The most disgusting and depraved element of a horribly awful film I recently had the misfortune to sit through was learning that the film had a theatrical release. Why? Because the film was made for a niche market---those members of the GLBT community that care little to nothing about quality, characterization or any sort of discernible acumen in the depictions of gay people they seek---that's the sort of people films like this are made for. You've seen them---those boys in the gay bars that know more about how Britney Spears shaves her vagina than they do about their own loving mommas. Anyhow, this film happened to be titled House of Adam, written, directed, produced and marketed by the most egotistical film presence since Shyamalamadingdong---his name is Jorge Ameer, and like Candyman, don't say it too many times. To get a sense of exactly what catastrophic elements came together that caused the derivation of this contumely celluloid to be birthed, I watched the director's commentary, which was almost as long as the film. Jorge Ameer, honey, who the hell told you that you had any kind of talent that warranted the making of not only this, but apparently several other films? Now, in 2009, are we still so damn hungry for lukewarm representations of gay men and women that individuals like Jorge Ameer are granted permission to punish us with alarmingly fallacious characterizations of queer? And get a theatrical release? This shit was worse than soft core porn shown on cable. The worst part is reading reviews of the film---you can tell who's desperately gay enough to like this shit--usually based on the fact that there exists a large majority of gay men that assign demarcations of quality based on the attractiveness (and not talent) of the leading eye candy.
What is the plot of this rank piece of sediment that has so sparked my ire? House of Adam is about a wimpy, poorly dressed, closeted dweeb named Adam who lives in a very small town helping an old sick man run his diner. This old man suspects that Adam has developed some sticky fingers recently and calls on his son, Anthony, to catch Adam in the act of pilfering. A disturbingly strange scene ensues where Anthony cuts his finger in the diner's kitchen and Adam, like a baby rooting at a mother's breast, pops the bloody finger in his mouth in what I thought was meant to be a flirtatious manner. The basic, levelheaded audience member (whether gay or not) should, at this point realize that Adam is a creepy headcase and Anthony is about as appealing as a lobotomized mannequin---if someone stuck my bloody finger in their mouth I'd at least voice some kind of reluctance to hang out with that person again. Some things not worth documenting transpire and the two becomes lovers, though of course on the DL. Anthony becomes a policeman overnight, and Adam is suddenly murdered by three religious redneck fanatics that keep popping up. The religious fanatics are also ludicrous, wandering aimlessly around, drinking beer and reading Leviticus right before the cheesy murder sequence which involves roughing up the couch pillows and beating Adam over the head until he's dead with a leather bound Bible. I know it's a blunt instrument, but I doubt a lethal one. Anyhow, Anthony, saddened, wanders the hills of whatever mountain town the lovers lived in like a mutant from The Hills Have Eyes, while the new couple living in the cabin are witness to some extremely lukewarm and uninspired events trying to show that Adam's spirit is haunting the cabin until his killers are held accountable for their actions. From the little I've described, I'm sure you don't have to think too hard to imagine how that plays out. An insult to intelligence and GLBT people everywhere, the pompous Jorge Ameer also casts himself in a cameo appearance as a real estate agent---proving he is as incompetent in front of the camera as he is behind. If ever I get a whiff of Mr. Ameer's taint on a precious piece of celluloid again, I will run away screaming like a special person avoiding electroshock therapy. The DVD case, of course, has those typical no-name critics from WGNTVLV289 or LILACHORROR.COM to champion the greatness of the film, with the front cover having some such critic stating the film is "A Severed Affair." Now what in the fuck does that mean? I know what severed means, but what exactly does that mean in reference to the movie? My review would state "A Hot Steamy Pile." Now that succinctly says something.
To Mr. Jorge Ameer, because I just know you google your name on a daily basis, you hack---You should stop making films. I may not have any influence whatsoever, but your pitiful existence as an appallingly inept filmmaker will be well voiced in any circles I run in and maybe, just maybe, one day gay people (along with having rights) will also demand honest or at least well written depictions of gay people, especially when dished out by gay people. Fuck, at least not as offensively stupid as you make your own out to be.
Bonjour---my poor abandoned readers, alas, I have been off having various octomom adventures with the BF and family and have thus been unable to rant and rave about recent cinematic uprisings, but I am happy to report that I have not been a stranger to the cinema.
