11/4/15: One of These Things is a Lot Like the Other Thing

Tags

Alien, aliens, Benjamin L. Brown, Blood Glacier, Camille Balsamo, cinema, creature feature, directorial debut, Edwin H. Bravo, feature-film debut, film reviews, films, fishing boat, frozen horror, Giovonnie Samuels, Harbinger Down, horror, horror films, isolation, Kraig W. Sturtz, Lance Henriksen, Matt Winston, Michael Estime, Milla Bjorn, monster movies, Monsters, Movies, mutations, paranoia, practical effects, Reid Collums, set in the Arctic, special-effects extravaganza, tardigrades, The Thing, Winston James Francis, writer-director

If imitation truly is the sincerest form of flattery, than special effects maven Alec Gillis’ writing/directorial debut, Harbinger Down (2015), just may go down as one of the sincerest films in recent memory. By taking a little Alien (1979), a little Blood Glacier (2013) and a whole lot of Carpenter’s The Thing (1982), Gillis crafts another Arctic-set creature feature that stands tall thanks to its excellent effects work (both practical and CGI) but sinks a bit due to the overly familiar scenario, characters that rarely rise above the level of cinematic tropes and a tone that see-saws between atmospheric, portentous doom and bone-headed, B-movie actioneering.

After opening with a really dynamic bit involving a Russian spacecraft plummeting into the Arctic Circle in the early ’80s, Harbinger Down begins, proper, with an extremely tedious bit of stereotypical found-footage that momentarily gave me unease before it was abandoned for the more traditionally cinematic look that suits the material much better. We meet our erstwhile protagonist and college student, Sadie (Camille Balsamo), who has joined the crew of the crab boat Harbinger, along with classmate Ronelle (Giovonnie Samuels) and officious, shithead professor, Stephen (Matt Winston), in order to track and study a pod of Beluga whales.

The crew, as befits this type of film, is your usual Whitman’s sampler of stereotypes, cliches, tropes and characterizations: we get the gruff, tough-as-nails captain, who also happens to be Sadie’s beloved grandpa (Lance Henriksen, adding gravitas even if he seems largely disinterested); the noble, silent and superstitious local native (Edwin H. Bravo); the motor-mouthed, sarcastic and cynical wiseass (Michael Estime); the ridiculously tough Russian chick who expresses romantic interest in a guy by beating the crap out of him (Milla Bjorn); the enormous bruiser who’s revealed to be sweeter, smarter and nicer than he appears (Winston James Francis); the weird loner who works in the engine room and always seems filthy (Kraig W. Sturtz); and, of course, the obligatory blast-from-the-past/love interest (Reid Collums).

Once our merry misfits have all come together on the isolated, frigid and storm-tossed sea, the film wastes little time in setting up the main conflict. To whit: while whale watching, Sadie spies a mysterious, frozen mass and has the crew pluck it from the icy depths and deposit it upon the ship’s deck. Turns out the object is the Russian spacecraft from the beginning of the film, complete with long-dead cosmonaut still belted into the shuttle. Faster than you can say “Maybe you shouldn’t touch that,” they do, indeed, touch the rapidly thawing craft, releasing an icky pink substance from the dead spaceman that is explained away as “tardigrades,” yet really only needs one descriptor: “horrifying cosmic slop that eats organisms and causes violent mutation.”

From this point on, Harbinger Down hits all of the standard-issue creature feature tropes: the disparate group must band together, figure out what they’re faced with, figure out a way to destroy it and then pursue it (and be pursued by it, in turn) throughout the ship until we reach the appropriately effects-heavy final confrontation. Et voila: roll credits and wait for the inevitable sequel.

If this sounds rather similar to aforementioned films like Alien, Blood Glacier and The Thing, well, that’s because it is similar: very, very similar, to be frank. This isn’t, of course, automatically a crucial defect: many of the slashers that followed in Halloween’s original wake were highly derivative of Carpenter’s classic, yet still managed to bring something new (no matter how minuscule) to the table. There are only so many unique plots, after all: say “Arctic-set, sci-fi horror about mutations” and it’s all but impossible not to reference The Thing.

That being said, Gillis’ film often leans so heavily on what came before that it frequently loses its own sense of identity. By the time we get to the de rigueur “Are they or aren’t they infected?” scene, our minds have already filled in all the blanks from previous, similar films, giving much of Harbinger Down a “been there, done that” feel.

Despite the over familiarity, however, Gillis and cinematographer Benjamin L. Brown still manage to imbue the film with an oppressive, overbearing atmosphere: the various shots of the lonely Harbinger, a tiny island of light in the unbelievably immense vastness of the Arctic Ocean, are extremely powerful and handily set up the disparity between the tiny bit that humans know and the countless mysteries that we know nothing about whatsoever. As mentioned earlier, the creature effects are also top-notch, creating intensely odd, misshapen monstrosities that recall both The Thing and Blood Glacier without being overly slavish to either: there’s something determinedly alien and otherworldly about the mutations, an alien quality which goes a long way in selling the film’s horror.

A pity, then, that the chilling atmosphere is so often broken up by silly shenanigans like the scene where Big G and Rick try to fool Stephen, Big G and Svetlana’s dumb courtship/brawl or the intensely over-the-top bit where Sadie talks shit to the Russian crew: moments like these take us right out of the action and put our focus squarely on the characters which, as stated previously, often act as the loosest-possible plotline placeholders. These, unfortunately, are the moments that separate Harbinger Down from the truly classic creature features of the past several decades: attempts at creating “ass-kicking” action and suspense that serve only to unnecessarily dilute the film’s actual tension and horrific potential.

Despite how familiar it ended up being, however, I still thoroughly enjoyed Harbinger Down. Call me a sucker for this type of film but, like dystopic sci-fi or pretty much any underwater horror, I’ll watch just about any arctic-set horror that’s set before me. With a decent cast, great locations, a solid (if familiar) story and some top-notch effects, there’s a whole lot to like about Gillis’ Harbinger Down. If nothing else, the film stands as a good indication that the effects guru-turned filmmaker has a good head on his shoulders and firmly understands the mechanics behind B-grade monster movies and their ilk. As long as he keeps crafting solid, well-made films like this one, I’ll be keeping my eyes peeled for his next project.

2/14/15 (Part One): Hurting the Ones You Love

Tags

aliens, Ben Huber, body horror, cabins, cinema, co-writers, dark films, directorial debut, feature-film debut, film reviews, films, Hanna Brown, Harry Treadaway, Honeymood, horror, horror films, husband-wife relationship, isolated communities, Leigh Janiak, Lovecraftian, Lovely Molly, low-budget films, Movies, Phil Graziadei, possession, relationship, Rose Leslie, writer-director

Every relationship has its “honeymoon” phase: whether weeks, months or years, there’s always a sweet spot in any new union where cloyingly sweet pet names are common, arguments are unimaginable and every couple seem joined at the hips. These are the times when lovers can while away an entire afternoon just staring into each other’s starry orbs, whispering sweet nothings while hand-feeding one another grapes. While the honeymoon is always great, it’s never where the actual meat of a relationship lies, however: once the initial “puppy-dog” phase is over, couples have to actually get down to the business of dealing with each other, a process which misses as much as it hits. For every couple that grow old together, there are plenty that implode after the rose-tinted glasses (and gloves) come off. Being with someone during the good times is easy: you know that you’ve found a partner for life when the bad times are equally appealing.

Leigh Janiak’s Honeymoon (2014) is, both literally and figuratively, about this happy little time: we pick up with the film’s lead couple right as they arrive at their honeymoon destination, immediately following their wedding. Bea (Rose Leslie) and Paul (Harry Treadaway) are that aforementioned google-eyed pair of lovebirds that make everyone else gag and roll their eyes: he calls her “honeybee” and she “buzzs” while lovingly touching his face, every comment is some sort of “sassy” quip. They’re obviously in love and perfect for each other, the kind of “quirky” renegades who serve Indian food at their wedding as a reference to their first-date food poisoning and have a cake made out of cinnamon rolls. She’s an outdoorsy-type who spent 12 years as a Girl Scout, he’s a city boy who doesn’t know how to fish…it’s the ultimate meet-cute, as if we’re beginning with the triumphant conclusion to any number of generic modern rom-coms.

