noir" at the Heights theater in Minneapolis was a screening of This Gun For Hire, starring the gorgeous Veronica Lake and Alan Ladd. Directed by B director Frank Tuttle, the film does have some dated moments---it is most obviously with WWII espionage rhetoric that doesn't make altogether too much sense under close scrutiny. What the film does have going for it is an overall decent script and some breakneck pacing. The two song numbers with Ms. Lake feel a bit out of place but are extremely entertaining nonetheless due to the captivating screen presence of Lake. Having a rather flat affect, Lake is also soothing in that icy, femme fatale way that I crave. As I had never seen a film with Lake before, I was quite surprised at how much Kim Basinger managed to resemble her in LA Confidential (1997). Robert Preston (perhaps best known for his Oscar nominated role as a gay entertainer in Victor Victoria - 1982) has the thankless role of being the hammy cop boyfriend, and the same goes for Alan Ladd as a rather one dimensional baddie. However, Laird Cregar puts in a rather entertaining and notable performance as a slimy yellow-belly, and this was two years before he made a big name for himself in The Lodger (1944) and subsequently died that same year. If you like noir and haven't seen this one, it's highly recommended. Also, the two strange scenes involving Ladd's (whose name is Raven) fascination with cats are quite intriguing.

DVD

Black Book (2006) -- Now I don't mind Paul Verhoeven. His American films aren't really quality, but they're funny. I could watch Showgirls (1995), Total Recall (1990), and maybe even Basic Instinct (1992) again and again. Verhoeven's best film, in my opinion, is his last Dutch film, The 4th Man (1983). Needless to say, when I had heard Verhoeven was filming another Dutch film I was a little excited, especially since his last film before it was Hollow Man (2000). Overall, I was a little disappointed as his latest venture really wasn't all that good. The film is a bit long and sad to say, but lead actress Carice Van Houten's hairdo kept making me think of Christina Aguilera's video for "Candy Man." The film's tone is completely inconsistent, especially since it's dealing with a "true" story from the Dutch Resistance during WWII. Van Houten really goes through some absurd and downright unbelievable travails--most disgustingly notable is a scene where 30 gallons of human excrement is dumped on her. Shitty. But the film especially becomes ludicrous in it's last half hour, when every 90 seconds bad guys turn out to be good and vice versa. It was like needing Dramamine on simple flight from Minneapolis to Chicago. Too much unnecessary turbulence.

Boudu (2005) -- I was very wary of purchasing this film as it is indeed a French remake of the great Jean Renoir's Boudu, Saved From Drowning (1932). Director Gerard Jugnot does skate the proverbial thin ice with attempting to remake a Renoir film, and sadly, he falls into the water. I purchased the film and watched it for the incomparable Catherine Frot. If you are reading this and have yet to see Catherine Frot in a film I think you should immediately stop what you're doing and go find a film with her and watch it. Just not this one. Frot doesn't disappoint, but sadly, her comedienne strength doesn't save this turkey. It's not that it's bad, it's just that the film is tedious--Jugnot cast himself as Frot's husband and he comes across as rather uncharismatic. Gerard Depardieu stars as the title character, and Depardieu is usually very, very good in a film or very, very bad. The latter, I conclude, in this. Revolving around a prickly member of the upper classes saving a homeless man named Boudu from drowning, with of course, light slapstick ensuing, this remake misses it's mark. Just watch Renoir.