Theatrical Releases:
Shuttle (2008) -- The feature directorial debut of Edward Anderson (the screenwriter of that decent Demi Moore/Michael Caine diamond heist thriller, Flawless - 2007) proves to be a decent, if not entirely polished little tale that slowly and effectively reveals itself as the plot evolves. However, I found most of the tension develops because one is forced to watch four able bodied men and women consistently miss out on more than enough chances to escape from a sadistic situation making them all seem, well, like they deserve what they get. The plot revolves around two young women returning to the US from Mexico on a late flight, and the ominous metro shuttle they board with two young men flirtatiously following. The situation quickly becomes intense when all characters realize that the driver of the shuttle (the effectively creepy
Tony Curran, from Red Road - 2006) is going to rob them, and possibly more. While the plot starts off smart and sassy (the driver sneakily convinces the larger of the two young men to help change a tire only to subsequently lose all his fingers on one hand) it's not long before the shoddily written female characterizations float to the top like a bilious, gassy corpse. Our heroine even gets hold of the gun and neglects to shoot her assailant---keep in mind this is after the driver and his partner (a sneakily placed passenger) have already killed the two men---gets a chance to run around in a grocery store and makes the most laughable effort to alert the authorities, and it goes on from there. I don't even have the energy to write out my frustration with the passive females of Shuttle. The cityscape is effectively creepy, (turns out it was Boston) and like a good film noir, even the uncaring city seems determined to swallow the girls alive. However, too many unrealistic elements (there's no cell phone reception in the hood?) weighs heavily on the film, despite an excellent disturbing ending (which I would have cheered at had this ending been tacked on the end of Taken -- 2009). Additionally, as the BF pointed out after the film, there are way too many easier methods of abducting young women for the sex trade (I'm not ruining anything a smart person wouldn't already derive from the film's poster). I realize that this may be to mislead a jaded audience, however, the shit just doesn't add up. To pick up two young women from the airport on a late flight (that suspiciously don't have prearranged transportation) seems like the most difficult way to lure someone into a trap---too many misnomers. Also, you might giggle at a portrait that looks like it was lifted out of W magazine shoot in Pago Pago, but I don't want to ruin the best part of the film. And kitty litter. Gross.
Gomorra (2008) --- I have heard so many raves about this gritty mafia movie that has swept the film festival circuit that I was certain it would flatten under it's own reputation. Which is not to say Gomorra is a bad film. Based on a book by Roberto Saviano that details the exploits of the modern Italian crime scene (apparently the author is still in hiding) the film is, as critics have already pointed out, a stripped down and unromanticized look at the Italian mafia. I do have a fascination with lifting up colossal cobblestones in the gloom and shining a flashlight at the insects and creatures that thrive in the dark recesses of nature---however, my arm would get tired holding the rock up for two hours. This is a bit how I felt about Gomorra---it's so unromanticized that you realize you are indeed watching greasy, awful men do multiple awful things for two hours. That's it. Kaput. I know that we love to cherish Tony Soprano and Coppola's Godfather trilogy--but in reality, that's what these characters are--they foster anarchy, machismo,
prostitution, and degradation from an undeserved parapet of power revolving around an exorbitant amount of money. Doesn't that seem rather irritating when phrased that way? I spent most of Gomorra asking myself why people put up with such bullshit. And the two young numbskulls featured on the film's poster shooting heavy artillery in their underwear? Well, the film does take some time in getting around to the inevitable, to which characters in the film comment on the trouble taken to dispose of two young miscreants the law obviously doesn't concern itself with protecting. A film that may make you thankful to live in a country without the mafia, in the end, is just a little lengthy and a bit random (as it focuses on several different story lines in connection with the mob) for me to completely get into. You can only watch assholes get away with doing bad things for so long before you go to that special place in your head. Like when George Bush was in office for eight years. You feel me?
The Black Balloon (2008) -- A strange and albeit heartwarming film from the Outback starring the eternally beautiful Toni Collette (also pregnant here, as in Towelhead - 2007), The Black Balloon tells the quiet story of the Mollison family. Collette and husband have two grown boys, one of whom happens to be autistic. The film is basically about the trials and travails of family and also accepting and loving those that are mentally challenged around us. The film does have some surprisingly uncomfortable moments that caused some verbal reactions from me, which is getting rare these days. A birthday fight scene is exceptionally well played. I found the weak point of the film to be supermodel Gemma Ward---who is not such a bad actress, just distractingly strange looking. The way Gemma's eyes are positioned on her head make her look like a lamprey, or one of those deep sea creatures who have their own personal light making appendages as they live too deep in the sea to ever see anything remotely known as light. Or in Gemma's case, remotely known as pretty. Yes, I'm being harsh. But sometimes the world makes me shake my head. She's a supermodel. Wow. All in all, a pretty good film. See it for Toni. Directed by Elissa Down.