But then, of course, little cracks begin to appear in the smooth surface veneer. Paul makes an extremely odd comment about Bea’s “womb” which seems to surprise him as much as her…a childhood friend of Bea’s, Will (Ben Huber), lives in the nearby town and there seems to some underlying sexual tension between the two…the swamps and woods that surround Bea’s childhood home seem to be teeming with life, yet we see very little of it. Things come to a head when Paul discovers Bea missing, one night, and frantically searches the woods for her. Upon finding her nude and crouched in the dirt, Paul is (rightfully) worried but Bea passes the incident off as mere sleep-walking. As Bea’s behavior becomes ever stranger, however, Paul is confronted with the disturbing notion that something terrible might have happened to his wife in the woods. Was she attacked by Will or is there something altogether darker involved, something with motives no rational human could comprehend?

After a somewhat shaky first act (Bea and Paul are so nauseatingly cute and broad, at first, that the first 15 minutes or so almost play out like a parody), Honeymoon smooths out into a reasonably tense, atmospheric chiller, albeit one that manages to be both a little too vague and a little to on-the-nose (no mean feat, if you think about it). While none of the events in the film are ever really explained, there’s a point, towards the end, where Bea still manages to give us a recap, of sorts, similar to the point in many films where we finally “see” how all of the events transpired. If it reads a little confusing, it actually plays even more so: rather than wrapping everything up with a bow, she just re-explains what we saw, without the benefit of any new insight whatsoever. It’s similar to asking someone for the score to a sporting match and then having them recap said match without ever mentioning the final score. I’m certainly not a fan of hand-holding but Honeymoon’s many “clues” come across as red herrings simply because we’re never given quite enough to go on.

Even if Honeymoon ends up making imperfect sense (I hope it’s a rather clever, subtle take on Lovecraft’s Shadow Out of Innsmouth but it could also be a much less interesting alien visitation tale…I’m really not sure), there are plenty of creepy scenes here and some genuine pathos to the relationship between Bea and Paul. While Leslie and Treadaway aren’t always convincing as a couple (Treadaway, in particular, has a certain way of delivering lines that renders particular moments rather artificial, especially when he gets more agitated), they have a reasonable amount of chemistry together and the final scene packs a fairly hefty wallop. Leslie, known mostly for roles in hit TV shows like Downton Abbey and Game of Thrones, strikes a nice balance between kooky, sweet and distracted: when it all comes together, she projects a quite winning balance between aloof and vulnerable.  While Treadaway isn’t quite as impressive here as he was in either The Disappeared (2008) or Cockneys vs Zombies (2012), he’s still solid and largely sympathetic.

As a film about a relationship, there’s plenty of authenticity to Honeymoon. More than anything, the film is about the subtle little ways in which couples feint and maneuver around each other, digging into past injuries, hinting around bigger issues and feigning smiles when in-depth conversations might better serve. In some ways, the film can be seen as a microcosm of a fledgling marriage, with the crisis that befalls Bea and Paul serving as their first real “issue.” One of the subtlest, most effective scenes in the film is the one where Paul stares surreptitiously at Bea as they toast marshmallows: even as they’re supposed to be having fun, we can see the pain and suspicion festering in his eyes. Despite the couple’s desire to just enjoy their time together, their internal dialogue speaks volumes. In a genre that’s often criticized for being about “nothing,” Honeymoon actually has something to say, which is a nice change of pace.

As a horror film, Honeymoon is also effective, although it often feels like a modified take on a traditional found-footage film, minus the subjective camera element. We get plenty of staples from that sub-genre (shadowy figures appearing behind Paul, security cam footage, the notion that things are happening just out of frame) along with some (subtle) Lovecraftian elements and a particularly slimy ode to either Andrzej Zulawski’s Possession (1981) or Scott’s Alien (1979)…take your pick. Throughout the whole thing, first-time director Janiak (who also co-wrote the film with Phil Graziadei) displays a fairly deft touch with establishing mood and tension. That being said, I couldn’t help but feel that the film could have benefited from a much darker, grimmier tone, ala Eduardo Sanchez’s knockout Lovely Molly (2011): aside from the ending, Honeymoon never digs the screws into the audience (or its characters) as much as it could, which ends up being a little disappointing.

That being said, there is a lot to like here. While Paul ends up being the focus of the story, in many ways, it’s always refreshing to watch a horror film that gives equal screen-time to the female lead: much of the body horror here is feminine in nature, which provides another parallel to the aforementioned Possession. The film is never out-and-out terrifying, so to speak, but it’s certainly a slow-burner, worming its way under your skin and culminating in a suitably sad, striking finale. For a low-key, low-budget indie horror film, Leigh Janiak’s Honeymoon strikes plenty of right notes: here’s to hoping her follow-up continues to raise the bar.

2/8/15: After the Freeze, the Thaw

Tags

action film, aliens, Atticus Mitchell, Bill Paxton, Canadian films, cannibals, CGI, Charlotte Sullivan, cinema, civilized vs savage, climate change, co-writers, Doomsday, Dru Viergever, dystopian future, extreme violence, film reviews, films, foreign films, frozen wasteland, horror, ice age, isolated communities, Jeff Renfroe, John Healy, John Tench, Julian Richings, Kevin Zegers, Laurence Fishburne, Movies, multiple writers, post-apocalyptic wasteland, quarantine, sci-fi, sci-fi-horror, science-fiction, Screamers, self-sacrifice, siege, Snowpiercer, survival of the fittest, survivors, The Colony, underground colonies, violent films, voice-over narration, writer-director

Sometimes, you don’t expect much more from a film than you can get from a cursory glance at said film’s box art: in this case, I expected Jeff Renfroe’s The Colony (2013) to be a serviceable sci-fi/action flick, set in a frozen, dystopic future, with Laurence Fishburne and Bill Paxton butting heads…nothing more, nothing less. For the most part, this is exactly what I ended up with: while the film throws a few minor twists into the mix, nothing here will be unfamiliar to viewers who’ve seen films like Screamers (1995), Doomsday (2008) or any of a hundred other similar sci-fi/horror/action hybrids. That being said, The Colony is fast-paced, reasonably tense and features a handful of truly impressive fight sequences: if the film ends up being rather silly and over-the-top, in the end, it at least manages to keep the courage of its convictions.

We’re immediately dumped into one of those frozen-over worlds of the near-future that forms such an integral part of recent sci-fi films like Snowpiercer (2014): in this case, we’re not given any real reasons for the catastrophe, although a handy voice-over does let us know that the common cold is now a lethal killer, which positions this somewhere between climate change and bacteriological devastation on the “We’re Fucked” scale. Regardless of the reason, humanity has been split into two separate groups: the ones who made it underground, to protected colonies, and the ones who stayed above-ground. To make it even easier: underground = alive, above-ground = dead. Suffice to say, the future ain’t such a hot place to be, in every sense of the term.

Our entry into the narrative is Colony 7, one of the last, surviving colonies. Run by the even-handed, level-headed Briggs (Laurence Fishburne), the colony is also home to hot-headed, reactionary Mason (Bill Paxton), proving the old film adage that everyone needs an antagonist, especially those who lead post-apocalyptic societies. Our narrator (and defacto hero) is Sam (Kevin Zegers), a nice, upstanding young man who happens to be sweet on Kai (Charlotte Sullivan), the tough-as-nails supply controller who’s more than capable of taking care of herself in an unforgiving world. Life in Colony 7 is harsh and violent death is always around the corner: any residents who develop the sniffles are given one of two options – let Mason put a bullet in their noggins or take a long, cold walk into the oblivion of the snow-blasted wasteland above-ground. It’s not, exactly, how Briggs would prefer to get things done but it’s a balance that works, for the time being.

