10/30/14: Down in a Hole

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31 Days of Halloween, Ben Ketai, Beneath, Brent Briscoe, cave-in, Chris Valenziano, cinema, coal mining, David Shackelford, environmental impact, Eric Etebari, film reviews, films, horror, inspired by true events, Jeff Fahey, Joey Kern, Kelly Noonan, Kurt Caceres, Mark L. Young, miners, Movies, multiple writers, mysterious cave, Patrick Doody, possession, trapped underground

It’s hard to go wrong when you have a location that’s as fundamentally creepy as a deep, dark mine with a tragic past, which makes Ben Ketai’s Beneath (2013) all that more disappointing. Despite an incredibly solid backstory and a great location, the film ultimately sinks thanks to some generic characterization and truly confusing plot elements. There’s the notion that a much better film is trapped in here, fighting to get out…a film that, alas, never quite manages to see the light of day.

We begin with a now de rigueur bit where we’re thrown into the chaos of the present only to travel back, via flashback, to what got us to that point of no return. In this case, we begin the film proper with Sam (Kelly Noonan), an environmental lawyer, going to see her coal miner father, George (an unrecognizable Jeff Fahey), at his “office.” George is retiring after spending over thirty years below the ground and Sam decides to join her father and his mates on his last day in the mine, partially as a show of solidarity but mostly to prove she isn’t “soft.”

The miners are the sort of mixed bunch that’s pretty standard for this sort of exercise, highlighted by Randy (Joey Kern), who seems to be an old flame of Sam’s, Masek (Erik Etebari), Mundy (Brent Briscoe), Torres (Curt Caceres), Van Horn (David Shackelford) and Grubbs (Mark L. Young).  While they’re down in the depths of the mine, two members of the crew end up breaking through into a previously unknown chamber, which has the effect of triggering a cave-in. After the dust and rubble clear, the group is left with no choice but to retreat to the safe confines of the emergency room, a sterile, white beacon of hope in the darkness.

As is always the case, however, it’s not as simple as just sitting put and waiting for help to arrive. For one thing, the crew members who initially caused the cave-in are still missing, presumed lost in the disaster. The group can hear strange noises in the darkness, however, some of which sound suspiciously like human screams. They go out to explore, leaving Sam and one of the injured crew members behind: she ends up joining them (of course) and the group splits up to explore the area, looking for any sign of the missing miners or, at best, some sign of a way out. When they end up breaking through into a formerly closed-off area of the mine, however, an area that was the sight of a bygone mining disaster that stranded nineteen miners below the surface, George and his crew will come to know the full meaning of terror. For something lurks in the darkness with them…something that may not be entirely human but is most certainly entirely malevolent.

Let’s get the good stuff out of the way right off the bat: Beneath has a truly killer location and the mining angle is not only fascinating but well-realized and truly creepy. The emergency room is a great visual, especially when juxtaposed with the absolute darkness of the surroundings and there’s a genuine sense of isolation and claustrophobia that permeates nearly every shot. The ensemble cast is interesting, even if the characters are all as lightly sketched as possible, and Noonan does a fine job as Sam: there’s nothing about her character that stands out (aside from her rather noteworthy ability to leave an injured comrade behind when necessary) but she makes a more than capable hero. Fahey, despite being the marquee name on the bill, turns in a largely anonymous performance as George: it actually took me quite a while to realize that was him and there was nothing about the performance that really stood out in my mind: it was workmanlike, no better or worse.

The biggest issue with Beneath ends up being the sheer familiarity of the proceedings: everything plays out in such a predictable fashion, particularly the completely played-out “twist” ending, that the film always feels too familiar. There’s very little individual identity, aside from the setting: this pretty much boils down to just another “possessed people” story, complete with every inherent cliché of that subgenre. Beneath does nothing new with the formula whatsoever and actually manages to muddy up the proceedings with an unnecessarily confusing second half that sees more red herrings and double-crosses than a spy novel. All of the promise of the initial idea (a formerly sealed-up mine) is completely lost in yet another film where actors with “scary faces” turn on their peers, lather, rinse, repeat. Perhaps this formula might still possess some ability to scare if this weren’t, roughly, the billionth time this trope had been trotted out. By this point, it’s so tired that it snores.

I really wanted to love Beneath, mostly because that location and mythology about the lost miners is so wonderful and evocative. Ultimately, however, the film that played in my head was much more interesting than the one that played on the screen: there was a mountain of potential here but too little of it actually made its way from visualization to reality. I still think there’s a really scary, supernatural film to be made about miners trapped in a cave-in: Beneath isn’t that film but it could have been, which is kind of a shame.

 

10/29/14 (Part Two): Now THAT’S a Spider, Man!

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31 Days of Halloween, Abbott and Costello, Alexis Kendra, Big Ass Spider!, cinema, Clare Kramer, exterminator, film reviews, films, friends, giant insects, giant spiders, great openings, Greg Grunberg, Gregory Gieras, horror, horror-comedies, King Kong, Lin Shaye, Lloyd Kaufman, Lombardo Boyar, Mike Mendez, military coverup, Movies, pest exterminator, Ray Wise, sci-fi, Where Is My Mind?

As a tinkling, piano-led cover of the Pixies iconic “Where Is My Mind?” plays on the soundtrack, we watch as Alex (Greg Grunberg), clad in exterminator’s overalls, strides in slow motion through absolute chaos: soldiers fire at something behind him, people run away screaming and buildings collapse into rubble everywhere. And then, we see it: a massive spider, as big as a house, sits atop a skyscraper like an arachnid King Kong. It strikes a helicopter out of the air with one giant foreleg, sending it flaming to the ground as the screen cuts to black. Text comes up on the screen: 12 hours earlier.

This is the first three minutes of Mike Mendez’s Big Ass Spider! (2013) and let me assure you: it is three absolutely glorious, nearly perfect minutes. If the rest of the film fails to completely live up to that decidedly high bar, well, that’s one of the prices paid for ambition. From the title on down, there’s nothing about BAS! that necessarily screams “must-see”: if anything, the film seems like it would be nothing more than a SyFy-esque romp with serviceable effects, some stupid laughs and lots of cheese. Quite the contrary, however, Mendez’s film has plenty of heart and is non-stop fun: it’s the furthest thing from perfect but it’s also utterly charming and, in the end, that’s always going to win me over.

Our hero, Alex, is a pest exterminator who’s ended up in the hospital after coming across the business-end of a brown recluse spider during a house call. He’s a perpetually nice guy but he’s also sort of a clumsy doofus: his attempts to flirt with a nurse (Alexis Kendra) are awkward, to say the least, and he always seems one misstep away from complete chaos. Alex gets called into action when the hospital administrator approaches him about an issue: “something” appears to be loose in the hospital and they want Alex to kill it, an offer he gladly takes up in order to wipe his exorbitant bill clean. When he learns that the creature appears to be a large spider, Alex feels he’s more than up to the task: “I become a spider to catch a spider.”

As it turns out, however, Alex doesn’t really know what he’s up against. You see, this is no abnormally large spider, as we come to see: this thing is obviously some sort of mutated monster, an acid-spraying, lightning-fast nightmare that uses the hospital’s ventilation system to move from victim to victim. Suspicions are confirmed when the military quickly shows up, led by no-nonsense Major Braxton C. Tanner (Ray Wise). Turns out that the spider in question was actually part of a government experiment that went awry (natch) and they’re now faced with a creature that will continue to grow, unchecked, until they can destroy it.

With the help of his faithful partner (and resident security guard) Jose (Lombardo Boyar), along with Lt. Karly Brant (Clare Kramer), a soldier who’s a terrible shot but seems to have a crush on the exterminator, Alex pursues the rapidly growing spider from the hospital, into the sewers and, finally, onto the very streets of the terrified metropolis. To destroy this dreadful abomination, Alex is gonna needs lots of help, some hardcore firepower…and more than a little luck.