The Last House on the Left (2009) -- Now, I have always thought Wes Craven was an awful filmmaker whether or not he had the command of a decent budget, so I was not saddened to see this particular remake. As I recently blogged about the original film, I'll cut to the chase. LHOTL is an effective and engaging revenge thriller with some pretty decent acting, a good soundtrack, and excellent cinematography. The rape sequence is particularly graphic and disturbing and the murderous family dynamics were changed to be a bit more realistic. The weakest point, I found, was Monica Potter. Poor, poor Miss Potter--- I want to like her, but she always does something stupid. She was useless in Saw (2004), contemptible in Along Came a Spider (2001), and that leaves her best performance (that I've been witness to) as Patch Adams (1998)---Now that's sad. It might be the point of the director or producers to show that women (or wealthy white women) are unable to inflict, horrible, violent pain on deserving individuals (you know, like the men that raped and brutally beat your only daughter), as Potter's character continually drops the ball in exacting worthy vengeance (I'm not going to lie, I was hoping for a revamp of that famous fellatio torture scene) but thankfully, Tony Goldwyn (the bad guy from Ghost - 1990) makes up for her lack. I'm still curious to see Dennis Iliadis' first film, Hardcore (2004), in which it sounds like the females aren't so afraid to fuck some shit up.
I Love You, Man (2009) -- I'm not sure I have a whole lot to say for this venture. It's neither astounding, nor horrible (if you haven't seen it, go rent Role Models - 2008 if you need a Paul Rudd fix). I kept thinking throughout this film that I felt bad for nice straight guys---it doesn't seem easy trying to find a friend. I will say this, of all the comparable comedies to come out in this same vein (Role Models, The 40 Year Old Virgin, etc), this film was the most gay positive, with Adam Samberg playing Rudd's younger gay brother. And though it's nice to see Jane Curtin looking good, she's in a wasted role here as Rudd's mom. In the end, Rashida Jones didn't seem like a great match for Rudd and their forced chemistry is hurt by the lack of screen time promoting friendship chemistry between the leading men. Nice try for the bromance. Men are so awkward when you try to portray them as having emotions that have nothing to do with sex, or other activities they don't have to be emotional about. Anything else, and they seem, well, gay. Muahhhh!!
Amarcord (1973) -- I am so thankful I had the chance to see this Fellini masterpiece for the first time in the theater. Fellini's last commercially successful film (that also won him Best Foreign Film) Amarcord (or "I Remember") is a bustling picture full of action and energy that stands as a loving homage to Fellini's life growing up in an Italian coastal town in the 1930's. Typical grandiose Fellini at times, the film is hilarious and heartfelt. As a fellow cinema lover, I appreciated the repeated Gary Cooper references, and touches of Norma Shearer and Jean Harlowe. If you like film you can't help but love Fellini, especially when he's in top form. But don't be too tired--there's a lot to take in, especially if you don't speak Italian. The BF said I remind him of Volpina, the mad nymphomaniac, who looks like Amy Poehler in a fright wig. I'm giggling thinking about that wench as I write this.
Now, I know I have been neglecting writing about the DVDs I have been watching. Stay tuned for an open letter meant to humiliate a director I hope you've never heard of named Jorge Ameer and his sad tripe of celluloid, House of Adam (2006). Please, please don't rent it or anything else from this pompous ass of a director/writer/producer/actor/speaker/cinematographer/pretentious/asshole/moron. Just stay tuned for the word.
Treeless Mountain (2008) -- So Yong Kim's sophomoric effort (which gets its official release in April) has nothing to do with lack of pubic hair, though irritatingly my brain was pickled in testosterone somewhere along the way and it insists on associating this title with lack of pubic hair. I think it's funny. Regardless, I was lucky enough to attend a recent screening of this film and was blown away at how excellent the film was. It made me smile and cry, concerning the exploits of two very young girls in South Korea, Jin & Bin, and their abandonment by their mother, aunt, and an off screen father. The director was in attendance at the screening I was at and peppered throughout the pretentious ignorance of the audience members, the recurring theme of filming with children surfaced several times. One portentous lady exclaimed, "So the girls didn't really know what was going on? You mean, we (the audience) were bringing our own assumptions into what was going on?," to which the cute Ms. Kim slyly shrugged. Yes, film is a manipulation, an art. I don't understand why people get so upset when they realize child actors aren't really all like Dakota Fanning---you generally have to fool children to get the reactions you want---and by the way, no matter how good or bad the actor, there's a whole slew of other people, including the director, that paste together a film. Anyhow, Treeless Mountain is a gripping and beautiful piece of film about two girls, their somewhat abusive aunt, and an eventual return to a somewhat stable existence. Interestingly enough, the film is partially autobiographical. I must make a point to see Kim's first celebrated feature, In Between Days (2006).