In a development that vaguely echoes the under-rated sci-fi chiller Screamers, Colony 7 receives a distress signal from the only other known, surviving colony: Colony 5.  In the interest of trying to preserve as many human lives as possible, Briggs, Sam and a young go-getter by the name of Graydon (Atticus Mitchell) set out on a perilous journey to check out the signal. Briggs leaves Kai in charge, which sits about as well with the ludicrously macho Mason as you’d expect. With tension back home at an all-time high, the trio set out for the blinding-white environs top-side, determined to find out what’s going on with their closest “neighbors.”

After a short series of adventures through the CGI-created frozen world that used to be ours, our trio ends up at Colony 5, only to discover what appears to be the remnants of violent conflict. Upon further exploration, the trio finds a single survivor, Leland (Julian Richings), who spins a  tale that begins hopefully, with a potential thawed zone on the surface world, and ends horribly, with news of some kind of attack that wiped everyone out. Since our heroes really can’t leave well enough alone, they continue to explore Colony 5 and run smack-dab into a rampaging horde of bloodthirsty cannibals led by a leader (Dru Viergever) who manages to be a teeth-gnashing, chest-beating amalgam of pretty much every savage/feral/cannibal/evil warlord leader in the history of dystopic cinema. This then begins a protracted chase, as our heroes must return to the safety of their colony while being careful not to lead the cannibal army directly to their next smorgasbord. Who will survive and who will become toothpicks? In this colony, it’s anyone’s guess!

For the most part, The Colony is a pretty run-of-the-mill, bargain-bin type of dystopic action flick. It’s got all of the visual and aural hallmarks of said subgenre (morose score, muted color palette, panoramic wide shots), as well as many of the pitfalls (extremely dodgy CGI, extraneous use of slo-mo and overly flashy editing, over-the-top acting). The cannibal angle isn’t so much a twist as an inevitability and this particular iteration of feral savages is much less interesting and singular than, say, the flesh-eaters of Doomsday, who at least had the foresight to barbecue their victims with an industrial size backyard grill. Here, we just get the typical filthy, snarling, rampaging cannibal Berserkers, albeit with the added lunacy of watching them run around in snow gear. If it sounds silly, it is but no more so than many films of its ilk.

For their part, the non-cannibal actors turn in fairly workmanlike performances, with both Fishburne and Paxton all but fading into the background. Paxton, in particular, seems to be moving on auto-pilot: I expected at least a little gonzo nuttiness but his performance was surprisingly subdued and more than a little grumpy. Zegers and Sullivan make a blandly attractive couple as Sam and Kai but there’s not much spark to their turn, while the rest of the colony passes in a blur of rather similar, generic characterizations.

In truth, there are only two ways that The Colony really distinguishes itself: the computer-designed backgrounds, prior to arriving at Colony 5, are astoundingly fake and the film is surprisingly violent and brutal, even for a post-apocalyptic fable about rampaging cannibals. The violence isn’t really an issue, since I doubt that any shrinking violets in the crowd are going to be drawn to a cannibal film, but it is certainly impressive: there’s one setpiece, involving cutting someone’s head in half, that’s gotta be one of the most bravura effects spectacles I’ve seen in a while. The excellent gore effects are made even more noticeable by contrast to the awful CGI, which seems to exist at a sub-mockbuster level. There’s never a point where the backgrounds look like anything less than a green screen: in one particularly egregious moment, the trio walk into the cheesiest CGI fog that has ever been committed to screen and I’ll go to my grave believing that. I can deal with dodgy SFX: growing up on Corman flicks has a tendency to lower one’s inherent expectations regarding B-movies. The CGI work in The Colony is so rudimentary, however, that it’s all but impossible to suspend disbelief anytime our intrepid group is outside (which is often enough to be a huge problem). Once we get to Colony 5, the film actually doesn’t look bad: close quarters seems to suit the filmmakers better than the wide-open, fake vistas of the surface world. The trip there, however, leaves a bit to be desired.

Ultimately, The Colony isn’t a bad film, although it is a cheesy, largely predictable one. While Fishburne and/or Paxton fans might be a little disappointed at the disposable performances here, fans of dystopic future, cannibal or “frozen world” scenarios might find at least a little something to sink their teeth into. Think of this as a poor man’s version of Snowpiercer (extremely poor, mind you), minus any of that film’s political or sociological significance: if that’s up your alley, pack your long johns and head for The Colony. Otherwise, you’d probably be better off just hibernating until spring.

1/31/15: The Galaxy According to Groot

Tags

Academy Award Nominee, action-adventure, aliens, based on a comic book, Ben Davis, Benicio del Toro, blockbusters, box office success, Bradley Cooper, Chris Pratt, cinema, co-writers, comic adaptations, comic book films, Dave Bautista, Djimon Hounsou, Drax, ensemble cast, favorite films, film reviews, films, Gamora, Glenn Close, Groot, Guardians of the Galaxy, James Gunn, John C. Reilly, Josh Brolin, Karen Gillan, Lee Pace, Lloyd Kaufman, Marvel comics, Michael Rooker, Movies, Nicole Perlman, Peter Quill, Rocket Raccoon, Ronan, sci-fi, science-fiction, Slither, special-effects extravaganza, Star Wars, Starlord, Super, superheroes, supervillains, Thanos, The Avengers, Troma films, Tyler Bates, Vin Diesel, writer-director, Zoe Saldana

Once upon a time, in a galaxy far, far away, writer-director James Gunn was but a lowly scribe pumping out scripts for bad-taste powerhouse Troma Pictures. Almost twenty years from his debut, the “Shakespeare-by-way-of-the-vomitorium” Tromeo and Juliet (1996), Gunn is responsible for Guardians of the Galaxy (2014), one of the biggest, brightest and most successful blockbusters of 2014 and, perhaps, the most “un-Marvel” of all Marvel comic adaptations. It may seem like an impossibly long and outrageously strange journey from Troma to the top of the charts, as it were, but anyone who’s followed Gunn’s career since his directorial debut, Slither (2006), knows that the signs were there all along: it’s just taken everybody else a little longer to figure it out, that’s all.

In many ways, Gunn’s Guardians of the Galaxy is the perfect antidote to the self-important, uber-serious comic book adaptations that have begun to clog the multiplexes. As comic film storylines continue to get darker, more cynical and more “mature,” ala the Dark Knight series, Avengers, et al, it’s refreshing to watch a big budget, tent-pole action-adventure film that’s indebted to the old days of Star Wars (1977) and Raiders of the Lost Ark (1981) and that largely eschews the self-flagellation, dreary visuals and po-faced acting of modern comic franchises. While GOTG is far from a perfect film, it’s never anything less than a complete blast to watch and handily establishes a new superhero team that promises some really awesome things for the future. Gunn has returned the “fun” to comic movies and, for me, it’s about damn time.

We begin on Earth, in 1988, with young Peter Quill (Wyat Oleff) at the bedside of his dying, cancer-stricken mother. Too upset to take her hand as she fades into nothingness, Peter runs outside and is promptly beamed up into a massive spaceship. 26 years later, Peter (Chris Pratt) is grown up and going by the name “Starlord.” He’s been working with the aliens that “captured” him ever since the incident, a group of scurrilous interstellar scavengers led by the blue-skinned Yondu Udonta (Michael Rooker).

When we first meet the adult Peter, he’s in the middle of recovering some sort of orb artifact for Yondu. After acquiring the artifact, Peter runs afoul of a group of heavily armed thugs, narrowly making his escape: he ends up on the shit-lists of both his former “employer” and the evil Ronan the Accuser (Lee Pace), your basic, everyday super-villain who wants to use the orb to destroy the planet that he so abjectly hates, Xandar. Ronan is an underling of Thanos (Josh Brolin), a massively powerful, godlike Titan who seeks to rule every galaxy he comes in contact with. Thanos’ “daughters,” Nebula (Karen Gillan) and Gamora (Zoe Saldana) work with Ronan and Gamora is dispatched to retrieve the orb from Peter.