The Man and the Monster (1959) -- Some extraordinarily good horror cinema came out of Mexico in the 50's and 60's, one of my favorites being The Witch's Mirror (1962), directed by Chano Urueta. Hence, I purchased a highly recommended film directed by Rafael Baledon, The Man & The Monster. Basically, it's "Dr. Jekyll & Mr. Hyde" with a piano and Satan. An egocentric pianist is jealous of a beautiful female pianist and prays to Satan offering his soul if he can only be the best pianist in the world. Satan obliges, killing the female pianist, whose corpse is propped up like Evita Peron's in the antagonist's study. The catch: every time he plays the piano he turns into a hairy wolf-like beast with superhuman powers. To get away from the clutches of Satan, the pianist trains a young woman who is the spitting image of the pianist he killed---in order to make her the best pianist in the world, so he can purportedly get his soul back. However, that Satan is a wily character and it isn't made clear in the film whether or not the Hoofed One acquiesced to this little agreement. While not as good as The Witch's Mirror, I am motivated to see one of Baledon's other efforts available in the US, The Curse of the Crying Woman (1963).

Embryo (1976) -- I had high expectations for this one. I actually own an old VHS copy of this Rock Hudson sci-fi/horror vehicle from the late 70's. Concerning a scientist conducting experiments on human fetuses in order to accelerate the maturation of the fetus without the use of a uterus (those pesky things), the film is actually just boring. It's sad to see Rock Hudson so old (but before he got real run down with AIDS) and Barbara Carrera is beautiful, even if she is devoid of talent. And like all good things, the Carrera character becomes addicted to a strange drug and to stop aging she has to start killing pregnant ladies so she can eat their unborn fetuses. However, this is all done in such an unexciting manner you could viably see lots of pretty ladies engaging in said activities. And then there's the sex scene between Hudson and Carrera, where she asks to be "taught." That was giggle worthy.

3 short films by Nacho Cerda: The Awakening (1990); Aftermath (1994); Genesis (1998)

Spanish filmmaker Nacho Cerda seems to have made a name for himself with art-house horror fans. There was considerable buzz surrounding his 2006 film, The Abandoned, which starred Anastasia Hille, a very alluring actress. That film started out good but felt like it would have played better as a short, and ended up being only slightly better than most of the other After Dark Horror Series it was packaged with. That said, when I discovered that some of Cerda's shorts were on DVD I did get a little excited. The first film on the disc, The Awakening, is your standard man-involved-in-a-suddenly-frozen-world theme, only to discover he is looking down at his collapsed body. Genesis was the best of the three, presenting a twisted riff on the Pygmalion myth. The most shocking and disturbing was Aftermath, a 30 minute exercise in disgusting pointlessness concerning two morgue workers and the unspeakable things they do to corpses, which involves a gross-out scene involving, of course, necrophilia. I am not a gore hound but can withstand it when necessary to the plot. But I found this short film tasteless and basically it's point is shock for shocks sake. Keep in made this is coming from an individual who actually enjoyed Nekromantik (1987).

Smooth Talk (1985) -- One of the best films I've seen recently is Joyce Chopra's Smooth Talk, a mid-80's film with Laura Dern playing a 15 year old adolescent. Based on the extremely creepy short story "Where Are You Going, Where Have You Been?" by Joyce Carol Oates, Smooth Talk tells the sexual awakening of a young girl growing up in a household with no one to talk to. Mary Kay Place stars as her unsympathetic (though not entirely horrible) mother. Basically, Smooth Talk is about a young girl singled out and forced into offscreen sexual acts with a brilliantly creepy Treat Williams. The film is surprisingly realistic in it's depiction of growing up, and though I'm not a female and therefore my felt companionship with the main character may be mocked, there are moments, especially between Williams and Dern that are quite uncomfortable. It's sad that Chopra has been relegated to TV work after the failing of her second feature film The Lemon Sisters (1990). Dern is, as usual, a force to reckon with onscreen. My one problem with the film is the changed ending---read the story and see the movie. Highly recommended.

Sunday, February 15, 2009 "Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?"

You are cordially invited to George and Martha's for an evening of fun and games.