Cherry Blossoms (2008) -- Another film that made me an emotional wreck for some reason was German filmmaker Doris Dorrie's new film, Cherry Blossoms. Centering on a long married German couple, Trudi and Rudi, the film opens with Trudi learning that Rudi has a terminal illness. (I didn't quite understand why the physicians insisted on informing his wife and not him, but maybe the German healthcare system is unaware of something we call HIPPA). Anyhow, it turns out that Trudi & Rudi are strangely distant from all three of their children (including a very angry lesbian daughter) and right before packing up to return home from their trip, Trudi unexpectedly dies. Rudi then goes on a touching journey to see Mt. Fuji---turns out Trudi was in love with the Japanese dance art Buto, and out of ignorance and selfishness, made her give up her dream to study it when they married. An interesting and emotional study in loss, love, and what we sacrifice for relationships and children, I cried several times at Cherry Blossoms and was thankful that for me to have children would require Herculean efforts I simply am not interested in exploring. The ungrateful bastards. The actress playing Trudi, Hannelore Elsner, was quite a revelation and I look forward to discovering more of her work, along with director Doris Dorrie.
Watchmen (2009) -- What might stand as the most ridiculous, self-indulgent, ham-fisted, underwhelming, bloated, noxious disappoint of 2009's theatrical releases (for me at least) was this balderdash piece of poppycock I forced myself to sit through this week, causing enough displeasure with cinema that, dear readers, I simply could not bring myself to blog. After my retinas were raped by this harrowing dogmatic drivel, I felt as if I had spiritual diarrhea. This dangerous film had me on the brink of losing hope with humanity, but, my little darlings, I've recovered. My wings still feel clipped but I'm clattering away at the keyboard, feeling a bit like Charly in Flowers For Algernon, however.
Where to begin? Why didn't I like it? Well, it's painfully, insufferably DULL. I discovered this after maybe the 35 minute mark, when I finally gave up on the meandering plot. The more screen time Malin Ackerman (the Silk Spectre) had, the more my blood pressure dipped dangerously low. We could blame the script for blandness, but poor Malin's maligned acting skills when paired with her dull face and plastic personality was the largest crack in the film's foundation, followed swiftly by a dull Patrick Wilson as the Nite Owl, a hammy Jeffrey Dean Morgan as the Comedian, and an atrociously bad Matthew Goode as Ozymandias, the smartest man in the world. Poor Matthew Goode is an example of what the smartest man in the world looks like when written by individuals who are, decidedly, of less than average intelligence or comprehensive reasoning. Not to mention the strange homosexual tensions, (is Matthew Goode supposed to be gay, what with the silk purple everything, Greek laurels and stunningly ugly blonde wig?) and Dr. Manhattan's (Billy Crudup) blue phallus wagging around all over place-- except for the lovely thong he gets to wear in the Vietnam sequences. I guess Napalm would hurt my testicles, too. Perhaps my main problem with EVERYTHING in this film was an extreme lack of clarity---it was pointedly and unforgivably made for die hard fans of the comic series. I wanted some explanations, such as, why is Richard Nixon elected for a THIRD term? I want to know what happened that made it possible for a president to be elected for a 3rd term again. Second, I wanted them to explain what Ozymandias is. I am pretentiously going to declare right now that I guarantee that the core audience of this comic serial doesn't know. (It's the name of a poem by Percy Byshe Shelley). And why, oh why! is Carla Gugino (who's not even forty yet) being made up to play a 67 year old, the original Silk Spectre. Carla has exactly two or three "flashback" sequences. I don't see why they couldn't find a more age appropriate actress if most of her scenes were supposed to be that of a woman nearly 30 years older. The Comedian is also said to be 67 while Rorschach (played by the creepy Jackie Earle Haley) is said to be 35--when for him to look 35 means Rhea Perlman looks 35. And if Gugino is 67 then how old is her daughter? And why this whole overromanticized obsession with Vietnam-Reagan era America that insists on a Baby Boomer certified soundtrack that jarringly wrenches us out of the narrative? Perhaps this time period in America, all those cynical, bitter, insane sociopaths could put on a cloak and become a super hero without any apparent power--but for a generation or two with different fantasies and different dreams, this super hero noir sure misses the mark.
Some awful scenes that made me ball my fists into the theater seat or loudly guffaw:
The repeated sequence of Carla Gugino shouting in a domestic flashback dispute, "I was a super hero goddamnit!"
The flashback sequence where Rorschach's mother screams "I should've had that abortion" when he catches her having relations. --- I laughed long and hard and no one laughed with me. I felt like an asshole and I this was the only satisfaction I was to have during this 3 hour period of time.
The Vietnam sequence where the Comedian spouts some racially charged comments at his knocked up Vietnamese lady friend before shooting her right in the belly. But not before she imploringly says they need to talk (in her broken English).
The "Mars" sequence where Dr. Manhattan has an epiphany claiming Malin Whatsherman is a miracle because she's the product of a sadomasochistic floozy and a woman beater. Mmmhmm. That mean's if Rihanna has a child with Chris Brown, this offspring may also be termed that.
I did not enjoy this film and would gladly donate 3 hours of my life to ensure that director Zach Snyder not get another directing gig. But, as luck would have it, I'm sure he'll be helming a sequel.