Meanwhile, Peter has ended up in the sights of Rocket Raccoon (Bradley Cooper) and Groot (Vin Diesel), a pair of intergalactic bounty hunters and one of the funnest “odd couple” teams in some time. Rocket, a motor-mouthed, anthropomorphic and heavily-armed raccoon is the “brains” of the operation, while Groot is some sort of incredibly strong tree-creature who communicates with the sole phrase “I am Groot.” After engaging in a heated battle with Peter and Gamora, all four adventurers end up in the high-tech Xandarian prison known as the Kyln. Once there, the group meets up with Drax (Dave Bautista), a burly, impossibly literal warrior with a burning hatred for both Ronan and Gamora. Forming an uneasy alliance, the group work together to escape the prison. After learning the truth behind the orb and the limitless power it contains, Peter decides that he must keep it from Ronan at all costs. As Ronan’s forces mass against our intrepid heroes, however, and utter devastation gets closer and closer to the defenseless people of Xandar, the Guardians of the Galaxy will find themselves in the fight of their lives. At stake? Nothing less than the fate of all humanity. Are they up for the challenge? Well, they don’t call ’em the Guardians of the Galaxy for nothing, right?

From the early scene where Chris Pratt pops his headphones on and shimmies and bops across the alien temple, all the way to the epic final fight with Ronan, Gunn’s Guardians of the Galaxy is one ludicrously fun setpiece after another. For two hours, Gunn manages to keep the tone light and sprightly, despite such heavy subjects as massive destruction, individual death and the end of humanity as we know it. Anytime things threaten to get too weighty, Gunn throws in another nifty effects sequence, some funny jibber-jabber with Rocket or another breath-taking fight scene: there might be the occasional furrowed brow, here, but it’s always followed by some sort of fist-raising bit that keeps the dial firmly on the “fun” side.

As mentioned earlier, GOTG is actually more beholden to something like the original Star Wars than it is to any of the modern-day Marvel comic adaptations that it follows. There are certain moments in GOTG that fall within established comic film clichés (the obligatory “hero sacrificing” moment, the rather contrived “moments of doubt” that help bring the group closer together, the decidedly moldy scenes involving the Xandarian government wringing their hands) but the thing is much more a “space opera” than a straight-forward superhero film. If anything, GOTG is much closer in spirit and tone to del Toro’s Hellboy adaptations than The Avengers, etc.

Special-effects-wise, GOTG ranges from the absolutely stunning (some of the backgrounds are so beautiful that they should be framed) to the strangely obvious and slightly awkward (some of the compositing during the space-ship dog-fight scenes is oddly clunky and there are several instances of the CGI looking obviously fake and sterile). Many of the creature effects are achieved with makeup (hence the film’s Oscar nomination for Best Makeup), which is always a nice surprise, and there is certainly a massive amount of variety to the various creatures, aliens, locations and ships. Particularly noteworthy is the awesome Knowhere location, which channels the futuristic slums of Blade Runner (1982), as well as the Kyln, which reminds of things like the space cantina in Star Wars. While the film usually looks amazing, I found myself pulled out of the movie just often enough to wish that the effects-work was more consistent.

The film’s score, by composer Tyler Bates, is your standard-issue heroic space fare but special mention must be made of the oldies-oriented soundtrack, centered around Peter’s “Awesome Mixtape Vol. 1.” There are several scenes where the soundtrack really adds to the film, such as Peter’s opening exploration and the awesome slo-mo bit involving the Runaway’s “Cherry Bomb.” The songs help provide a nice juxtaposition between the film’s high-tech polish and its old-fashioned vibe and shows that Gunn’s attention to detail doesn’t just extend to the film’s visual aspects.

As with any comic film, casting becomes crucially important: as with most other aspects, GOTG is appropriately solid with its casting. While I’m not (quite) ready to crown Pratt as the next matinee hero, I’ll admit to finding him effortlessly likable, sweet and fairly kickass here. I wish that he was able to jettison a bit more of his “Andy-ness” (from Parks and Rec), though: at times, the character of Peter vacillates between seeming like a sweet doofus and a sarcastic, square-jawed hero, ala Han Solo. For my money, the square-jawed hero aspect works much better but this is also Pratt’s first real time in the “hero” seat, so there’s room for growth. Saldana is decent-enough as Gamora, although she doesn’t seem to get a whole lot to do. Ditto Bautista, as Drax, who gets some nice scenes but all too often seems to exist as a lot of background noise. I’ll admit to being less than thrilled with his ultra-literal method of thought/speech, which often feels like it reduces the character so something like an extraterrestrial Tarzan.

By and large, however, Cooper and Diesel handily steal much of the film as the unbeatable team of Rocket and Groot. In particular, Cooper is a revelation as Rocket: I’ll admit to taking almost everything Cooper does with a grain of salt (I am absolutely not ready to crown him one of the greatest actors of our generation, despite what the Academy seems to think) but I was over the moon with his take on the character. Despite being a mo-cap creation, Rocket ends up being (almost) the most realistic, “human” character in the film: I love his quips and snarkiness but the scene where he breaks down and bemoans his unnatural “creation” is a real powerhouse. While given decidedly less to do, at least vocally, Diesel ends up being the real heart of the film as Groot: using his physicality and some choice, if subtle, facial expressions, Diesel manages to make Groot unbelievably sweet, cool and relatable. Even better, Cooper and Diesel work fantastically well as a team: we absolutely buy their friendship and relationship, which adds tremendous emotional resonance to several latter-half plot developments.

On the acting down-side, we get a completely negligible performance from the normally reliable Gillan as Nebula (she’s ridiculously shouty, way too intense and never believable), a bit of a non-starter from Pace as Ronan (the character is interesting but Pace never does much with it and comes across as thoroughly anonymous) and less Rooker than he (and we) probably deserve. I’ll also toss a little shade at Glenn Close, who turns in one of those cookie-cutter performances that seems to come straight from the factory conveyor belt, as well as poor Benicio del Toro, who gets virtually nothing to do as The Collector.

As someone who grew up on Troma films, I’ve followed Gunn’s career from the get-go. While his debut, the gory, goofy, horror-comedy Slither felt like the natural post-Troma move for one of Lloyd Kaufman’s proteges, Gunn really came into his own with the followup, Super (2010). Using Rainn Wilson as an appropriately blank canvas, Gunn came up with a truly ingenious commentary on the superhero genre, one that managed to bleed all of the fantasy and mystique from caped crusaders and reveal the sad, damaged heart at the core of costumed vigilantism. For my money, GOTG absolutely feels like the next logical progression for Gunn: he’s increasingly finding ways to subvert the mainstream, sprinkling that trademark “Troma humor” atop some notably “un-Troma” types of film. There are plenty of examples to be found here but two of my favorites would have to the scene where Peter challenges Ronan to a dance-off (absolutely classic) and the laugh-out-loud bit where John C. Reilly’s Corpsman Dey makes the brilliant comment that he “doesn’t believe that anyone is 100% a dick.” Far from feeling like a neutered version of his earlier films, GOTG feels like Gunn just has a much bigger, more vibrant canvas to work with.

As someone who’s the furthest thing from a comic film fan, I wasn’t quite sure what to make of Guardians of the Galaxy before I actually sat down to watch it. While I’m a huge fan of Gunn’s work, I had the feeling that this might amount to “gun for hire” work, coming across as nothing more or less than a glossy waste of time. I’m familiar with the Guardians from my comic-reading youth but I haven’t actually cared about comic books since I was a kid: I’ve always viewed comic films as mindless entertainment, no more or less. I did enjoy The Avengers (2012) for what it was but I certainly don’t attach any measure of importance to it (or other Marvel projects, for that matter). In other words, I’m probably the absolute last person that this film was “made” for.