Despite coming out of the gate strong (incredibly strong, to be fair), BAS! wasn’t the grand slam that I was hoping it would be, although it still ended up being a ton of fun. There’s so much about the film that really works that it’s easier to gloss over the elements that don’t, chief among them being the often tedious relationship between Alex and Jose. For the most part, Jose exists as a gentle Mexican stereotype, never mean-spirited, per se, but ridiculously clichéd, none the less. His constant banter gets really grating, after a while, as does the ham-fisted Abbott and Costello routine that Grunberg and Boyar effectively beat into the ground. Although I didn’t find their interaction to be as noisome by the film’s final third (they actually become a rather cute duo), there’s an awful lot of corn to wade through to get there. The film could also get a little silly, at times, and I noticed that the CGI tended to get dodgier the bigger the spider got: by the time it’s car-sized, we’re squarely in SyFy territory, effects-wise.

But these are all minor quibbles, ultimately, the kinds of issues that plague pretty much any B-movie. For the most part, BAS! hits all of its beats and manages to maintain a breezy, good-natured sense of humor that keeps things from ever getting overly serious…not that a film about a giant spider could ever be overly serious, mind you, but you get the point. Grunberg, most notable as one of the “heroes” on the bygone “Heroes” show, is pretty great as the lead here and ably carries the film: he’s a perfect combination of innocence and sass, never so smarmy as to be insufferable, yet steely enough to be believable. It’s also nice to see Wise play the straight guy, for a change: his take-charge Major is still recognizably Wise but it’s a much flintier version than we normally get. I also really like the ending, which gives the perfect set-up for a sequel (“What’s the biggest cockroach you’ve ever seen?”) without seeming too obvious.

If anything, Big Ass Spider! is a gleeful throwback to the era of good-natured, drive-in flicks, the kind of film that goes perfectly with a lukewarm sixpack of cheap beer, a carload of friends and a warm, summer night. It won’t reinvent the wheel, technically speaking, but it doesn’t really need to (or mean to), either. If the thought of a Volkswagon-sized spider rampaging through a city park and eating a pervy jogger played by Troma head Lloyd Kaufman puts a smile on your lips, this is absolutely the film for you. I might dislike real spiders with a fervor approaching religious zeal but I’m happy to hang out with this webcrawler any day of the week.

10/29/14 (Part One): Live By the Swatter, Die By the Stinger

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31 Days of Halloween, aliens, Brooke Nevin, Christopher Marquette, Deborah Geffner, E. Quincy Sloan, father-son relationships, flashbacks, giant bugs, giant insects, horror-comedies, human-spider hybrids, Infestation, Jim Cody Williams, Kyle Rankin, Linda Park, mutations, Ray Wise, reluctant hero, Wesley Thompson, writer-director, zombies

If there’s one thing that’s proven itself a time-tested, dependable trope in the sci-fi/horror world, it’s giant bugs attacking defenseless humans. It’s pretty much a no-brainer: most folks aren’t particularly fond of insects under the best of circumstances and the ones that are probably wouldn’t like them so much if they were the size of large horses. There’s something about bugs, in general, that’s almost alien: it’s no coincidence that so many filmmakers regularly use insectile elements in depictions of monsters and extraterrestrials.

Since the golden age of the giant bug movie in the ’50s, we’ve been treated to a pretty impressive menagerie of creepy crawly-focused films: audiences have thrilled as giant ants, spiders, wasps, cockroaches, scorpions, praying mantis, moths and ticks have all laid waste to the vestiges of human civilization. Science can’t help us…the military is defenseless…not much you can do about an “enemy” that outnumbers you a million to one, is there? To this long tradition of giant bug films, proudly add writer-director Kyle Rankin’s Infestation (2009), a snappy little horror-comedy that manages to overcome some rough patches and emerges as a fun choice for fans of the subgenre.

We begin “in the shit,” as it were, with an office building full of cocooned bodies and strange, beetle-like creatures roaming the halls, feeding on the captives. Our hero, Cooper (Christopher Marquette), has just fought his way out of his silken prison and has begun to free his co-workers, including Maureen (Deborah Geffner) and Jed (Jim Cody Williams). Via flashback, we learn that Cooper was actually sort of a lazy, do-nothing douchebag and that Maureen, his supervisor, had just fired him prior to the “event” that landed them all in their current predicament. That’s right, folks: we have ourselves another reluctant hero.

After freeing Maureen’s daughter, Sara (Brooke Nevin), Cooper leads the group, which now contains Leechee (Linda Park), Al (Wesley Thompson) and Al’s son, Hugo (E. Quincy Sloan), towards the presumed safety of his estranged survivalist father Ethan’s (Ray Wise) fortified bunker. All around them, the world seems to have gone to hell in a handbasket: giant wasp-things patrol the skies, swooping down to carry helpless victims away, while the beetle-creatures viciously attack anything they can hear, as they appear to be blind. To make matters worse, anyone who’s stung by one of the wasps becomes infected and gradually becomes a terrifying human-spider hybrid, adding a bit of a zombie element to proceedings.

Once at his father’s house, however, Cooper learns that Ethan isn’t particularly happy to see him. A power struggle ensues between father and son as both try to control the future of the group: Ethan wants to press on and find more survivors, while Cooper wants to plunge into the dark depths of the creatures’ nest and take on their queen, all in a desperate bid to safe humanity. Three guesses as to which path gets chosen and the first two, of course, don’t count.

For the most part, Infestation is lots of fun: the action is brisk and zany, the effects are actually really good (the human-spider hybrids are actually kind of amazing and made the 10-year-old boy in me super excited) and the cast is quite good. It’s always good to Ray Wise in anything and he certainly doesn’t disappoint here, turning in one of his trademark wise-ass/tough-guy roles but with enough paternal tenderness to sell his relationship with Cooper. Nevin holds her own as Sara, proving a gutsy, consistently interesting foil for Cooper. To be honest, only Marquette had to grow on me: for the first third of the film or so, I found Cooper to be nearly insufferable and I kept hoping that he’d get eaten and leave Sara as the defacto hero. No such luck, it turns out, although he did gradually reveal himself to be a more likeable character. A lot of this has to do with the writing, no doubt, but Marquette has a particular comic style that often reminded me of comedian Nick Swardson and could, in large doses, run rough-shod over the rest of the cast.

While the dialogue wasn’t always great and the film could, on occasion, be both clunky and inconsistent (the tone could swing wildly within the same scene, sometimes to the detriment of said scene), I really found myself drawn in by the energy and good-natured sense of fun. By the time everything wrapped-up with a gleefully gonzo homage to Aliens (1986), a set-up for an obvious sequel (Hugo looks off-screen, exclaims, and it cuts to credits) and a super-catchy Brit-poppy song over the end credits, I found myself quite fond of the film. While Infestation can, at times, have a bit of the feel of a Syfy film (albeit one of the better ones), it constantly strains against its limitations and is never less than entertaining. The biggest complement that I can pay the film is to say that I would gladly watch the (hopefully) inevitable sequel: if these are our new insect overlords, I’ll be happy to greet them with open arms.