Two Lovers (2008) -- James Gray's latest offering makes one ponder who exactly the title is referring to. The film is, in all actuality, about four individuals, all lovers, in their own right, all loving the 'wrong' people. The film seems to be in exercise in poor decision making skills and how it is human nature to want what we can't have. Joaquin Phoenix stars in,urportedly, his last motion picture vehicle, as Leonard, a depressed, suicidal black hole of a man, living with his parents (a lovely Isabella Rossellini and Moni Moshonov) after the dissipation of his relationship with his fiancee, vaguely revolving around both of them being Tay-Sachs carriers and what sounds like what would have been extremely invasive in-laws. The film opens with Leonard jumping into the Bay, only to change his mind at the last minute. Wandering home soaking wet, his mother is wise to his antics, concluding immediately that her son probably had attempted suicide again. As fate would have it, Leonard's parents have invited the Cohen's over for dinner that evening. Mr. Cohen will be purchasing the dry cleaning business that Leonard's father owns. Mr. Cohen also has a lovely daughter, Sandra (model/actress Vinessa Shaw), who is already smitten with Leonard. The gorgeous Vinessa Shaw happens to be the most sympathetic and realistic characterization, however, one comes to judge her taste and intelligence as she doggedly pursues a relationship with a somewhat disinterested and sloppy individual like Leonard. She insists she wants to take care of him and several instances arise where it is mentioned that many young men have sought the hand of Sandra. Well, damn it, what in the weary world does she see in this loser? Leonard has his sights on Michele, (Gwyneth Paltrow), a drug-addled, idiotic, pill-popping mess in need of a hair cut/hair product, along with a reality check. Michele is dating a married man (played with creepy irascibility by Elias Koteas) and at every annoying, whiny moment, ponders uselessly whether or not he would leave his family for her (disgustingly, he has paid for her gorgeous apartment that is in close proximity to his mother). The problem with Paltrow is she's too old for this role to be acting so childish and naive. Or perhaps it bothers me to watch a bunch of late thirtysomethings behaving as if they were 25 years old. Granted, there comes a times in one's life where opportunities converge or topple over onto one another at your very feet--but you must choose wisely or not at all. Leonard does neither. Michele is so wrapped up in her warped, selfish universe that on the eve where she is to run away with Leonard (while he leaves his girlfriend Sandra in the lurch) she predictably goes back to her unhealthy relationship with the married man. The movie's most brilliant and darkest moment is indeed the end, in which I did nearly shed a tear for the duped Sandra (there is also one touching scene between Phoenix and Rossellini that stands out). The feelings this film evoked in me were akin to how I felt watching Richard Widmark in Jules Dassin's Night and the City (1950) -- what a bunch of fucking losers but congratulations for being so effectively distasteful.
The Big Clock (1948) -- Another film in the Universal Noir series I have had the extreme fortune to attend, I loved loved loved this film. Directed by John Farrow (Hondo - 1953), and starring Maureen O'Sullivan (the parents of Mia Farrow), Ray Milland, Charles Laughton, and a stupendously entertaining Elsa Lanchester (who also met the man she would be bearding, Laughton, on this set), The Big Clock is an entertaining little noir with all the superior elements you could ask for concerning the genre; a crime scene magazine editor furiously trying to prevent himself from being framed for a murder his extremely powerful and creepy boss committed.
DVD!! :)
Powder (1995)
I recently had a movie night for director Victor Salva's first film, Clownhouse (1989), the scandalous late 80's clown-horror that had scarier things happening behind the scenes. Putting that all behind us, Salva's tortured sophomoric effort (because it was heavily boycotted) is in all actuality, an excellent piece of filmmaking with an excellent message about humanity. It is only human to read into certain homoerotic elements that I do believe exist in the film, (if you disagree, read some Dyer and learn what reception theory is---be prepared before arguing), but those small instances don't detract from the overall arch of the narrative which concerns the exploits of a timid, hairless albino boy and basically how awful people treat him because he's different. Sean Patrick Flanery turns in an excellent performance as the pale pariah (too bad everything I've seen him in after that was awful, like that silly shanty called Boondock Saints - 1999). Mary Steenburgen, Jeff Goldblum, and Lance Henrickson all turn in moving performances and it's too bad that the director's reputation limited the film. I myself remember my parents being shocked about this film upon it's release (because the director had just served time for pedophilia, etc). What we all need to remember is that Mr. Salva did serve his sentence (see the history of Roman Polanski for comparison) and the film's basic message is about tolerance and acceptance. It is funny to note that though Powder is not supposed to grow hair, he does have eyelashes. The film also got me all choked up, especially in the scene where Jeff Goldblum shares a tender moment with Powder, and also when Lance Henrickson communicates with his dying wife. (I believe the father/son conflict in the Henrickson subplot resonates with a large number of men in the gay community, and there's so much good demonstrated in this film I wish it were more celebrated than it is.) While there are some quite fantastical elements (it helps that Powder has special powers and a genius IQ), the most upsetting element was the fact that Powder is able to tell what people think and feel---that's something I wouldn't wish on anyone. I suppose if I could have special powers I would be more like Carrie White than Powder. C'est la vie.