But you know what? I ended up kind of loving the film, anyway. While it’s not always smooth-sailing, GOTG has a tremendous amount of heart and is never anything less than full-bore entertaining. The cast and storyline are fun, the film is fast-paced and nothing gets bogged-down in undue sentimentality (or, at least, not for very long). Most importantly, nothing wears out its welcome: unlike the jaded, burned-out opinion I have of films like the Avengers series, I was ready for more GOTG as soon as the film ended. Rather than viewing the obligatory sequel with dread (already scheduled for 2017, apparently), I’m actually looking forward to the continued adventures of Starlord and friends. This could all change should the franchise get beaten into the dust, of course, but it all seems fresh and new at this stage: the far reaches of space, as they say, are the limit.

As a longtime fan of Gunn’s, I expected to enjoy aspects of Guardians of the Galaxy but I certainly wasn’t expecting to like the film as much as I did. For my money, GOTG was (probably) the best “spectacle” film of last year (aside from Edge of Tomorrow, perhaps) and yet another movie that made me regret my theatrical embargo: there were scenes and visuals, here, that I bet would have been absolutely mind-blowing on the big screen. Lesson learned, however: when Gunn is ready to get his next installment of Guardians of the Galaxy off the ground, I’ll be waiting at the box office, money in hand. I might not care for superhero films, for the most part, but I’m always ready and willing to watch a great director bring his A-game to an interesting project.

12/15/14 (Part One): Unidentified Flailing Object

Tags

Alien Abduction, alien abductions, aliens, Ben Sharples, Brown Mountain Lights, Brown Mountain North Carolina, chase films, children in peril, cinema, Corey Eid, families, family vacations, feature-film debut, film reviews, films, found-footage, found-footage films, government secrets, horror, horror films, isolation, Jeff Bowser, Jillian Clare, Jordan Turchin, Katherine Sigismund, Kelley Hinman, low-budget films, Matty Beckerman, Movies, Peter Holden, Project Bluebook, Riley Polanski, Robert Lewis, sci-fi-horror, UFOs

Why is it generally not a good idea to open a film with the resolution? I’m not talking about the rather de rigueur habit of giving us a glimpse of the climax before working backwards – that particular tactic has been done successfully multiple times, most recently by Big Ass Spider (2013). No, I mean beginning a film with the entire resolution before jumping backwards, playing everything through linearly and then concluding with the very same resolution that began the film. Just speaking for myself, mind you, I can think of one very important reason why this is a bad idea: the last thing you want to end a film with is a hum-drum, “seen it before” conclusion, especially if the audience has already been shown said climax earlier. I’m not saying that everything needs (or even should) end with a twist or a surprise but leading with your climax is like beginning a joke with the punchline and still expecting your audience to laugh at the end.

As should be fairly obvious by now, Matty Beckerman’s found-footage alien film, Alien Abduction (2014), does exactly what I just complained about above. More’s the pity, since the conclusion in question is pretty damn awesome: visually eye-catching, well-staged, creepy as hell and suitably shocking, it would have been a great way to end a film. Hell, it still IS a great way to end a film, even though we see the exact same scene, verbatim, at the very beginning of the film. I can understand being proud of a perfectly executed scene, don’t get me wrong, but the sense of deja vu I felt going into the film’s final five minutes kind of defeated the purpose. Again, more’s the pity, since Alien Abduction is actually a pretty decent, albeit less than essential, found-footage film and ends up being a fairly thrilling ride for most of its 85 minute runtime.

Beginning with a note that “this is actually leaked footage from classified Air Force files,” we get some standard-issue “talking head” interview stuff about aliens, particularly as related to the Brown Mountain area of North Carolina. Apparently, a phenomena known as the “Brown Mountain Lights” has been documented in that part of the country for some time now, a phenomena which has also been tied in to several unexplained disappearances. We’re told about a secret government project know as Project Bluebook (about time someone helped car buyers!) that monitors and studies alien and UFO activity. One of the cases has to do with the disappearance of 11-year-old Riley Morris (Riley Polanski), whose camcorder was recovered even though his body, along with those of his family, was never found. Alien Abduction, then, supposedly consists of Riley’s found-footage. As should be pretty clear by now, The Blair Witch Project (1999) is a pretty big influence here, right down to some of those patented “cry into the camera” shots.

We now meet the Morris family as they set out for a fun weekend of camping in the Brown Mountains (dun dun duuuuun!): parents Katie (Katherine Sigismund) and Peter (Peter Holden) and their kids, autistic Riley and his siblings, Jillian (Jillian Clare) and Corey (Corey Eid). Since this is a found-footage film, we get plenty of footage of the family goofing around in their truck on the drive over there (the filming aspect is explained by Riley’s constant need to film everything). As with most films (and scenes) like this, we don’t really get a whole lot of anything here but, ya know, it’s part of the trope, so why not?

That night, after settling down at their first campsite, the kids happen to see strange, “intelligent” lights in the sky, lights which form some sort of pattern before zooming away. Their parents, as can be expected, are slightly less than convinced, however. On their way to the next campsite in the morning (apparently, the family has a thing about spending the night in every campsite they come to), they begin to deal with some pretty standard horror movie issues: none of their phones get a signal, the truck’s GPS is on the fritz and a mysterious rain/fog has popped up out of nowhere to make everything nice and ominous. Did I mention that they’re also dangerously low on gas? Because they totally are, dontcha know.

As they continue to drive, the family begin to pass a series of stopped vehicles: the various vehicles appear to have just stopped in random places, with the doors open, lights on and all personal belongings still inside. They make their way to a creepy tunnel, which appears to be jam-packed with more stalled vehicles, including a police cruiser. Proceeding through the tunnel, the group is suddenly confronted with a blinding light and, for lack of a better word, a pretty stereotypical alien (close your eyes and you already know what it looks like, trust me). From this point on (with an hour to go), the film becomes a relentless chase picture, with the family running in desperation from the alien. Along the way, they meet a redneck hunter with a thing for guns (Jess Bowser) and get involved in situations that seem an awful lot like video game segments, especially when everything is filmed in a first-person “put you right in the action” kind of way. This leads directly to the already-seen conclusion with nary a detour to the left or right along the way. Roll credits.

Despite being rather underwhelmed by Alien Abduction, it’s actually not a bad little film at all. There’s plenty of eerie atmosphere to be found on the way to the tunnel sequence and that first/final scene is a real home-run. I also have to give extreme kudos to the filmmakers for actually managing to film an hour-long chase scene: while it’s not perfectly executed (again, just a little to “video-game-rail-shooter” for my tastes), it’s still a nicely ambitious tack to take, especially when something less ambitious would have gotten the job done.

On the other hand, however, there’s also plenty of stuff here that drags the film down like an albatross. The acting, as can be expected with many found-footage films, is functional, at best, and silly, at worst. Chief offender here would definitely have to be Peter Holden as the father: after finding him to be one of the worst parts of the recent Under the Bed (2013), I was rather chagrined to see his name in the credits for this one. As expected, he’s rather awful, although he does get some competition from Jeff Bowser as the redneck and Corey Eid as the oldest son. Katherine Sigimund and Jillian Clare end up coming out the best, acting-wise, but that’s mostly because they don’t stick out as much as the others.

The film is also tonally inconsistent, swinging wildly from subtle chills to klaxon-blasting jump scares, sometimes within the same scene. Rather than keeping me off-balance, I found the back-and-forth to be extremely irritating: had the film decided to be either a balls-to-the-wall rollercoaster or a creepy slow-burner, it would have been a much better movie. There are also a few moments where the film’s low-budget shows through, although the film’s key moment (again, that stellar opening/conclusion) actually looks pretty great. The alien costume/makeup is pretty good, too, from what we can see of it, although I wish they’d been a little more original with the look; by contrast, the aliens in the “painting” segment of All Hallows’ Eve (2014) looked a whole lot more original and scary than what we get here.