10/28/14 (Part Two): Leave Your Brain At the Door

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31 Days of Halloween, Adelaide Clemens, America Olivo, Beau Knapp, biker gang, cinema, Daniel Pearl, David Cohen, Derek Magyar, extreme violence, film reviews, films, George Murdoch, gory films, hostage situation, isolated estates, isolation, kidnapped, Laura Ramsey, Lee Tergesen, Lindsey Shaw, Luke Evans, Movies, No One Lives, psycho killers, Ryuhei Kitamura, The Midnight Meat Train, The Texas Chainsaw Massacre, Trojan horse, Versus, wrestlers, WWE

There’s nothing that frustrates or irritates me quite as much as a film that completely squanders its potential. Films that are consistently bad can sometimes be entertaining, in their own rights, but a movie that manages to scale the heights before plummeting to the depths all within the same 90 minute time span really gets my goat. Films like this can take many forms: top of the class in one aspect, class dunce on others…great plot, crummy filmmaking…solid film with an excruciating ending/twist that manages to ruin everything that came before…by this point in my film-viewing, I’ve seen just about every permutation of this issue and it never ceases to cut me to the core each time. It’s like a runner who leads the marathon only to blow out his/her knee at the finish line, crumpling into a broken, sobbing heap mere inches from victory.

Case in point: Ryuhei Kitamura’s ridiculously uneven No One Lives (2012). After (almost literally) blowing me away with the jaw-dropping ode to grievous bodily mayhem that was his adaptation of Clive Barker’s The Midnight Meat Train (2008), I found myself eagerly awaiting  the Japanese gorehound’s next descent into horror. Where Meat Train was a consistent, if hammer-headed, effort, No One Lives is more of a rollercoaster of badass/suckitude: for every scene like the completely unforgettable “Trojan horse” bit, there’s a block of dialogue so poorly written that it comes across like lines from a badly translated video game. For every ingenious plot twist and thrilling kill scene, there’s an actor so extravagantly terrible that they rip the viewer kicking and screaming from the film and deposit them back into the cold water of reality. Very rarely have I found myself watching a film that could, literally, have me jumping from my seat, fist triumphantly raised one minute, only to be seconds from turning the damn thing off the next moment. Believe me when I say that getting through No One Lives is an endurance match, a trial which ends up having very little to do with the ocean of extreme gore that runs through the film. Would it surprise you to discover that the film was produced by the WWE? Me neither…me neither…

From the get-go, No One Lives seems to jump us into several simultaneously occurring storylines, all of which will come to make sense in due time. We meet a terrified young woman, Emma Ward (Adelaide Clemens), as she runs frantically through the woods before getting caught in a rope trap. We also meet what appear to be a husband (Luke Evans) and wife (Laura Ramsey) as they take a car trip through the countryside: as they drive, we get some hint of trouble in their relationship, perhaps something to do with infidelity. Finally, we witness a biker gang, led by Hoag (Lee Tergesen), as they rob a wealthy family’s home: when the family returns unexpectedly, psychotic gang member Flynn (Derek Magyar) flies off the handle and executes them all post-haste, including a young child. When the gang heads to a local bar to blow off some steam, they end up running into the husband and wife, whom Flynn seems to take an instant dislike to.

From this point on, one of No One Lives greatest strengths (sometimes its only strength, to be honest), is the consistently surprising ways in which this characters all manage to collide together. No one, as it turns out, are really who they appear to be, least of all the husband and wife, which leads to some genuinely surprising revelations. Once the big reveals are out of the way, the film ramps up into something that approximates Adam Wingard’s You’re Next (2011), as the gang find themselves at the mercy of a foe who’s not only their equal but their better in almost every way. Blood will spill (lots and lots of blood), loyalties will be tested and secrets will be revealed. Who is the mysterious young woman from the beginning? What’s the husband’s connection to everything? Why the hell is Flynn such an obnoxious, insane asshole? The answer to these, and many more, can be found within. But remember: as the title points out, no one lives…at least, not without a good fight.

Here’s the thing about this movie: while No One Lives is technically well-made – Kitamura makes excellent use of legendary cinematographer Daniel Pearl, the cameraman behind a legion of classic films, including The Texas Chainsaw Massacre (1974) – and features ferocious action scenes and some incredibly well-staged gore effects, the film is also nearly brain-dead, at times, relying on contrived plot elements that stink to high heaven and constantly reveal the pitiful wizard behind the curtain. In particular, the psychopathology of the main villain is so loopy, so head-smackingly stupid, that it manages to drag the whole film right into the gutter. Ditto the frequently moronic dialogue: screenwriter David Cohen has but one film to his credit, which might be a blessing in disguise. The awful dialogue is made even more reprehensible when compared to some of the genuinely brilliant plot developments: did Cohen actually write the whole script, just the dialogue or just the story? At times, it feels like there were several cooks in the kitchen, none of whom were going off the same recipe.

Did I mention before how frustrating this is? Let me reiterate: there is nothing quite as frustrating as witnessing something as truly awe-inspiring as the “Trojan horse” setpiece (I would never dream of ruining the surprise but suffice to say that my jaw literally fell open during the sequence like some kind of cartoon character) only to have it followed by some of the worst, most wooden acting in the history of the business. I’ll admit that I got nervous when the WWE was listed as producer on the film (wrestlers and high-minded cinematic fare very rarely mix, after all) but the real puzzler comes from the fact that only one of the actors in the cast, George Murdock (aka Brodus Clay) appears to be a professional wrestler by trade…and he wasn’t even one of the film’s worst offenders! Topping the Hall of Shame here has to be Derek Magyar who manages to make the character of Flynn so completely silly and unbelievable that he loses any impact whatsoever: when you have a character who savagely massacres a family yet fails to possess any actual menace whatsoever, you may have a big problem.

Despite the cavernous depths to which No One Lives sinks, however, I still found myself torn between complete condemnation and grudging respect. When the film is good, it’s great: no two ways about it. The action scenes are genuinely visceral and nasty and some of the twists are incredibly smart. Luke Evans makes a decent enough “hero,” even if he often seems a bit bland, although he manages to carve out a handful of memorable scenes, one of my favorites being the bit where he gets picked up by a car full of frat boys: “This should be fun,” he leers at the camera, and for once, we wholeheartedly believe him. Lee Tergesen is pretty good as the gang leader, although many of his best scenes are effectively cancelled out by the ridiculously over-the-top performance by Magyar. Clemens also acquits herself fairly well, getting one really great scene where she weighs the pros and cons of aligning herself with the bikers (the lesser of two evils, we suppose) before realizing that the odds suck no matter what. I can’t help but feel that more Clemens and less of the others (particularly Magyar) might have helped matters to no end.

For all of its victories, however, No One Lives is nearly suffocated by its missteps. Unlike The Midnight Meat Train, No One Lives is a completely inconsistent mess, full of dreadful dialogue, terrible acting and some truly stupid plot developments. For all of that, however, I would feel remiss if I didn’t recommend this, if only in some tiny way, to hardcore gore fans: folks who’ve become jaded on violence in horror films would do well to give No One Lives a shot, as several of the setpieces are thoroughly unique, hardcore and pretty damn amazing: not to beat a dead horse but that “Trojan horse” scene…yowza! Ultimately, No One Lives is a decent enough film, all things considered, but that ends up being a pretty back-handed compliment when the film had the makings of a modern classic. Here’s to hoping that if Kitamura ever goes back to the horror well, he decides to use Meat Train instead of No One Lives as a template.

10/28/14 (Part One): Gollum By Day, Genius By Night

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31 Days of Halloween, Andy Serkis, black comedies, Cherry Tree Lane, Christopher Ross, cinema, David Legeno, Doug Bradley, estranged siblings, farmhouse, favorite films, feuding brothers, film reviews, films, gunfighters, horror, horror-comedies, isolated estates, Jennifer Ellison, Jonathan Chan-Pensley, kidnapped, Laura Rossi, Logan Wong, Movies, Paul Andrew Williams, Reece Shearsmith, Steven O'Donnell, The Cottage, The Ransom of Red Chief, Unfinished Song, writer-director

Let’s all take a moment to praise Andy Serkis, shall we? While many film-goers will know Serkis as the man behind the mo-cap suit for such blockbusters as Peter Jackson’s Lord of the Rings and Hobbit films (Gollum), his King Kong adaptation (the big fella, himself) and the Planet of the Apes remakes (Caesar), Serkis is actually a well-established British actor with a 25-year career that encompasses everything from television to dramas and biopics to more explicitly genre fare. He’s an incredibly gifted performer who manages to bring an impish sense of mischief to each of his roles, whether he’s portraying Blockheads frontman Ian Dury in Sex & Drugs & Rock & Roll (2010) or infamous grave-robber William Hare in Burke and Hare (2010).