You'll Like My Mother (1972) -- This facetiously titled snoozer should have been called "You'll Like My Movie" because I didn't. Which is sad, I was kind of into the predictable little story, if only it hadn't suffered from the mildly retarded pacing. Patty Duke (The Miracle Worker - 1962) stars as a heavily pregnant young woman who treks through some awful Minnesota weather to visit the mother of her recently deceased husband who died in Vietnam. Interesting premise, thus far. Topping that, it was filmed in the Glensheen Mansion in Duluth, Minnesota BEFORE the infamous Glensheen Mansion murders and one might assume you'd have a good film in the bucket. Not so. Ms. Duke does alright with the limited material and Rosemary Murphy is delightfully bitchy as a wicked woman with a dirty secret who takes Duke hostage and tries to kill her baby. Richard Thomas and his mole ("The Waltons" ; It - 1990) is also young, creepy, and borderline dull as a murderer/rapist wandering around the mansion and avoiding the police. (BTW, Murphy is still alive and kicking, appearing into two recent high profile films, The Savages - 2007, and Synecdoche, NY - 2008). Too many inconsistencies don't quite add up, like why Murphy has to take away Duke's baby even though she's locked her in a room and shipping her out of town, anyway. And what exactly is an 8 1/2 month pregnant woman doing trekking about all over? Wouldn't you have had the baby first, then visited the stagnant in-laws? All in all, a lesson in tediousness and how to avoid keeping an audience interested. This was the second feature of Creepy Pregnant Lady night.
Baby Blood (1990) - The first feature screened in honor of Creepy Pregnant Ladies in film was just the ticket. Ridiculous, gory, and over the top, the demon baby's voice being the highlight (and comparable to how Jim Carrey talks out of his ass as Ace Ventura), I loved Baby Blood and I am now keen on getting a hold of the 2008 sequel, Lady Blood, penned by and starring Emmanuelle Escourrou. I'm going to guess we see less of Ms. Escourrou's t&a as 18 years have passed since this original little delight.
Boarding Gate (2007) -- I'm not surprised that I actually quite liked this dismissed effort from Olivier Assayas, the man who made the brilliant (in my esteemable opinion) Demonlover (2002). I have grown quite fond of Asia Argento as of late, what with the excellent The Last Mistress (2008), and an intriguing upcoming Jodorowsky project. Boarding Gate is about an ex-prostitute whose new lover hires her to kill her former lover (Michael Madsen). New lover's wife (OMG!) is the one actually running the scenes, causing much difficulty for Argento. The most compelling moment of this film is the dialogue between Argento and Madsen leading up to his death. In essence, this exchange is what makes/breaks the film. I found Argento's heartache over the sexual and mental manipulation over Madsen to be realistic, utterly believable and ultimately, devastatingly human. Her extended final mind-game consists of her working herself up to what she knows she must do. For anyone who's ever been in an unhealthy relationship in which the other's effect on you is much like what a magnet does to a television set, then I'd hope you could appreciate the wonderful Asia Argento in what stands as an overlooked film from master Olivier Assayas (though I didn't really care for Summer Hours - 2008, but more on that some other time).
Vamp (1986) -- I have always been intrigued by Grace Jones. In my mind she stands as one of those androgynous, defining personalities of queer cultural reference from the 70's and 80's, much like Klaus Nomi, David Bowie, Boy George, and maybe even Nina Hagen. It's too bad that she was defined as 'too unique' in New York, forcing her to find fame as model in Paris. I also enjoy the fact that Arnold Schwarzeneggar complained she was "too tough" in the Conan sequel they filmed together. The Devil & Miss Jones.....Anyhow, I had always wanted to see Vamp, but just never got around to it till now. It's not a good film by any means, but I would love to find a poster of the video/DVD release which features Grace in the only intriguing portion of the movie where she does a strange striptease looking like the lovechild of Pennywise and Marilyn Manson. Michelle Pfeiffer's sister, Dedee also stars and she's quite cute. Chris Makepeace (Meatballs, 1979) is annoying and talentless and is unfortunately the film's lead. The plot centers vaguely around some college kids discovering a nest of vampires in a strip joint and vague dilemmas ensue. Ms. Jones has no dialogue, but great makeup. Additionally, the DVD has strange, strange, strange "rehearsal" footage in which the director and Grace Jones are "blocking" the scene in which Jones seduces and bites a young, sexy college kid (who would eventually be played by 19 year old Robert Rusler). A bizarre, lengthy, and downright creepy sequence of a giggling Grace and trying-hard-to-sound professional director Richard Wenk piqued my interest more than the lifeless film. Mr. Wenk hasn't directed much else, and I vaguely remember seeing the unfortunate Just the Ticket (1999), starring Andie MacDowell and Andy Garcia. Andie & Andy, get it.