This Sunday's film selection is the next title in the American Woman series we have going under the umbrella handle of "International Cinema," the overall theme of Sunday's movie nights hosted by moi in Uptown, Minneapolis. I don't believe I've taken the time to discuss the theme of Sunday movie night, which was originally created back in May of 2008. Generally every other Sunday, a movie is selected (usually by me!) from a different country/culture, etc. In order to incorporate US films, I decided to create some different 'series' of American film (because there are many worth seeing). One of these series is titled American Women, of which previous selections have been Looking For Mr. Goodbar (1977) and Foxy Brown (1974), and is simply used as an angle to organize some excellent American cinema, here specifically with some iconic representations of female sexuality, femininity, female aggression, etc, all that fun stuff I love to go on and on about. That said, this Sunday's film is Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf? (1966).

Now, I have seen this film before but most of the fun is watching it with people that have never seen it before. Elizabeth Taylor is laugh-out-loud amazing, as is Burton. Sandy Dennis & George Segal are also in top form as the young couple invited over to dinner at George & Martha's. As a small child, I didn't have access to the film, but having read the play in elementary school, I remember trying to get a performance of this going with a little theater group I was a part of in the fifth grade. Years later, I would discover that this film put the final nail in the coffin of the Hollywood Hays Code, as the last censorship issue that had yet to be toppled under the Code was foul language. Needless to say, with my fifth grade group we didn't even get past a read through of the opening scene after I explained to some fifth grade girls what floozy meant. I tried my best, let the record show. Needless to say, I love this play, Edward Albee (who wrote it) and Liz Taylor. If you don't know, Liz and Richard play George & Martha. The plot revolves around them inviting a young couple over for dinner, and the most alcohol you may ever see consumed on screen. This film was Mike Nichols' feature film debut. For those who don't know, his second feature was The Graduate (1967)---I have often wondered how it would feel to be the individual whose first two films define late 60's American cinema? The film won Oscars for Elizabeth Taylor (Best Actress), Sandy Dennis (Best Supporting Actress), Best Cinematography, Best Art-Direction, and Best Costume Design.

In honor of the infamous line Elizabeth Taylor utters in the opening sequences of the film, "What a Dump!" (an homage to Bette Davis in Beyond the Forest - 1949), I will be serving Dump Cake.

You are cordially invited to Nicholas Bell's for an evening of fun and games :)

The Uninvited: My Facebook Phantom and How He Incessantly Messaged Me

As some of you may be aware, the new horror film The Uninvited (2009) does not have the additional subtitle and has nothing to do with that Alanis Morissette song that was unfortunately attached to the crap remake of Wings of Desire (1987), City of Angels (1998) -- you know, that one starring that scion of acting, Nicolas Cage? But if you observe the nifty poster art, you'll see the personification of the creepy feeling I'd get if some icky person I didn't like requested that I add them as a facebook friend. And then I'd have to say yes because, chances are, I'd have to see said person/people in public and they'd be all awkward because I'd be all awkward and all because they technically aren't my friend and shouldn't have that distinguished title on my facebook profile. That said, I don't have a facebook profile if just to avoid being another shiny cog in that super happening internet social scene. I, personally, am wont to believe that friends are generally a bit tiered in one's life. Your parents, your significant other, your close ones--they all know who your closest friends are. Online is bit different--you can't really give your facebook friends a weighted number, even though they probably have one, or at least a 'level.' Everyone wants to feel special, it seems. But does that homely little man you were polite to at the bar deserve to be your friend in any sense of what that term indicates? Facebook, myspace, etc, have made the word friend into one of those contextual words, like love. You can't really use either of those words that freely or they lose their meaning.

Meanwhile, in movie land, 2009's next mainstream horror movie, The Uninvited is to the horror film genre what 'friends' are on facebook. In plainspeak, someone just may mistake it as something authentic. But my little friends and readers, this little trish-trash is about as horrific and thrilling as a new Britney album. You know what I mean. Funny. Unintentionally funny--If you seek attention. The poster, among other things, is eerily similar to the poster for that 2007 horror film, The Invisible, which I have included for your viewing pleasure. I haven't seen it, but from the preview it looks like that film is at least aptly titled. No one is invited to any sort of integral plot function in The Uninvited. So I don't really understand who or what was un-invited or denied invitation. I mean, to un-invite something implies that you changed your mind. Can you do that on facebook? If so, I would love to fuck around with that function. But much like the travesty of this year's The Unborn, where nothing was born or denied birth, this film's 'handle' would have been better used as a sequel to The Wedding Planner (2001). Or like online chatting with someone named supercutehottieboi69 and 69 is their age.