As a low-budget first feature, Alien Abduction definitely shows that director Beckerman has some potential: I’m really curious to see what he does with something a little more ambitious (and original) next time. If you’re the kind of person who relishes the opportunity to watch any found-footage film, you could probably do a lot worse than Alien Abduction: it’s not the most flawless example of this type of thing but it’s far from the worst. On the other hand, this exact same idea has already been done recently (and better) in the aforementioned All Hallows’ Eve and Jason Eisener’s excellent “Slumber Party Alien Abduction” segment of V/H/S 2 (2013). With so many choices already out there, Alien Abduction just doesn’t do quite enough to stick out from the crowd. Close, as they say, but definitely no cigar.

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

Tags

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.

10/13/14 (Part One): Going to the Dogs

Tags

31 Days of Halloween, action films, aliens, auteur theory, British films, Centurion, Chris Robson, cinema, cult classic, Darren Morfitt, Dog Soldiers, dogs, Doomsday, Emma Cleasby, extreme violence, feature-film debut, Film auteurs, film reviews, films, horror films, horror movies, isolation, James Cameron, Kevin McKidd, Leslie Simpson, Liam Cunningham, Movies, Neil Marshall, Sam McCurdy, Sean Pertwee, soldiers, The Descent, Thomas Lockyer, war games, werewolves, writer-director-editor

Like horror-comedies, action and horror hybrids walk a pretty fine line: too much of the action side of things and you get, well, an action film. A film which features endless scenes of zombies engaged in bone-crunching MMA action might be thrilling but it probably won’t be very blood-chilling. Likewise, traditional zombies that pop out of the background, stumble around and bite people might be horrifying and blood-chilling but probably won’t elicit the kinds of fist-pumping responses we might get from our mixed-martial artist gut-munchers. It’s a real formula, in a way, a formula which very few films really get right. The gold standard for these types of horror-action hybrids, as far as I’m concerned, is James Cameron’s classic Aliens (1986), the direct sequel to Ridley Scott’s horrifying sci-fi classic. Coming in at a close second, however, would have to be writer-director Neil Marshall’s extraordinary feature-film debut, Dog Soldiers (2002). Soldiers fighting werewolves? It doesn’t get much more thrilling than that, friends and neighbors.

As befits its no-nonsense style, Dog Soldiers jumps us into the action fairly quickly and keeps the accelerator floored for the majority of its running time. A small squadron of British soldiers, led by Sgt. Harry Wells (Sean Pertwee) and including Pvt. Cooper (Kevin McKidd) among their ranks, are in the Scottish Highlands for a run-of-the-mill training exercise. They seem to be a good bunch of guys, close-knit and good at what they do: we’ve already spent a little time with Cooper as he tries out for a Special Forces position and know that he’s a helluva fighter with a strong moral center and a particular respect for dogs, which seems to befit the protagonist of a werewolf film.

In short order, our intrepid group of soldiers begins to get the idea that things might not be as copacetic as they originally thought: they constantly hear odd noises in the surrounding forest and someone/thing tosses a slaughtered cow in their general direction, which would be enough to unnerve just about anyone. The situation gets even more extreme once they stumble onto the destroyed campsite of Capt. Ryan (Liam Cunningham) and his Special Forces unit. Ryan was the son of a bitch from the intro to shot the innocent dog but he appears to have seen much better days: he’s cut up pretty bad and looks as white as a ghost. He’s also babbling that “They tore them apart!” and the even more sinister, “There was only supposed to be one!”

Faster than you can say “Full moon,” the squadron are under siege and end up taking refuge with a passing Good Samaritan (Emma Cleasby) at a nearby abandoned farmhouse. As the enraged werewolves try to storm their meager safe house, the soldiers must band together against a foe that seems to be not supernaturally strong but also unbelievably cunning and vicious. There’s more than meets the eye here, however, and the odious Capt. Ryan appears to be right at the very heart of the mystery. What is the secret behind their hirsute attackers and will any of them survive to greet the new day?

Horror films have incorporated action elements for generations but this really became explicit with the rise of horror franchises, such as Friday the 13th and A Nightmare on Elm Street, in the ’80s. One of the conventions of these type of films, perhaps best exemplified in something like A Nightmare on Elm Street 3: The Dream Warriors (1987), are the scenes where the protagonists engage in heated battle with the main villain. These “action” moments are almost always qualified, however, with the knowledge that the “normal” people are never a match for foes like Jason or Freddy: they might temporarily get the upper hand (at least until the finale) but they’re way to “wimpy” to ever pose any real threat to these super-strong monsters. This is one reason why Scott’s Alien (1979) can be considered a horror film, whereas Cameron’s follow-up is distinctly horror-action: in Alien, the human characters (with the exception of Ripley) are all too weak to even finish off one Xenomorph, let alone a handful of them. The hat-trick that Aliens pulls, then, is to give us a group of protagonists who are utterly and completely badass: Space marines, as it turns out, and set them loose against the alien menace.  This way, we don’t question when the marines are kicking alien ass up one side and down the other (although this doesn’t happen quite as easily as I’ve, obviously, made it sound) because that’s what rough-and-tumble space marines are supposed to do: kick ass.

By making our protagonists tough-guy soldiers, Dog Soldiers levels the playing field quite a bit and allows us to suspend disbelief for the resulting action sequences. We don’t question that these guys have sharp reflexes and are able survivalists because, well, that’s kind of what we expect of soldiers. Since the opponents are more evenly matched (at least slightly more, as the werewolves are still towering, mountainous and furry buzzsaws), this allows for a more even balance between the action and horror elements. There are genuine horror elements in the film, not least of which is the ultimate “reveal” about the werewolves identities, which are allowed to play out at a more leisurely pace. For the most part, however, Dog Soldiers definitely plays like one all-out action sequence after another, similar to the way that Dario Argento liberally sprinkled murder set-pieces throughout his early classics.

For a debut film, Dog Soldiers is a remarkably assured and nearly flawless construction. Marshall also handled the editing of the film and displays a deft talent for putting action scenes together in fast-paced and evocative yet clear ways: this isn’t the chaotic chop-chop editing of Greengrass’ The Bourne Ultimatum (2007) but something that’s altogether more fluid, with characters being much more delineated on the screen. The cinematography, by extension, is also crystal clear and sharp: Sam McCurdy, the director of photography on all of Marshall’s films, thus far, has a real eye for color and detail that gives the proceedings a rich look.

Effects-wise, Dog Soldiers is a complete marvel: the violence is sudden, harsh and well-done, while the creature effects are simply stunning, recalling nothing so much as Rick Baker’s groundbreaking work on The Howling (1981). Unlike films that hide their monsters behind shadows and off the edge of the frame, Dog Soldiers is (rightfully) proud of its lycanthropes and takes every opportunity possible to trot them before the camera. Thanks to the stellar effects work, the creatures look equally imposing whether shot in a long shot or in close up: you won’t see any zippers on these costumes.

One of the most important aspects of any “squadron-based film,” of course, is the effectiveness of the ensemble cast: as with everything else, Dog Soldiers knocks this out of the park. Sean Pertwee does a great job as the Sarge who just wants to get his guys out of the shit and Kevin McKidd (from TV’s Rome) injects enough grit into his performance of Pvt. Cooper to prevent the character from seeming like too much of a “goody-goody” cliché. Cunningham is a rather teeth-gnashing, over-the-top villain, but the performance ends up working, perhaps because it gives the group someone entirely more “manageable” to fight against.

One aspect of Dog Soldiers that sets it a bit apart from similar films (and parallels it with Cameron’s Aliens) is the film’s overall serious tone and intent: while there are the occasional clever one-liners and cheeky moments, the emphasis is definitely on adrenaline over the easy release that comic relief affords. Truth be told, the film’s funniest moment is also one of its most badass: as Spoon (Darren Morfitt) is about to be devoured by a werewolf, he tosses out the immortal retort, “I hope I give you the shits, you fucking wimp!” Epic, indeed.