Similar to larger-than-life personalities like Ron Perlman and Bruce Campbell, Serkis is the kind of actor that can enliven just about any production: in the right film, he’s pretty much unstoppable. Luckily for us, writer-director Paul Andrew Williams’ The Cottage (2008) is the right film in every way possible: outrageously funny, uncompromising, suitably vicious when necessary and featuring an outstanding supporting cast, The Cottage is a nearly flawless thrill-ride that proves one thing above all: we need more Andy Serkis and we need more now!

Serkis stars as David who, along with his rather dim-witted brother, Peter (Reece Shearsmith), has just kidnapped Tracey (Jennifer Ellison) in order to hold her for ransom. In the best Ransom of Red Chief tradition, however, Tracey is a living nightmare: the foul-mouthed, perpetually sneering step-daughter of mobster Arnie, Tracey is more of a handful than either brother could have imagined, managing to clobber them psychologically (and physically) at every possible opportunity. In short order, we come to discover that Arnie’s son, Andrew (Steven O’Donnell), is in on the kidnapping with David and Peter, although he proves equally inept. The four hole up in an isolated cabin in the woods, as far from civilization as possible.

The situation manages to get even worse when it’s revealed that Arnie knows just where the bungling criminals are hiding and has dispatched a lethal pair of Asian hitmen (Logan Wong, Jonathan Chan-Pensley) to send them to the great here-after and recover his beloved step-daughter. When Tracey manages to get free, taking Peter hostage, it looks like the end of the road for our Keystone Kriminals. The pair end up at a mysterious neighboring farm, however, a residence that bears a suspicious resemblance to a Betty Crocker version of the Sawyer farmhouse in The Texas Chainsaw Massacre (1974): as any genre fan worth their salt knows, the party is just getting started. Soon, everyone will be locked in a desperate life-or-death struggle with a living monster that doesn’t take kindly to trespassers: who will survive and what will be left of them, indeed!

From time to time, a film will grab me by the lapels and shake the stuffing out of me, requiring my immediate and unwavering attention: The Cottage was one of those films. Truth be told, I was hopelessly head-over-heels for the film by the 20 minute mark, thanks to a brilliant script and some of the best dialogue I’ve heard in ages. The acting is impeccable, with Serkis and Shearsmith bringing the house down as the bickering brothers. For her part, Ellison is simply magnificent: fuck “mean girls”…Tracey is THE mean girl, hands down. Abrasive, cunning, wheedling, strong and take-charge, Tracey is the last thing you usually expect to see in a horror film: a strong female character. There is real joy to be found in the ways she mercilessly wears David and Peter down: to be honest, had the film just consisted of the kidnapping angle, minus the added slasher aspect, I would have been just as happy…the film is that good.

But then, of course, I would have been robbed of the supreme pleasure of the latter half of the film. Suffice to say that Paul Andrew Williams is just as adept with the pure horror elements as he is with the comedy elements: when the film takes off the gloves and squares up its shoulders, it’s one mean bastard, no two ways about it. Eviscerations, a shovel to the mouth, pick axes…The Cottage doesn’t skimp on the grue, although it never feels overly oppressive or dark, thanks to the always prevalent comedic elements.

Along with the brilliant script and acting, however, The Cottage looks and sounds like a million bucks. While Christopher Ross’ cinematography is exquisite, one of the film’s biggest weapons is Laura Rossi’s amazing score. Similar to Danny Elfman’s whimsical Beetlejuice (1988) score, Rossi’s work in The Cottage helps set a nearly fairytale-like tone that makes for a bracing, fascinating mash-up with the more intense elements. An Oscar nominee for her work in Unfinished Song (2012), Rossi is handily responsible for much of the film’s mood at any given time and the music here really stands out.

Truth be told, I’m hard-put to find anything really bad to say about The Cottage: gonzo energy, great performances, genuine humor, fully developed characters, a perfect ending, endlessly fun…there’s not really much more I could ask for, to be honest. By the time the film had finished, I was already ready to start it all over again: it really is that good. Even though Williams doesn’t dabble in horror very often (his only other horror entry, thus far, was the vicious home-invasion thriller Cherry Tree Lane (2010); he’s more known for dramas like London to Brighton (2006) or Unfinished Song), his results are so good that it really makes me wish he’d spend more time with the scary stuff. I’m not greedy, though: when you’ve got a filmmaker as talented as Williams and an actor as good as Serkis, you pretty much take whatever you’re given. In the case of The Cottage, we end up receiving one hell of a good film.

10/27/14: Disease as Love, Death as Eroticism

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'70s films, 31 Days of Halloween, Allan Kolman, alternate title, apartment-living, auteur theory, Barbara Steele, body horror, Canadian films, Cathy Graham, cinema, David Cronenberg, Film auteurs, film reviews, films, Fred Doederlein, horror films, Invasion of the Body Snatchers, Joe Silver, Joy Coghill, Lynn Lowry, Movies, parasites, Paul Hampton, possession, rape, Ronald Mlodzik, set in the 1970s, sexual violence, Shivers, Silvie Debois, Society, Susan Petrie, They Came From Within, Vlasta Vrana, writer-director, zombie films, zombies

In the world of horror filmmaking, it’s not uncommon for fledgling directors to first cut their teeth on low-budget zombie flicks: after all, ever since George A. Romero kicked the door in with his revolutionary Night of the Living Dead (1968), the walking dead have become an ingrained part of the horror industry, even bleeding over into pop culture over time. Over forty years removed from Romero’s modest black and white chiller, we now live in a day and age when graphic fare like The Walking Dead can become a hit television series: stick that in your pipe and smoke it, NYPD Blue!

Why do zombie films make such good “starter projects,” however? For one thing, zombie films lend themselves well to a low-budget aesthetic: as Romero proved, you don’t really need more than a willing group of actors, a dedicated location and rudimentary special effects to capture an audience’s attention…in fact, grainy, visceral images tend to heighten the impact of zombie films, not detract from them. The same can’t really be said for any other over-arching horror subset, for the most part, unless one is discussing slasher films: trying making a sci-fi-horror film “on the cheap” and see how effective it is. For another thing, zombie films readily lend themselves to a filmmaker’s desire to “shake things up”: individual filmmakers can mess around with the origin of the infection, the behavior of the dead, the general world around the characters, the internal politics, etc…and come up with a hundred different films off of the same basic “the dead get up and eat the living” log-line. It’s a generic “recipe” that can be turned into an awful lot of different dishes.

To this group of filmmakers who got their start with zombie flicks, be sure to add the inimitable, confounding, living legend that is Canadian body horror auteur David Cronenberg. Although Cronenberg’s first films were actually a pair of art features, he first gained notice with his third film (technically his first feature, as the others were right around an hour apiece). Shivers (1975), known in some circles by the far kitchier title They Came From Within, might be early Cronenberg, but anyone familiar with his career will see the through-line with little trouble: chilly, clinical, unemotional, obsessed with yet disgusted by sexual activity, full of skin-crawling body horror elements and ooky practical effects…in other words, classic Cronenberg.