Now, I've wasted SOO much time bitching about the basics, but since the film is utterly lacking in substance, it's a bit difficult. The plot revolves around a young girl as she is released from a psych ward because several months earlier she had slit her wrists due to a mysterious fire that engulfed her sickly mother. Again, this is one of those films in which the family is so wealthy that you have a hard time feeling any pity for the plight of these dull, flat people with their mansion-cabin and oodles of free time. Emily Browning and her wide face plays Anna, the main character. Nabokov describes a character in Lolita as having polyp lips, and instantly I thought of not only Angelina Jolie but also Emily Browning. You may recognize Emily from the Lemony Snicket film (2004) or another horror classic, Darkness Falls (2003), of which the additional title could have been "On Her Career." Well poor, virginal Anna quite dislikes her new step-mother, who used to be her mother's nurse. What sounds like a nice homage to the Joan Crawford classic, Possession (1947), is anything but. The film's main high-light, however, is Elizabeth Banks, who is so radiantly blue-eyed bitchy I smelled shades of Rebecca De Mornay in The Hand That Rocks The Cradle (1992). And I love how the family pictures try to portray Banks looking 'nursey.' However, the imbalance in obvious talent is so great that when Banks gets all revved up, there's nothing to counteract her aggression in order to give her reason to really act the way she does. This is even more painfully obvious after the film's schlock ending that borrows a bit from a now iconic 1999 horror film. I don't need to be cruel and give it away so easily. Because of the twist, everything that has come before doesn't add up to a whole lot of sense. Which wasn't surprising. The film so deliberately misleads you because it knows it has no substance and is on a rickety railway to the shit-can from the opening credits---and not in that awesomely fun High Tension (2003) way. The supernatural elements in this film are so hokey and out of place they could have been cutting room floor footage from any number of other films. The ghost children that keep popping up and looking strangely Amish are particularly ridiculous. The film also, sadly, stars David Strathairn, who I'm guessing needed work before the strike or maybe he skimmed the script. But if you enjoy a campy bitch performance, rent the DVD and skip to scenes with Banks. Directed by the Guard Brothers, who have nothing else to their credit for the time being, the film will be another of those extremely forgettable horror films from the 2000s. The film is definitely unenchanting and unhorrific.

"Now's not the time for dick measuring, Stuart!" And Other Gems This Week in Cinema

Well hello hello, all you that have waited with bated breath for my next unveiling, my next cosmopolitan creepshow of cinematic carousing. A few good, a few bad, and a few pretty damn fugly, here's my little rundown. I know you are all used to my fancy introductions but I think I have a sinus infection (which I thought wouldn't happen any more since I quit smoking. Hmmm) and my feelings towards superfluousness are much like what I'd imagine Harrison Ford felt like during that scene where he shoots rather than spars with that Arab Sheik (forgive me if that's not PC) due to the fact that Harrison had diarrhea that day in Raiders of the Lost Ark (1981).