Sleep Dealer (2008) - The directorial debut of Alex Rivera, Sleep Dealer is an interesting little science fiction film from Mexico that owes a lot to classics of the genre. The title alludes to factories where laborers are hooked up to electrodes designed to simulate work that ships their energy, or "pure labor" where it is needed. Think of it like chatting online, e.g., draining. All borders are sealed off and Rivera's aim seems to point to how technology both connects and disconnects us. Centering around it's main character, Memo Cruz (Luis Fernando Pena), how he is forced to leave small-town life due to the death of his father (which he played an integral part in bringing about) and move to Tijuana to support his family, who, like everyone, is forced to buy their water at extraordinarily high prices in order to water their crops. On his journey, he meets and falls in love with Luz Martinez (Leonor Varela). However, Luz is a Class-A bitch, using her meetings with Memo to post her memories on the Internet so she can start paying back her student loans. Their romance is bit mottled and unbelievable. The film's "climax," if you can call it that, is more of the wet dream type---you were sleeping when it happened. Altogether, an interesting and clever sci-fi film, but one that I suppose I wouldn't be too sad about being remade. I do share the director's passion for dystopic cinema, and that, more often than not, European heterosexual males have been the heroes of post-apocalyptic narratives. It's nice to hear some other voices out there.
Street Fighter: The Legend of Chun-Li (2009) -- Now, I could have hidden in shame and pretended that I hadn't seen this. I know that you cannot go into a film based on a video game and expect anything remotely great. I know this. I'm seasoned. However, I guess I was not fully prepared for the onslaught of stupidity that marched across the theater screen. I'm mostly amazed that this wasn't straight to DVD and hope that any more attempts at resurrecting a "franchise" will be pushed in that direction, for the sake of our children at least. However, looking at the director's (Andrzej Bartkowiak) luridly awful resume I'd suggest he team up with Uwe Boll---why have two talentless, awful directors working separately? At least it would cut down on their output. But yes, Bartkowiak's filmography includes Exit Wounds (2001), Cradle 2 the Grave (2003), and that magnificent opus, Doom (2005). Now, usually, voiceover narration is used (or required) when the images presented to us are unable to transcend themselves into words, such as when a character feels something we could never guess or when the audience may need to be made privy to information that other characters in the film cannot be, so on and so forth. However, Chun-Li herself narrates throughout, unimaginatively describing what is blatantly happening on screen. The opening moments of the film provide us with two different young actresses playing a young Chun-Li---the first little girl is the only one that seems to match her supposed ethnicity. The second girl looks like a Scandi-Russian mix and then there's Kristin Kreuk, a Canadian born actress playing Chun-Li. The ethnicity game continues with our main baddie, Bison (played by Neal McDonough-- the creepy blue-eyed German looking man that gets plopped as angry junior baddies in Hollywood fanfare like Minority Report - 2001, or Timeline - 2003). Bison is supposedly Irish, with a heavy brogue drifting lazily in and out. What really doesn't make sense is why he has an accent as the movie takes pains to explain that his Irish missionary parents came to Bangkok and died when he was infant, leaving him there. I failed to be impressed with the snarling tiger sound that was faintly emitted with every Bison scene as the snarl sometimes made me think someone was trying to turn a persnickety ignition. And then there's Gen (Robin Shou from Mortal Kombat - 1994) who looks like Geraldine Chaplin, teaching Chun-Li the art of something or other. It's all a little vague and bleary, like waking up and answering the phone while the NyQuil's still at work. I also took pity on actress Moon Bloodgood, not only for her nightmarishly awful pseudonym, but also because she had to share the most scenes with Chris Klein, playing an Interpol agent, in one of the absolute worst performances I have ever had the pleasure of witnessing from a once popular actor. With foppish hair and awful saunter, Klein does some god-awful scene chewing, uttering each line like someone held a gun to his head while he read from a teleprompter. I'm guessing Klein was going for a playful/intense Interpol portrayal, but instead he comes off as looking like he wasn't allowed a fix of something until he shot his scenes. Seriously, he looked like he was on something, and whatever it was, it wasn't helping him. Nash out. Let's just hope that any more ventures into resurrecting this storyline are interrupted by this one's lackluster performance at the box office.