Kicking off with an effective faux-infomercial for Starliner Island, a self-contained community with everything from apartments to stores and recreational areas, we’re given a sneak peek into what will become our besieged farmhouse, as it were: Starliner Towers. We’re introduced to a number of characters, including Nick Tudor (Allan Kolman) and his wife, Janine (Susan Petrie); the apartment’s manager, Mr. Merrick (Ronald Mlodzik); resident physician Dr. Roger St. Luc (Paul Hampton) and his nurse/paramour, Miss Forsythe (Lynn Lowry); the Svibens (Vlasta Vrana, Silvie Debois) and, perhaps most importantly, Dr. Emil Hobbes (Fred Doederlein) and teenager Annabelle (Cathy Graham). When we first meet Hobbes and Annabelle, the good doctor is strangling the young woman, after which he cuts her open and proceeds to pour acid into her chest cavity before slitting his own throat. As we might gather, all is not sunshine and warm summer breezes here at Starliner Towers…not by a long shot.

As it turns out, Dr. Hobbes, along with his partner, Rollo Linsky (Joe Silver), was working on a way to use parasites as an alternative to organ transplants: the researchers wanted to breed special parasites to take over the organs in a sick person’s body, allowing them to opportunity to heal internally. Somewhere along the way, however, something went drastically wrong (or drastically right, as we’ll come to learn later): the parasites are now jumping from host to host, taking over their victim’s bodies and transforming them into mindless, sexually ravenous zombies. As more and more residents of Starliner Towers fall prey to the disgusting, fleshy slug-things, Roger and Nurse Forsythe, along with Dr. Linsky, must do all they can to remain uninfected, all while frantically searching for some cure to this disorder. In no time, however, the trio find themselves trapped in a house of horrors that’s one part orgy, one part stone-cold nightmare. This is no ordinary “zombie infection,” however: as the ill-fated protagonists will discover, what’s taking place may be as simple and terrifying as the next step in human evolution…an evolutionary move that may see humanity wave goodbye to its cosmic neighbors and embrace a way of life that can best be described as primal, animalistic and completely free of the niceties of polite society.

As with the majority of Cronenberg’s “body horror” films, Shivers can be a massively unpleasant piece of work, especially once one takes into account the added weight of the violent sexuality aspect: if you’re the kind of audience member who shudders at the thought of nasty little slug creatures crawling into every orifice imaginable, you might want to give this a wide berth. For everyone else, however, Shivers serves as an interesting reminder of where Cronenberg started, a particular psychosexual neighborhood that he still lives in, even though his most recent body of work has tended to minimize the sci-fi/horror elements while playing up his more violent tendencies.

Like The Brood (1979), Scanners (1981) and Videodrome (1983), Shivers is a chilly, spartan, clinical film, all blown-out whites, hard-shadows and insidious things happening in the background. It’s a meticulously crafted film, which is par for the course with Cronenberg, but it’s also a very detached film, so unemotional as to occasionally seem aloof. Paul Hampton, in particular, has a bearing about him that seems to speak more to extreme boredom and ennui than the “normal” emotions one might expect from someone under attack from mind-controlling parasites. Truth be told, much of the acting in the film is rather rough and detached, with the exception of genre-vet Barbara Steele, who turns in one of her typically hot-blooded performances as Mrs. Tudor’s friend, Betts. Shivers is also one of the few Cronenberg films, his adaptation of Stephen King’s Dead Zone (1983) being another, to feel distinctly dated and “of its time.”

For all of its rough edges and occasional tonal missteps (one scene involving a slug “jumping” at a woman is very silly and reminds of something Paul Bartel might have snickered his way through), however, Shivers is still undoubtedly a Cronenberg film. When the film is firing on all cylinders, such as the horrifying finale that handily presages Brian Yuzna’s equally yucky (if brilliant) Society (1989), it’s an unbeatable, claustrophobic nightmare. The notion of the “new flesh” that Cronenberg explored so brilliantly in Videodrome seems to get its genesis here, as does his career-long melding of disease, sex and bodily functions. Shivers is also a much more streamlined, “simple” film than Cronenberg’s later work, which helps to amplify the genre elements: in many ways, this is one of the auteur’s purest horror films, hands down.

Despite being a lifelong fan of Cronenberg’s horror films, I must admit to really relishing his more recent “non-horror” films like Spider (2002), A History of Violence (2005), Eastern Promises (2007) and A Dangerous Method (2011). As of late, it seems to me that Cronenberg has sharpened his already lethal skills into a fine, diamond-edged blade: his films may be decidedly less “icky” than they used to be, but the grue has been traded for devastating insights into the human condition that are that much more powerful for being delivered relatively straight-faced. That being said, however, I’ll always have a soft-spot in my heart for his early genre work, especially when I’m feeling down on the human condition, in general. As Cronenberg knows so well, despite all of our innovations, art, emotion and high-minded morality, we’re all just sacks of meat, at the end of the day: clockwork piles of blood, guts, sinew and muscle that may aim for the heavens but spend the majority of our lives wallowing in the muck.

10/26/14 (Part Two): That Knock At the Door

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31 Days of Halloween, cinema, co-writers, couples, death of a child, dramas, feature-film debut, film reviews, films, flashbacks, forgiveness, Gabriel Cowan, gas masks, ghosts, guilt, Haunter, home invasion, horror films, indie films, isolated estates, isolation, John Suits, Milo Ventimiglia, Movies, multiple writers, Sara Paxton, Sarah Shahi, Static, The Others, Todd Levin, twist ending, William Mapother, writer-director

Jonathan (Milo Ventimiglia) and Addie (Sarah Shahi) can’t seem to buy a break. First, they lose their young son in some sort of undisclosed tragedy. The terrible event rocks the very foundations of their marriage, as often happens, but the bad times don’t stop there. There are also hints at problems with infidelity in the relationship, just as vague and ill-defined as the tragedy that stole away their child but definitely there. The couple have retreated to the isolation of a remote estate in order to work on their marriage, only to have their peace disrupted when a mysterious young woman (Sara Paxton), clad in a parka, pounds on their front door. It seems that the young woman is being pursued by a mysterious group of assailants, all wearing gas masks, apparently with the intent to cause her grievous injury. After the couple lets the frantic “guest” into their home, they find themselves under siege by the outside group, as a desperate struggle for survival unfolds. Talk about heapin’ on the misery!

For most of its run-time, Todd Levin’s Static (2012) (which features a whopping three screenwriters, including Levin) is a modest, somber little home invasion flick that breaks absolutely no new ground and does nothing particularly interesting with the sub-genre. At a certain point, however, the filmmakers throw in a twist that sends the film off in another direction entirely. From that point on, the film becomes a different, albeit equally familiar, type of movie, leading to a resolution that should be overly familiar to anyone who’s ever seen one of these types of films. I won’t spoil the “twist” but will note that its ultimate revelation made me sigh aloud: I’d recently seen another, much better, film that did basically the same thing and this was like trying to read the smudged Xerox of a fourth-generation photocopy.

The film is well-made and features a capable, if small, cast: for the majority of the film, the only actors that we see are Ventimiglia, Shahi and Paxton. Ventimiglia, who’s recently been making quite the name for himself in genre efforts like The Divide (2011) and Kiss of the Damned (2012), is his usual brand of emotionless cool mixed with the occasional fiery outburst, sort of a much less interesting variation on Mark Wahlberg. Shahi, for her part, gets a few nice emotional beats but there’s very little chemistry between her and Ventimiglia: we can buy that the couple have hit a rough patch in their marriage but there doesn’t appear to have been much spark there in the best of times, either. Paxton, know for genre fare like The Last House on the Left (2009), The Innkeepers (2011) and Shark Night 3D (2011), does fine with what she’s given but the character of Rachel really only exists as a punchline, as it were, to the film’s main “twist.” Beyond that plot mechanism, her character really doesn’t have much of a purpose, which sort of renders her a little moot.