Theatrical Releases:

Paul Blart: Mall Cop (2009): I know that every January and February the studios dump their big turdy films into the mainstream cinemas. I would argue that they do that every summer, too, but the kiddies are out of school and so the rest of us have to suffer. Needless to say, this film is one of those Winter turds that looks and smells an awful lot like those summer turds---in other words, not that good but otherwise not so offensive. The producers had a decent amount of fiber, let's say. Kevin James is quite entertaining, but his Paul Blart felt more like a TV skit stretched out a bit too long. Keep in mind I have yet to see that awful looking I Now Pronounce You Chuck & Larry (2007), so maybe Mr. James will spark my ire eventually. Here, he's just doing what he does best--playing a harmless fat man with a big heart and a big appetite. Cuteness abounds, especially with the supposed romance he has with the wig kiosk girl (Jayma Mays), that doesn't quite ring true. But it is a treat to see Shirley Knight as his mother, looking virtually the same as ever over the past fifteen years (you may recognize her as the mother in Stuart Saves His Family-1995; or when she was a young thing, as Paul Newman's love interest in Sweet Bird of Youth- 1962, among many other films). What made the film more noteworthy was the special man (yes, in order to spread a message of tolerance we must avoid those fun words like retarded even if the Black Eyed Peas had that hit song not so long ago) that sat directly behind us. We learned that this man apparently despised fat people, did not understand the concept of hypoglycemia, and had no idea who Olivia Newton John was. We also figured that he had no common decency or respect as he blithered on throughout the whole movie, commenting to his buddy on everything that transpired as if he was reading a lukewarm Jackie Collins' novella. (Does she write novellas? I feel like I don't converse with people that actually read Jackie Collin's 'work,' but I am surprised all the time). And as we got up to leave and I turned to bookend all of my own spits and grumbles, I realized the man was special and he was ALONE. No one was sitting by him at all. Immediately I made an executive decision not to engage the unchaperoned adult male-beast who also talked to himself in the bathroom, and, not surprisingly, neglected to wash his hands. Damn you, Paul Blart.

Waltz With Bashir (2008) -- Now, I am not one that generally raves about animated films. And I'm not really going to rave about this one. As someone who is admittedly ignorant as to what is going on in Israel and who started what, who bombed this n'that, I found the film intriguing and made me want to learn more, so I appreciate that. Overall, the film was a little tedious in the middle. The end, however, was very powerful, showing some actual footage of wailing women, distraught at the awful death and carnage in the rubble around them. In the end, I guess I'm just thankful to be living in a country where I am not subject to such religious/political warfare. It's a bit more passive-aggressive here. That's more like playing checkers. Anyhow, the film is worth a look and the animation is quite beautiful. A repeated dream sequence of young boys bathing before an awful massacre is eerily gorgeous, and in the end, a bit devastating.

Wendy & Lucy (2008) -- I have yet to see Kelly Reichardt's much lauded 2006 film Old Joy, but I will be certain to, now. From the preview I could tell how heavy Wendy & Lucy was going to be, but I found myself touched and affected. It was one of those films that I couldn't sit through the credits because I just didn't want to deal with people immediately afterwards. A simple film about a young woman trying to make her way to Alaska with only her dog Lucy, the film starts and basically stays in Oregon. Wendy gets caught shoplifting dog food, subsequently loses her poor canine and of course, her car breaks down. Michelle Williams is excellent as Wendy, and I am immediately saddened that her performance will be overlooked by Hollywood fanfare. Wendy only has Lucy, and nothing else in the world loves her or gives a rat's ass about her. The film's final moments, along with an extremely touching scene with a parking lot security guard (played by Wally Dalton) is bringing tears to my eyes as I recall it now. Director Larry Fessenden (Wendigo- 2001; The Last Winter- 2006) also makes a cameo appearance as crazy homeless man (because he looks like one). Strangely enough, I caught this at the theater the same day I saw another canine themed love film, Red, but that will come below.