DVD
I'm a Cyborg, But That'sOK (2006) Chan-wook Park's followup to his much celebrated Vengeance trilogy is a simple, creative, and whimsical love story about a girl who thinks she's a cyborg and ends up in a mental hospital, slowly starving herself because she believes food will mess up her mechanical entrails. Luckily for her, a handsome young patient at the hospital who believes he can steals people's souls, pays more attention to the young cyborg than the doctors. Realizing she will die if she doesn't eat, he ingeniously convinces her that just because she's a cyborg doesn't mean she can't be OK. A cute, gorgeously shot little love story starts out high and tends to fizzle out towards the end as if not knowing which direction to go. Overall, not a bad film from the South Korean master.
Bubba Ho-Tep (2002) -- For some reason, I had neglected to see this until now. And I have to say, overall I was a little disappointed. I recently attended a screening of My Name Is Bruce (2008), where Bruce Campbell showed up to discuss his new directorial effort. Questions were asked about a sequel to Bubba Ho-Tep, and apparently, due to creative differences with director Don Coscarelli, Ron Perlman will be filling Campbell's shoes. What I don't understand is why exactly there is such a cult following surrounding this particular film. Campbell plays an Elvis impersonator wallowing away in a nursing home, claiming he's the real King himself, while his buddy, Jack (played hilariously by Ossie Davis), claims to be JFK (the bastards dyed his skin black). A few ingenious moments don't make up for lack of everything else in this dark, not terribly funny comedy. I suppose I was disappointed because I felt all the elements were there, but something was lacking and I wasn't very engaged with the otherwise intriguing story about a black JFK and an old Elvis trying to stop a soul-sucking red-neck Egyptian mummy in Texas.
The Last House on the Left (1972) --- So, I had to blow the dust off my old VHS copy of this original video nasty, the directorial debut of horror helmer Wes Craven, due to the re-make opening next week. (By the way, the term "video nasty" is from the UK, stemming from an 80's Christian movement of moral values that concerned itself with keeping violent films away from children as it was much easier to get a hold of tapes than seeing films in theater). Now, I am not one to champion remakes, but even when he has an actual budget to work with, I don't think Wes Craven is the best person to execute his own ideas. He's just not a good filmmaker. I am one of the few horror buffs that probably doesn't like A Nightmare on Elm Street (1984) and I despise the Scream films. (I do however LOVE The People Under the Stairs - 1992). Needless to say, I loved the remake of Craven's early 80's low budget horror, The Hills Have Eyes. Having just watched House, I'm actually pleased to see this revamped. Throughout most of the original film, I kept expecting it to veer off into Pink Flamingos (1972) territory as the acting is so overwrought and the music glaringly inappropriate. The acting also leaves much to be desired. Back in the day, sexploitation filmmakers did what was natural---they used actors that were already part of the genre or the sex film industry. The father, Dr. Collingwood is played by Richard Towers, who pops up as a john in shock doc Let Me Die a Woman (1978). And Mari, the murdered daughter of the Collingwoods is Sandra Cassel, a woman who may or may not have starred in several porn films under various pseudonyms. The most interesting cast members are Jeramie Rain, playing the murderous Sadie, looking like she just stuck her finger in a socket while posing as Pink's stunt-double. Ms. Rain was married to Richard Dreyfuss until 1995 and had three kids with him. And then the main baddie is played by David Hess, who just happened to write quite a few songs for Elvis Presley, English screenplays for Fassbinder, and also starred in similarly themed video nasty, The House on the Edge of the Park (1980), from director Ruggero Deodato (Cannibal Holocaust - 1980). While The Last House on the Left hasn't aged well, some of the violent sequences are a bit sadistic and shocking. I vividly remembered the fellatio scene and was still a little creeped out by it this time around. However, I was extremely annoyed by the two young women that get murdered---they really don't do very much to help themselves. And the fight sequences are, well, just poorly choreographed and awful. Apparently, Craven based his debut on Ingmar Bergman's The Virgin Spring (1960) and the resemblances are pretty apparent. I did enjoy that Craven, to avoid an X rating from the MPAA (he would have had to cut more than 20 minutes of footage) had a friend of his obtain an "R" rating seal of approval and distribute it as is. That's ingenious. Truly one of those films where reputation surpasses the quality, the making of, and cultural reaction to the film are most interesting aspects of all. And nice touch with the creepy "Sweet Child Of Mine" cover in the preview for the remake. Let's see if Dennis Iliadis' effort is any good---his first film as director, Hardcore (2004), is also on my list of things to see, concerning two young women in a Greek brothel that fall in love and hit the road toting guns and drugs.
Those of you with the gift of literacy will see I have a passion for Sigourney Weaver and cinema. If you want to know more, you can ask, or I invite you to make assumptions based upon the content of the presented material. I am a happily married homosexual (yes, legally married) with a wonderful husband who puts up with my excessive cinephilia magnificently.