All in all, Static is decent enough but wears out its welcome fairly quickly. The look of the “bad guys,” complete with gas masks, is a good one, although it still manages to unnecessarily reference the whole “masked people trying to break in” angle of films like Them (2006), You’re Next (2011) and The Purge (2013). For the most part, the film is a kitchen-sink drama about a marriage collapsing, intermittently “spiced” up with the home invasion angle. It’s a tactic that could have worked, ala You’re Next, but everything here just feels kind of cheap and reductive. Ultimately, Static is thoroughly competent, if somewhat depressingly so.

10/26/14 (Part One): Good Fences Make Good Neighbors

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1st person POV, 31 Days of Halloween, art installations, cinema, eponymous characters, feature-film debut, film reviews, films, found-footage films, guardians, horror, horror films, isolated communities, isolation, Jon Foster, Karl Mueller, Lovecraftian, Mark Steger, Movies, Mr. Jones, mysterious artists, neighbors, Sarah Jones, surreal, totems, voice-over narration, writer-director

Every town has one: a reclusive, secretive outcast who resists all friendly advances from the neighboring townsfolk, preferring his/her own company to that of the outside world. They’re the kinds of people who “polite” folks whisper about behind their hands and children make up stories about. In most cases, these recluses are probably just people who want to be left alone to do their own thing, whatever that may be, and I can’t pretend not to see eye-to-eye with them. In rare cases, however, these societal outcasts aren’t just loners but…well, let’s just call them sequestered, shall we? Sometimes, circumstances make it necessary for certain folks to isolate themselves away from everyone else. These can be for mundane reasons, of course, or they can be for sinister reasons (the provenance of the horror film for too many years to count). Sometimes, however, these outcasts can be sequestered away from society for reasons beyond our grasp…reasons that might just melt our comfortably safe world into candle wax if we were ever to come face to face with them.

Writer-director Karl Mueller’s debut feature, Mr. Jones (2013), takes a close look at just such an individual, the eponymous Mr. Jones of the title. Using the currently ubiquitous indie horror trend of “found footage/first-person POV” films, Mueller has no shortage of fascinating ideas, occasionally even lurching into the all-engulfing cosmic horror of Lovecraft. For all of the positives here, however, Mr. Jones is an ultimately confusing, fractured film, one with an ending that’s so positively out-there that it feels as if there’s a missing reel somewhere. The film is rough going, at times, but there’s a genuine intelligence and desire for coloring outside the lines that makes it worth a watch, even if the end result is a bit disappointing.

Mr. Jones opens with one of those scenes that, for better or worse, will pretty much determine how an audience feels about the film: Scott (Jon Foster) holds a camcorder on Penny (Sarah Jones), his wife, as she drives their car to their new home out in the country. Right off the bat, we get one of the moldiest clichés in the found-footage rule-book (“Thou shalt always film the characters as they drive, for no apparent reason”) and I’ll be frank: my initial impression wasn’t exactly favorable. There’s a redundant voice-over, from the husband, that adds nothing to the narrative and plenty of nearly stock scenes of the couple discussing their, apparently, fractious relationship. So far, absolutely nothing that hasn’t been done to death by this point in the sub-genre.

Just when it seems as if we’re settling into another one of those “odd things happen to an unhappy couple” movies, however, Mueller and company inject a little life into the film. While out exploring their new environs, the couple happen upon another house, an isolated, out-of-the-way little place that seems to be the opposite of “welcoming.” Scott’s a wannabe documentarian which, in this case, means that he’s a busy-body, so he eagerly lets himself into the strange house for a little exploration, even though the place is obviously occupied and the furthest thing from abandoned. Penny, the voice of reason, thinks this is the furthest thing from a good idea until she gets a gander of the bizarre, amazing sculptures in the basement. At that point, she looks like a kid who just got Willie Wonka’s golden ticket. What gives?

Turns out that Penny recognizes some of the sculptures as belonging to the ultra-reclusive artist Mr. Jones, a mysterious figure that she describes as “like Banksy and J.D. Salinger.” Just then, the home-owner returns and the pair narrowly make it out after Penny creates a diversion. Despite their near brush with breaking-and-entering charges, however, Penny is completely hooked: she now wants to make a documentary about the most obvious subject of all: their world-famous, reclusive, mysterious next-door neighbor.

At this point, we get some standard “talking head” interviews with “experts,” who describe Mr. Jones’ decidedly strange M.O.: the artist mails his artwork to random, unsuspecting people around the world, people who then begin to experience drastic changes in personal luck, as it were. There are only nine verified Jones pieces in the whole world: any new work would be worth more than seven figures, or so we’re told. The allure, then, is obvious: we’re always fascinated by what we don’t understand, even more so when it involves giving away priceless possessions to complete strangers.

As Penny and Scott continue to poke around, however, they begin to uncover evidence that Mr. Jones might be more than just an outsider art hero: he may actually be involved in some sort of arcane, supernatural ritual that involves his sculptures, pieces which may or may not function as some sort of totems. The truth of the matter is actually more bizarre than even the couple can imagine, however, and leads to a chaotic, genuinely odd climax that drives home that most basic of truisms: good fences do, indeed, make good neighbors.

From a story/idea standpoint, Mr. Jones is rock-solid: Mueller manages to nail a Lovecraft vibe, particularly in the info dump scenes, that promises huge revelations and soul-shattering terror. The sculptures, themselves, are properly unearthly and, in some cases, flat-out badass: the “scarecrow,” in particular, is a real marvel and the kind of iconic image that most genre filmmakers would kill for.

On the other hand, however, the film is actually kind of a mess. The found-footage aspects are pretty tired and old-hat, especially when played as straight as they are here: there are so many “Blair Witch”-type “selfie” shots that it felt as if the filmmakers had just watched the film and were determined to craft their own version of events. Neither of the leads have much personality or individuality, although neither are obnoxious, for that matter: like much of the film, they’re just kind of there to help advance the storyline. The film’s climax, in particular, is massively confusing and seems to come from out of nowhere: it’s a real head-scratcher that’s definitely thought-provoking, albeit for the wrong reasons. I’m pretty sure I know what’s going on but not completely sure: normally, that feeling would delight me, since it would indicate something outside the box. In this case, however, it’s more of a shrug and accept kind of thing: again, probably not what the filmmakers were shooting for.

Despite the fundamental problems with the movie, there was still a solid underlying idea that was fascinating and certainly worthy of exploration, even if the final result was decidedly hum-drum. While this was Mueller’s first directorial effort, he previously wrote the screenplay to French extreme-horror guru Xavier Gen’s mean-spirited The Divide (2011), which indicates someone who slowly climbing the indie-horror strata. In time, I’m confident that Mueller will have something under his belt that’s at least as explosive as Gens’ unforgettable Frontier(s) (2007). Mr. Jones isn’t that film, not by a long shot, but it’s not a bad way to begin the journey, either.

 

10/25/14 (Part Two): Wolfman’s Got Nards!