Taken (2009) -- And the title of today's blog comes from this little gem of a movie. A co-worker of mine claims she read somewhere that Liam Neeson and James Woods are the most well-endowed men in Hollywood. The problem is, that's a little vague for me. Where do Hollywood's borders end? Do they have to be a SAG member? Is that like claiming to be the most well-endowed in the upper mid-west? Where does that end exactly? And I have no interest in seeing James Woods' penis, because no matter how big it is, I imagine it would look like his pockmarked face. Anyhow, my co-worker was at the movie with me and leaned over to giggle when Liam Neeson spits out the penis line at a homely little Frenchman. Taken is not a bad film, really. As most people seem to be saying, it's not that good either. By far the worst part of the film is the screenplay and the scathingly irritating Maggie Grace, ("Lost"). (On a side note, Grace's character's name in The Jane Austen Book Club-2007- is Allegra, a fitting name for something that dries up your prostate). In this film, the awkward Ms. Grace tries very to hard to play a gangly 17 year old girl. She comes across as a very special 17 year old, one that had just seen the light of day for the first time, much like you'd imagine the Fritzl kids to act after being released from that dungeon in Austria. Yes, I know that's cruel. But they have an excuse. Maggie Grace doesn't.
Needless to say, the film is at it's best between the moments Maggie Grace is abducted and when she reappears. The horrendous screenplay, however, even affects the excellent Neeson, whose interactions with old CIA/assassin/bodyguard buddies come across as awful as his interactions with his daughter and ex-wife, played by Famke Janssen. Now, I like Famke, I think she's gorgeous. Would I like to tell Famke's agent a thing or two about squandering things? Yes. I also love Luc Besson (director of The Professional - 1994, and The Fifth Element -1997), but I have become increasingly aware that he maybe can't write. Famke Janssen's character, for instance, pops onto the screen in a scene eerily reminiscent of the birthday party scene in Mommie Dearest (1981). She's really, and I mean really, very insistent that her daughter not open Liam Neeson's present because then she'd have to open all of them. And then the next time we see her she's all set to ship off her 17 year old to Paris without a chaperon. Additionally, the action sequences are a little lacking, but I found it quite entertaining to watch Liam Neeson kick a bunch of Euro-trash ass. Most of his dialogue isn't that bad (except for the penis line and "I'd tear down the Eiffel tower for her.") And I found a scene depicting an auction of young sex-trafficked women in an undeground swank hotel quite dark and disturbing---until they announced Maggie Grace as the most priceless and worthy virginal piece of merchandise---and then I laughed.

DVDS!!!

Clownhouse (1989) -- Yes, I had a movie night for this one recently. And it wasn't that frightening. Or interesting. On it's own. The film's reputation precedes it, let's say. And yes, after learning what Victor Salva did with Nathan Forrest Winters make the numerous underwear scenes a bit disturbing. It's also hard to believe that Francis Ford Coppola championed Salva which is how this film came to be made. Basically, Clownhouse is about three brothers who are terrorized by three men that escape from a mental institution and kill three clowns from the circus in town. A radio broadcast announces the escape, stating the three men were upset because they were denied their circus privileges. Really? Maybe I need more of a backstory. Privileges are always denied for a reason. They maybe ate too much canned pudding? Or were exchanging child pornography? Silly clown wannabees. To top it off, they only kinda sorta terrorize three young boys for a good hour with not very good results. It is funny to see Sam Rockwell, however, at such a young age, as this was his film debut.

La Strada (1954) -- I had a movie night for this one as well. I am a Fellini nut and I had never seen this one. For more reasons than one, I would compare it Nights of Cabiria (1957), which also stars Fellini's wife, Giulietta Masina. I prefer Cabiria. La Strada tells the story of a rather 'special' girl sold to a wandering strongman performer, played to greasy effect by Anthony Quinn. Zampano the strongman uses and abuses her but she seems unable to leave him, eventually dying sad and alone when he leaves her. The problem is, it's hard to find much to like about her or Zampano. One of Fellini's attempted ventures into neo-realism, it wasn't my favorite. But that's not to say it was half bad. Masina's head actually does look like an artichoke.

Violence At Noon (1966) -- Another Nagisa Oshima film, this one was a little on the silly side, concerning the exploits of a serial killer and the sexual tensions he had between two women from an old commune they all used to be a part of. I yawned my way through.