For my money, Neil Marshall is, hands-down, one of the single most impressive genre directors in the business. While I’ve enjoyed some of his films more than others (Dog Soldiers and The Descent (2005) occupy a pretty lofty perch, whereas Doomsday (2008) and Centurion (2010) reside a bit closer to solid ground), I’ve never been anything less than completely entertained with any of his work: he’s the kind of director that can get me excited for any project, sight unseen, and is a filmmaker that I expect to follow for several good decades to come. It’s always handy, however, to go back to the beginning and see how it all started. For Marshall, it started with this thrilling, edge-of-the-seat classic about werewolves and the soldiers who fight them and it doesn’t show any signs of stopping anytime soon. Utterly essential for genre fans and anyone who relishes a ripping good, military-themed action film.

10/12/14 (Part Two): Zombies, Aliens and Meteors…Oh My!

Tags

31 Days of Halloween, aliens, Australian films, Australian horror films, cinema, co-directors, co-writers, Daybreakers, Dead Alive, Dirk Hunter, Edgar Wright, Emma Randall, feature-film debut, Felicity Mason, film reviews, films, Gaynor Wensley, gore films, horror-comedies, infections, meteor, Michael Spierig, Movies, Mungo McKay, Peter Jackson, Peter Spierig, Rob Jenkins, sci-fi, sci-fi-horror, small town life, the Spierig Brothers, triple shotgun, twist ending, undead, writer-director, zombie, zombie film, zombies

For the most part, it’s extremely hard to surprise me with a twist in a horror film. This has nothing to do with me being some sort of super-astute audience member (although I like to think that I pay careful attention will watching) and everything to do with the fact that I’ve spent the majority of my life watching every single horror flick I could get my hands on. Trust me: if I’ve seen some of this shit once, I’ve seen it a hundred thousand times. “It was only a dream” ending? Check. Unreliable narrator? Yup. “I see dead people?” That one sounds familiar. How about that old classic “It was only a dream but now it’s about to come true?” Yawn. “We were ghosts all along?” Sounds familiar. “This desolate wasteland is actually Earth?” Move along, folks…nothing to see here. For the most part, cinematic twists are like any other aspect of pop films: if it worked once, conventional wisdom says that it will work forever, ad infinitum.

The first time that I sat down to watch the Spierig Brothers’ (Michael and Peter) feature-debut, Undead (2003), I was pretty sure that I knew what I would be getting in for. This was a modern-day zombie film, so I was pretty sure this was either going to follow the Shaun of the Dead (2004) mode (although Undead actually preceded Wright’s British rom-zom-com) or Zack Snyder’s ultra self-referential Dawn of the Dead (2004) remake (although Undead actually came before that one, too). It was an Australian film, so I was pretty sure that it would be suitably gory and/or rather insane, as Aussie genre films are wont to be. At the time, I didn’t really know much more about the film than that: it was just the newest genre film that I’d yet to see, which pretty much made it must-see for me, sight unseen.

Little did I know, of course, that Undead is anything but your average zombie film. Hell, it’s not really like your average anything, to be honest: if I had to classify the film, I’d say that it exists in a suitably daffy territory somewhere between Peter Jackson’s classic gore comedy Dead Alive (1992) and Edgar Wright’s gonzo alien-invasion comedy The World’s End (2013). It’s a zombie film, to be sure, but it’s also an alien invasion film that features deadly acid rain, a hulking, nearly silent hero with a triple-shotgun and a happy-go-lucky finale that’s like a sloppy make-out session between Close Encounters of the Third Kind (1977) and Stephen King’s Under the Dome. It’s a gore film, through and through, featuring some mighty impressive practical effects mixed in with some less than thoroughly convincing CGI but it’s also a good-natured, character-based comedy that places a premium on convincing acting and keeps the scenery chewing to a bare minimum. In short, Undead isn’t really like any one thing: it’s more like the rag-tag Voltron of out-of-control exploitation cinema, come to save the world while tearing as many people in half as possible. It is, to be honest, a complete treasure.

Since part of the unmitigated joy of watching Undead involves all of the ingenious little ways in which co-writers/directors Michael and Peter Spierig constantly screw with expectations, it behooves me to say as little about the actual plot as possible. Suffice to say that the film begins with a meteor shower, turns into a zombie apocalypse film and then proceeds to morph into something completely batshit crazy. While I’ve referenced several things that would seem to give a pretty good indication of the film’s intended direction, nothing can really prepare one for the bizarre ways in which the Spierigs decide to connect the dots. The best advise I can give with the film is to go in as blissfully unaware as possible and just surrender yourself to the insanity. Trust that the Spierigs will get you from Point A to Point Z intact (despite how insane the film becomes, it always makes perfect, if cracked, sense which is something of a minor miracle) and just get to the business of enjoying the film.

And, boy howdy, is there a lot to enjoy here. Despite the occasionally dodgy effect (the CGI sky, in particular, never looks quite right), Undead is an absolute special effects marvel, filled with one eye-popping setpiece after another. Picking favorites is kind of moot, since they’re all so good but particular standouts would definitely include the amazing convenience-store battle (the makeshift broom/circular saw weapon would make Ash weep with joy) and the bit where Marion (Mungo McKay) strides through the landscape bare-ass naked, wasting zombies just as ruthlessly as when his delicate bits were covered up. The finale is a completely gonzo joy and the seemingly never-ending zombie mayhem is handled with as much cheeky aplomb as the similar material in Jackson’s Dead Alive, pretty much the gold standard for these types of films.

In most horror/action films, you’re lucky if you get one truly great hero: Undead actually gives you two, the aforementioned absolute badass Marion and the film’s heroine, Rene (Felicity Mason). In any other film, a character like Marion would steal the film from the rest of the cast and head straight for the hills: how in the hell are you supposed to compete with a one-man zombie kill-squad who carries a triple-shotgun and comes straight out of the “Man With No Name” school of near-silent asskickery? One iconic character isn’t enough for Undead, however, since we also get Rene, a former beauty contest winner who ends up being the most no-nonsense, take charge, ass-kicking heroine since Ripley had a little problem with an uninvited interstellar guest. While McKay and Mason are both absolutely amazing performers, they’re handily supported by a better-than-average cast, including Emma Randall as an asthma inhaler-armed deputy and Dirk Hunter as a ridiculously macho gun-nut police officer who constantly attempts to assume authority without ever actually assuming it.

From a craft-point, Undead is an exceptionally well-made film. There’s a sense of whimsy to the proceedings that helps to temper the extreme violence (and Undead is extremely violent, no two ways about it), in a similar strategy to Dead Alive, and the film is full of nuance and subtlety, despite the filmmakers’ “go-for-broke” approach to the craft. The movie never feels silly, however, and proudly earns each and every one of its horror beats: this is a full-throttle horror film, first and foremost, despite the wealth of laugh-out-loud moments. And laugh-out-loud moments there are aplenty: Marion engaging in fisticuffs with a zombified fish…Rene cutting a zombie in half with a steering wheel club…Dept. Harrison assuring everyone that “people hallucinate sometimes when they panic…I know that I do,” which has to rank as the last thing you want to hear a cop say in an emergency…Marion hanging upside down from the door frame, by his spurs, and blowing away zombies left and right…as I said earlier, it’s literally one amazing setpiece after another for the better part of 90 minutes.

The Spierig Brothers would go on to make Daybreakers (2009), the Ethan Hawke-led vampire film, although that’s a solid step down from what’s on display here. Like Peter Jackson, the Spierigs are at their absolute best when indulging all of their (many) whims: larger budgets and the participation of more “respectable” agencies just seem to dilute their impact. While there’s nothing terrible wrong with Daybreakers, there’s also nothing particularly exceptional about it, either: when compared with Undead, however, the deficiencies become that much more glaring.