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'80s films, 31 Days of Halloween, Adam Carl, Andrew Gower, Ashley Bank, auteur theory, Bradford May, Brent Chalem, Carl Thibault, co-writers, Count Dracula, creature feature, cult classic, Dracula, Duncan Regehr, favorite films, fighting monsters, Film auteurs, Frankenstein's monster, Fred Dekker, horror films, horror-comedies, influential films, Jack Gwillim, Jason Hervey, kids in peril, kids vs monsters, kids' movies, Leonardo Cimino, Mary Ellen Trainor, Michael Faustino, Michael MacKay, monster hunters, Monster Squad, Night of the Creeps, Robby Kiger, Ryan Lambert, scrappy kids, set in the 1980's, Shane Black, special-effects extravaganza, Stan Winston, Stephen Macht, the Creature From the Black Lagoon, The Monster Squad, The Mummy, the Wolfman, Tom Noonan, Tom Woodruff Jr., Universal monster movies, Van Helsi, Van Helsing, writer-director, young adult films

At the risk of sounding like a complete grump (“Please get off my lawn, if you don’t mind too terribly”), kids/young adult movies were a lot better in the ’80s. I know, I know…everything was better back in the day, right? Far from being a knee-jerk condemnation of anything new and au courant, however, I actually have some solid reasoning behind my opinion (mixed with plenty of good, old-fashioned personal prejudices, of course). Sure, there was plenty of awful, commercial, soulless bullshit out there, just like there always is, but there was also a pretty unbeatable string of absolute classics that came out between 1981 and 1987: Time Bandits (1981), E.T. (1982), Something Wicked This Way Comes (1983), Gremlins (1984), The Goonies (1985), Explorers (1985), Fright Night (1985), Labyrinth (1986), Stand By Me (1986), The Gate (1987), The Lost Boys (1987) and, of course, Fred Dekker’s amazing The Monster Squad (1987).

If there’s one commonality that these decidedly disparate films share, it would have to be the understanding that children are neither angelic cherubs nor empty vessels for adult motivations: like adults, kids have their own personalities, foibles, quirks, ways of talking and notions of “good vs evil.” The best kids’ movies, as far as I’m concerned, are the ones that allow children to be genuine and act like real kids: they swear like sailors, use non politically correct language, think the opposite sex is completely gross (up until the moment those hormones kick in), are smarter than we give them credit for and think that adults who talk down to them are dumb-asses. The very best kids’ movies don’t sugarcoat or sanitize everything: there have to be real stakes because that’s the way life really is. Think back to films like E.T. and The Goonies: despite their status as “kids’ movies,” both films feature genuinely scary, dangerous moments. The aforementioned ’80s kids’ films all feature death as a very real consequence, which makes them successful as both kids’ movies AND genre films. As far as I’m concerned, the very-best kids’ movies, just like the very best animated films and cartoons, should be able to be appreciated by adults, as well. Dumbing down entertainment does no one any favors.

All of this, of course, is a roundabout way of saying that The Monster Squad is one of the most kickass films in the long and legendary history of the modern cinema. This is pure opinion, of course, but I’m also fairly sure that it could be proven scientifically, if necessary. I can’t actually recall the first time I saw the film, although I’m fairly positive I was no older than my early teens, if that. Since that time, however, I’ve fondly returned to Dekker and scribe-supreme Shane Black’s ode to growing up in the era of Famous Monsters of Filmland and Fangoria magazines time and time again. Like the best films of that era, I never get tired of re-visiting the movie: each time, it’s like taking a little trip back to my childhood, a time when monsters were real, adults were lame and kids had all the answers, even if no one was asking them the questions.

Kicking-off with a supremely fun setpiece set “100 years in the past,” we’re introduced to that most famous of monster hunters, Abraham van Helsing (Jack Gwillim), as he and his “freedom fighters” attempt to rid the world of vampires and monsters. “They blew it,” as the on-screen text tells us, but we already knew that: otherwise, what would be the point?

In the here and now, we meet our two main protagonists: Sean (Andrew Gower) and Patrick (Robby Kiger). They’re the kind of kids who are totally obsessed with all things monster and horror-related: they get sent to the principal after they’re caught drawing monsters in class and even have their own “official” monster club: the Monster Squad. The other member of their group is Horace (Brent Chalem), the wise-beyond-his-years outcast who gets saddled with “fat kid” by school bullies E.J. (Jason Hervey) and Derek (Adam Carl) and is pushed around so much that he’s always just one pivot away from a pratfall. The worm turns, however, when E.J. bullies Horace once too many times and incurs the wrath of Rudy (Ryan Lambert), the resident “bad kid.” Rudy’s in junior high, wears a leather jacket, smokes cigarettes, peeps on girls through bedroom windows with binoculars and doesn’t take kindly to bullies: the triumphant scene where he forces E.J. to eat Horace’s candy bar off the ground sets the stage for what’s to come…these misfits are about to shine!

But where would a Monster Squad be without monsters to fight? Luckily (or unluckily), the gang is going to have plenty of monsters to take a swing at. Seems that ol’ Count Dracula (Duncan Regehr) has hatched a plot to take over the world with the help of some old cronies: Frankenstein’s monster (Tom Noonan), the Wolfman (Carl Thibault), the Gillman (Tom Woodruff Jr.) and the Mummy (Michael MacKay). When the adults around them, including Sean’s policeman father, Del (Stephen Macht), fail to connect the dots on the bigger scheme, it’s up to The Monster Squad to stop Drac’s plot. Lucky for them, they just happen to have their hands on Van Helsing’s diary, which might have a tip or two on how to stop the unholy fiends. Unluckily for them, however, Dracula is on to them and will stop at nothing until all impediments to his progress have been destroyed, be it man, woman or child. Things are about to get awful hairy but never fear…the Monster Squad is on the case!

From start to finish, Dekker’s The Monster Squad is just about the most fun someone could have at the cinema, especially if you happen to be a horror fanatic likes yours truly. The cast is phenomenal, highlighted by totally fist-pumping performances by Chalem and Lambert as, respectively, Horace and Rudy. Horace, in particular, is a totally awesome character: he’s a completely three-dimensional character who’s the furthest thing from the odious “fat kid” stereotype in youth movies. In fact, Horace’s progression from picked-on outsider to ass-kicker is subtle because he already kicks ass when we first meet him…by the end, he’s just received enough self-assurance to be proud about it. One of the greatest parts of this film (or any film, for that matter) is the epic moment where Horace’s former bullies look on in admiration as he helps mop up the monsters. “Hey, fat kid…good job,” says E.J., looking suitably awed. Horace’s response? “My name (cocking his shotgun) is Horace!” If you don’t jump up from your seat, cheering, you were probably never young, to begin with.

As I mentioned earlier, the kids in The Monster Squad actually look and sound like real kids: they swear, discuss “wolf dork” as the reason for the Wolfman wearing pants (which leads to the legendary moment where Sean tells Horace to kick the Wolfman “in the nards.” Horace complains that he “doesn’t have them,” before being proven wrong once he actually kicks him and the monster doubles over in pain. “Wolfman’s got nards!,” Horace triumphantly proclaims, as if he just discovered the cure for cancer), say “Bogus” a lot, roll their eyes at authority figures and are casually cruel and sexist. They’re pretty much the furthest thing from sanitized “Disney” versions of kids and are all the more indelible for it.

Despite having only three films under his belt (Night of the Creeps (1986), The Monster Squad and RoboCop 3 (1993), Fred Dekker is easily one of my favorite filmmakers in the entire world. Night of the Creeps is an absolutely perfect ’80s B-movie (one of the film’s best jokes is even repeated in The Monster Squad, as Del notes that dead bodies don’t walk around, only for us to witness the Mummy doing just that), as is The Monster Squad: I must admit to remembering nothing whatsoever about RoboCop 3 but I’m willing to wager that must have been pretty swell, as well, if Dekker was involved. For my money, he’s one of the most successful, effortless combiners of horror and comedy in the business. Dekker also populates his films with dynamic, fascinating characters, whether main or supporting: no one in a Dekker film is just cannon-fodder, regardless of how much or little screen-time they get.