Ethan Frome (1993) -- Having just read the novella, I just had to see the 1993 film adaptation. Perfectly cast with the three leads, the film is not quite bad as far as adaptations go. Edith Wharton and Henry James apparently both found the framed story a savage and barbarous convention yet both of their most famous works were framed stories. I find that filmmakers often have a hard time implementing the framed story, and that is exactly where this film falters. John Madden is not the worst director, but definitely not the best. On a good note, he did Mrs. Brown (1997) and Proof (2005); but Mr. Madden also did that horrendous schlock Captain Corelli's Mandolin (2001). Nuff said. Anyhow, Madden inserts that awful 80's actor Tate Donovan, (as a priest, no less), as the frame of the story. This does not work a bit. Liam Neeson is excellent here, as is Joan Allen as Zeenie, the hypochondriac bitch wife, and Patrica Arquette, hot off the press of True Romance (1993) as the nubile young maiden that steals Ethan Frome's heart.

The Girl Most Likely To... (1973) -- I quite like Stockard Channing, and when I found out about this Joan Rivers penned TV film about an ugly girl who has plastic surgery and then goes out for bloodthirsty revenge to all the people that had been mean to her, well, I just had to buy it. The film was everything I hoped for. This may sounds like a strange horror film, but it's a bitchy black comedy. Stockard Channing really does look quite homely before her transformation but the pay off is worth it. Look for Annette O'Toole in a bit part and the entertaining Ed Asner as the police man investigating a string of "accidental deaths."

Tis Pity She's a Whore (1971) -- I had high hopes for what looked like a decent film guised as Eurotrash sleaze. After all, it stars Charlotte Rampling at her most luminous. Long unavailable on DVD till 2008, I happened to have an old clamshell VHS I purchased on Ebay for way too much back in 2003. Additionally, the film is based on Jacobean playwright John Ford's most well known play of the same title. AND it was directed by Giuseppe Patroni Griffi. You know, the Giuseppe Patroni Griffi. Okay, maybe you don't know him, but he happened to direct a film I love called The Driver's Seat (1974), also known as Indentikit and the US VHS edition Psychotic, starring Elizabeth Taylor in what I would call her last great screen performance, and appearances from Gypsy Rose Lee and Andy Warhol. However, this Griffi film has to be the most boring film about incest ever made. The Bible is more racy -- not that that's what I was looking for. At the very least I expected to laugh. But alas. I guess it made incest no laughing matter. I did have to giggle during the opening credits where the film states it was "Freely Adapted" from the John Ford play. Right. Rampling, however, was breathtakingly gorgeous, so it's still worth it to see her, even if the title is the best thing about it.

Beyond the Door (1974) -- A dastardly blatant rip off of The Exorcist (1973) AND Rosemary's Baby (1969), (what ballsy little bastards, huh?) this little shindig stars Juliet Mills as a woman possessed AND impregnated by the devil via a devil-worshipping ex-boyfriend. Sound busy? It is. Mills, of course, is the older sister of Hayley Mills, the child star of the 60's (The Parent Trap-1961; The Trouble With Angels-1966) and whom a younger generation might know from a small role as a love interest for Mr. Belding on the awful TV series "Saved By the Bell." Juliet, however, has this little plum of poop on her resume. The most entertaining elements are the dubbed children which the places the film on par with the best Lucio Fulci extravaganza. Strangely, the prepubescent girl child insists on touting 15 copies or so of Erich Segal's book Love Story everywhere, and the small boy sips Campbell's Green Pea soup through a straw. Does Campbell's even make Green Pea soup? I guess I wasn't inspired enough to research this and figured the filmmaker's were trying to make a spiffy homage to The Exorcist. I had to laugh, the rationale for Mills' possession was that some "weak" people are just victims---which means she's weak because she's a woman and has the ability to get pregnant. I don't know, I think if Satan was really that powerful he would get some evil man pregnant. If you really think about it, didn't Satan miss the boat? Hitler, Stalin, etc? Hell, if he's so set on impregnating a woman we have Ann Coulter these days. Another funny part was that the opening credits reveal the title of the film as The Devil Within Her. I was inspired by this film, however, for a themed movie night: Creepy Pregnant Ladies--more on this later.