One of The Monster Squad’s secret weapons, of course, is screenwriter Shane Black.  Beginning with his script for Lethal Weapon (1987), Black has been responsible for some of the best, smartest and most interesting action scripts in the business: he wrote The Last Boy Scout (1991), The Long Kiss Goodnight (1996)and Kiss Kiss Bang Bang (2005), all of which flip the genre on its head in some interesting, fun ways. Co-scripting with Dekker, Black comes up with one of his best, tightest scripts: the film is full of not only great scenes but plenty of awesome dialogue, as well. There’s a great moment where Rudy tries to kick in the door of a locked church, only to be told, “Don’t kick the church: it’s religious.” His response? “It’s locked, is what it is.” Classic. There’s also a really great, subtle moment where the kids remark that the “Scary German Guy” (Leonardo Cimino) who helps them translate Van Helsing’s diary must know a a lot about monsters. “I suppose that I do,” he replies wistfully, as the camera lingers on his concentration-camp tattoo. It’s the kind of real moment that happens all too little in most kids’ movies: The Monster Squad is full of them, however, and all of that credit is due to a tremendously good script.

Ultimately, even after studiously looking for flaws, I can only find minor quibbles with The Monster Squad: despite being designed by Stan Winston, none of the monsters are really a patch on the originals (the Mummy, in particular, is rather scrawny) and the film can also, upon occasion, get a little silly. It is a kids’ film, after all, so at least some measure of silliness is to be expected. For the most part, however, The Monster Squad, like Night of the Creeps, is just about as flawless as they come: action-packed, full of great humor and a real love letter to the Golden Age of Monsters, Fred Dekker’s film is an unmitigated classic. If there were any justice in this world, The Monster Squad’s promise of further adventures would have been fulfilled ten-fold. As it stands, however, we’ll just have to settle for what we got: one of the very best kids’ movies of all time.

 

10/25/14 (Part One): Where’s Howie When You Need Him?

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31 Days of Halloween, brothers, Bryan Rasmussen, childhood fears, childhood trauma, cinema, creature feature, Don't Be Afraid of the Dark, Eric Stolze, father-son relationships, film reviews, films, Gattlin Griffith, Jonny Weston, Kelcie Stranahan, kids in peril, Little Monsters, monster movies, monsters under the bed, Movies, Musetta Vander, nightmares, Peter Holden, Sam Kindseth, Silent Night, Steven C. Miller, The Gate, Tyler Steelman, Under the Bed

If there’s one fear that’s pretty universal among kids, I’d be more than willing to wager that it’s the old “monster under the bed.” For generations of youngsters, bedtime consists of a series of arcane processes – not touching the floor, staying under the covers, keeping the light on – solely designed to prevent one from becoming a late-night snack. As children grow older and get their first experiences with the “real” world, however, the omnipresent threat of monsters under the bed diminishes, replaced by the all-too real knowledge that plenty of flesh-and-blood monsters are around to worry about without stressing over the imaginary ones. For a time, however, monsters under the bed are as real as it gets for kids (just watch the mortifying Little Monsters (1989) for evidence of that) and, undoubtedly, perfect fodder for a horror film.

This, of course, leads us to director Steven C. Miller’s Under the Bed (2012), the follow-up to his excellent remake of the Santa-themed slasher Silent Night (2012). Working from a script by Eric Stolze (who also wrote the upcoming werewolf flick Late Phases (2014)), Miller turns in a glossy, rather bombastic, effort that has a similar visual style to films like Insidious (2010) and The Conjuring (2013), yet ends up being a much more violent, graphic affair. If anything, Under the Bed’s rather formidable violence is one of the film’s big issues, as it sets up a decidedly schizophrenic tone: at times, the film feels like it’s pitched at young adults, yet features a scene where someone’s head is slowly ripped into several pieces. Suffice to say, Mr. Rogers would not approve.

Under the Bed kicks off as Neal (Jonny Weston) returns home for the first time in years, coming back to his younger brother, Paulie (Gattlin Griffith) and father, Terry (Peter Holden, looking for all the world like a surly Zach Galifianakis). It would appear that Neal has spent time in some sort of care facility, apparently due to the traumatic death of his mother in a house-fire. The relationship between Terry and Neal seems to strained, indicating that the father may hold his son more accountable for his mother’s death than he lets on. When Neal returns, however, he seems to be more on edge than ever: he’s afraid that the evil he fled years ago is still there…and he would be absolutely correct.

Turns out that Neal had a run-in with an actual monster years ago, a beast which now appears to be stalking his little brother. Terry won’t listen to this foolishness, however: he’s convinced that Neal had a nervous breakdown and is now back to “infect” his other son with the same foolishness. Only Neal and Paulie know the truth, however: something hungry, evil and vicious lives under the bed in Paulie’s room. As Neal and Paulie inch ever closer to confronting this source of ultimate evil, this monster that was also responsible for their mother’s death, they find a kindred spirit (of sorts) in neighbor Cara (Kelcie Stranahan), whose little brothers think Neal and Paulie are just about the creepiest things in the neighborhood. Aid also comes from an unlikely source when the boys’ new step-mom, Angela (Musetta Vander), comes to believe them and throws her support into the ring. Will all of this be enough to destroy childhood fears made flesh or will the brothers and their allies become just more midnight snacks for the creature?

For the most part, Under the Bed is a perfectly decent, middle-of-the-road “kids versus monsters” story, albeit one told with the utter seriousness of a biblical epic. Truth be told, the bombastic, over-the-top tone of the film, reinforced by everything from the overly shouty performances (Jonny Weston, in particular, can effortlessly play to the back rafters) to the brash, loud musical score, tends to wear one down after a while: for the life of me, I found myself wishing that everyone, monster included, which just chill out and have a quiet sit-down by the time the film was rushing towards its manic climax. There’s just too much of everything here: too much shouting, too many loud musical stingers, too much “acting” when something more subtle would suffice. Under the Bed isn’t a bad film, by any stretch, but it is an extremely tedious one, which might actually be a worse sin.

Which, ultimately, is a bit of a bummer, since there’s plenty to like here. The overall storyline, about the demonic presence under the bed, is a solid one, if hammered home with way too heavy a hand and the creature/gore effects are expertly executed. In particular, the scenes where Neal goes into the “under the bed world” to save Paulie are pretty fabulous: I really wish we got to spend more time in that apocalyptic world, with ash floating through the air like snow, but the most we get are a couple fast, rather confusingly edited bits that are the equivalent of a famous actor making a quick cameo. I was also dutifully impressed by the filmmakers’ ability to kill off kids and main characters at the drop of a hat: usually, both group tend to be fairly sacred cows in films like this but there’s the refreshing notion that no one is safe, which tends to up the stakes considerably.

If anything, Under the Bed reminds me of a combination of the disappointing, Guillermo del Toro produced Don’t Be Afraid of the Dark (2010) and the minor ’80s classic, The Gate (1987), both of which focused on demonic beasties harassing spunky kids. The film borrows its slick visual sense and tone from the former, while it gets some of its violence and story structure from the latter. This also means, of course, that the film seems to have precious little identity of its own, a matter further complicated by the aforementioned extreme violence: often times, the film is completely appropriate to younger audiences, similar to The Gate. At times, however, the violence zooms straight into Grand Guignol territory (that head-ripping bit is a real corker and this comes from a guy who’s pretty much the definition of jaded.

Ultimately, Under the Bed isn’t a bad film but it’s much less than what it could have been, especially when one considers just how great Silent Night was: the “backward” progression seems a bit worrisome, especially for a director with a relatively small body of work. With a lot more restraint and a clearer goal, Under the Bed might have been a minor classic, just like The Gate. As it stands, however, the film should appeal to monster lovers and curious horror-philes but probably won’t have much of a bigger resonance past that. Which, again, is a shame, since it came so close to being a contender.