The Lodger (1927) -- Another old Hitchcock I've been meaning to watch forever, was quite good. The film was remade with the original star Ivor Novello as a talkie in 1932, again with creepmaster Laird Cregar as the star in 1944, and now this year in 2008. So I've been meaning to see where all the fun started. Also, Ivor Novello was apparently quite the matinee idol in his time, but mostly overseas. Rumor has it he was homosexual, which highlights a lot of strange gay subtext in Hitchcock's film. This original silent was quite entertaining, if not a bit anti-climactic. I hear the 1944 film, which shot Cregar to stardom right before his untimely death, is the one to see.

Red (2008) --- Poor, poor Lucky McKee. What is up with this man? McKee's feature debut, May (2002), stands as one of the best horror films ever made. Afterwards, Mckee also helmed The Woods (2006), which I thought was quite good, despite the fact that it wasn't originally McKee's material and rumor has it the studio pushed McKee around a bit. The Woods didn't get a theatrical release, if I recall, despite starring the excellent Patricia Clarkson and Bruce Campbell. McKee also did, that same year, an entry in the "Masters of Horror" series called Sick Girl starring Angela Bettis (May) and porn star Misty Mundae. Then McKee's next feature, Roman (2006) was also not released in theaters (though McKee wrote it and let Bettis direct). So I was saddened to hear that on his newest feature, Red, McKee was taken off the project as director half way through due to what was reported as creative differences. A Dutch director I am unfamiliar with, Trygve Allistair Diesen, took over to finish filming. Overall, I quite liked most of the film. Starring Brian Cox as a sad old man who is accosted by three youths who shoot his dog Red to death just to be mean, is a touching little revenge movie. Tom Sizemore, Amanda Plummer and Robert Englund all make appearances as white trash parents who try to protect their wayward children. The worst part of Red is the Kim Dickens subplot--I like Dickens but her angle as the hard-nosed reporter is a bit much. Brian Cox is excellent, but strangely doesn't appear as the kind of man I would personally try to mess with. Maybe it's those shit-kickers he wears throughout the film. I was struck by the similar theme this film had with Wendy & Lucy, in that both concern lonely people and the only thing that cares for them, their dog. The 80's wasn't very nice to dogs, if you think about it. Remember Cujo (1983)? Or how about that 1993 film with Ally Sheedy, Man's Best Friend? Especially in comparison with hero kitty films like Cat's Eye (1985) or Sleepwalkers (1992)---I think Stephen King likes cats, as all those are King's works except the Sheedy pic. Anyhow, I like both, but I found the theme strangely interesting, as both highlight that animals are considered property and nothing else.

The Stranger (1946) --- And stranger still, the theme continued in this 40's Orson Welles pic I also happened to watch. In this one, there is also a dog named Red who gets killed, with a young man questioning what the law says about murdering animals. Funny. Anyhow, this dark little noir stars Welles, Edward G. Robinson and Loretta Young and tells the story of a Nazi Hunter tracking a very prestigious Nazi to Connecticut. Welles, a little unbelievably, is the Nazi Robinson seeks. I think I avoided this potboiler for so long because I had read somewhere that Welles tried to get this film made with Agnes Moorhead as the Nazi hunter---so I was disappointed. That would have been an excellent film. Fucking studios. But I quite like Robinson --- between him and Barbara Stanwyck in Double Indemnity (1944), I could wet my pants. Anyhow, this is an excellent little picture. Loretta Young is the weak spot but she has an interesting moment with a pistol. I also enjoyed how Robinson picks up on the Nazi sleaziness over pretentious WASP dinner table babble when Welles claims Marx was not a German, but a Jew. If you like noir, see this one.