Like Dead Alive, Undead will absolutely not be for everyone’s tastes. It’s hard not to oversell the film’s violence and gore quotient but sensitive souls should take note: the film thrives on graphic dismemberment and bodily explosions in a way that indicates that New Zealand and Australia might be close, geographically, but they’re even closer, cinematically. The film might not revel quite as much in the over-the-top obscenity of Jackson’s classic (you won’t find any zombie wombs in this, period, much less ones large enough to stuff a protagonist into) but it never shirks on either the red stuff or clever ideas, either. And there’s actually one point on which Undead absolutely trumps Dead Alive: while Dead Alive had a rip-roaring finale that made you want to pump your fist in the air, Undead has a mind-blowingly cerebral one that really makes you think about everything that came before. Bloody, hilarious and thought-provoking? Without a doubt, Undead is the real deal: if your stomach is strong enough, give this a try and meet your new favorite film.

10/11/14 (Part Two): Who Goes There?

Tags

31 Days of Halloween, aliens, Arctic setting, auteur theory, based on a short story, Charles Hallahan, classic films, cult classic, David Clennon, Dean Cundey, Donald Moffat, dopplegangers, Ennio Morricone, favorite films, Film auteurs, horror films, isolation, Joel Polis, John Carpenter, Keith David, Kurt Russell, paranoia, Peter Maloney, remakes, Richard Dysart, Richard Masur, sci-fi, sci-fi-horror, scientists, shape-shifters, T.K. Carter, The Thing, Thomas Waites, Wilford Brimley

Although we horror film fanatics tend to be a fairly diverse bunch, there are still a handful of films that are pretty much accepted as canon by discerning viewers. This doesn’t, of course, mean to speak for everyone: many fans who call themselves horror fanatics have no interest in the genre’s history, past or anything more academic than watching the newest collection of gore scenes. I’ve long argued that horror is a genre and field as worthy of deep exploration as any other but it doesn’t change the fact that many viewers are still just after a visceral, momentary experience.

For every “casual” fan of the genre, however, there are plenty of what could best be described as “rabid” fans, folks who live, breathe, eat and sleep the stuff, tearing into everything from silent, black and white films to the newest CGI spectacles. For these fans, there are a few films that have managed to stand out from the crowd, proving endlessly influential and sources of much repeat viewings and continued exploration: Night of the Living Dead (1968), The Texas Chainsaw Massacre (1974), Halloween (1978), the classic Universal monster films, A Nightmare on Elm Street (1984), Peeping Tom (1960), Psycho (1960) and The Exorcist (1973) are but a small handful of the films that would probably show up on most hardcore horror fans “Best of” lists. One would be remiss, of course, if they didn’t also include one of the single most influential, popular and well-made horror films of the ’80s: John Carpenter’s ferocious, ground-breaking and utterly essential sci-horror masterpiece, The Thing (1982).

Although I’m pretty sure that almost everyone is, at the very least, familiar with the basics behind The Thing, the plot is pure simplicity. A team of American scientists at a remote research base in the frozen Arctic come into contact with something decidedly not of this world after they run into a group of Norwegian scientists who are violently pursuing a seemingly innocent dog. What at first seems like an extreme case of “snow madness” is soon revealed to be something much more terrifying: the dog is actually a grotesque, shape-shifting alien organism. The creature is cunning, quick and extremely hungry: with the Norwegians out of the picture, the Americans become the new snack du jour. As resourceful, gung-ho chopper pilot R.J. MacReady (Kurt Russell, in one of his most iconic roles) takes command of the increasingly paranoid and frightened group, he’s faced with a real devil’s dilemma: since the monster can look and act like any of them, how do the men really know which of them are from planet Earth and which are from a location just a little further away in our galaxy?

Full disclosure: I’ve been a pretty nutso fan of Carpenter’s classic ever since I first saw the movie, an impression that hasn’t changed one iota in all the years since. To be frank, The Thing is just about as perfect as a film gets, a classic case of intention meeting craft in a perfect creative spark. As I’ve gotten older, I’ve been able to appreciate different aspects of the film: when I was younger, I was all about the ooky effects, rewatching the key setpieces so often that I practically had the creature’s movements memorized. Now that I have a few years under my belt and have become a little more jaded regarding special effects in films, I find myself focusing more on the film’s exquisite use of location and the exceptional ensemble cast: I still dig the ever-lovin’ shit out of the effects scenes, don’t get me wrong, but the subtler aspects of the film are the ones that really push it from something special to something essential.

There’s so much about The Thing that exemplifies the film as one of the very apices of the horror film genre, a perfect storm of disparate elements. There’s Carpenter’s sure-handed, expert direction, of course: the auteur is one of the very best filmmakers for combining action and horror into one Voltron of awesomeness and he has a rare eye for background detail that adds immeasurable tension to every frame of the film. The film was shot by Dean Cundey, the masterful cinematographer responsible for everything from Halloween to D.C. Cab (1983) and Jurassic Park (1993): the film looks absolutely gorgeous and Cundey is expert at making the principal characters seem as small and insignificant against the unforgiving immensity of the Arctic wasteland as possible. The score was done by the iconic Ennio Morricone, the creator of some of the most legendary, unforgettable film scores in the history of the medium. While Carpenter’s self-made synth scores have always a particular highlight of his films, Morricone’s epic, sweeping score really adds a new layer to the proceedings. The groundbreaking practical effects work was done by industry pioneer Rob Bottin and would go on to influence at least the next generation of effects creators, if not more.

And then, of course, there’s that cast. Jeez…what a cast. Taking a cue from Ridley Scott’s Alien (1979), Carpenter stocks his film with some of the best character and genre actors in the biz, ensuring that no one comes across as generic “cannon fodder.” Kurt Russell…Wilford Brimley…Richard Masur…Keith David…Richard Dysart…Donald Moffat…each and every performer brings their A-game to the proceedings, adding up to one hell of an ensemble performance. The shining star of the group, of course, is Russell: while he’s been behind some of the most iconic action heroes in cinema (any conversation about kick-ass heroes that doesn’t include Snake Plissken is fundamentally flawed from the jump), MacReady is easily one of the highlights. We first meet Russell’s character as he plays computer chess: when the machine beats him, MacReady pours his bourbon down its access panel, shorting the computer out. Classic Kurt, in other words. Regardless of what’s happening on-screen, Russell is always the magnetic, undeniable center of everything: MacReady is one of the great screen creations and much of the credit for this must go to Russell’s inspired performance.

In fact, the cast is so perfect that my one quibble with the film’s actors has always been the same: I’m disappointed that there are no strong female characters here, ala Alien or Aliens (1986). There are certainly room for them, as the previously mentioned examples state. While some have pointed out that an isolated research station wouldn’t be co-ed, this has always seemed like a rather spurious assumption: after all, women have been successfully integrated into many such films (Aliens pretty much makes and ends this argument, thanks not only to Ripley’s character but the other female space marines, as well).

Integration complaint aside, The Thing really is a perfect film. It’s unbelievably tense, expertly crafted, looks amazing and is an absolute blast to watch. So many of the film’s setpieces have been burned into my brain over the years that it’s hard to imagine a world without them: the dog transformation…the hot wire and the blood…the defibrillator gone horribly amok…the spider-head…the cynical, utterly badass ending…the jaw-dropping reveal of the UFO…to be honest, a good 80% of the film plays like a highlights reel, similar to an award-winning band that scores eight hit singles out of ten on their album. I attempted to watch The Thing with as critical an eye as possible, this time around, but my earlier impressions were all just reaffirmed: this thing really is one of the all-time classics. I can’t even knock the film down a few points for being a remake of the Howard Hawk’s classic The Thing From Another World (1951), since it’s one of the few remakes to not only do justice to the original but to improve upon it in pretty much every way: Carpenter’s film has never felt like a cash-grab to me, like other remakes. The Thing has always seemed like a complete labor of love, pure and simple.

As someone who constantly finds myself re-examining and re-evaluating my impressions and opinions on films, I find that my “Best of” lists are, likewise, in constant flux. One thing that’s always remained constant, however, is my love and appreciation for Carpenter’s film. I’m not sure that I’ve ever left The Thing off of a list, to this point, and I can all but guarantee that I probably never will.

10/6/14 (Part One) Et Tu, Spock?

Tags

'70s films, 31 Days of Halloween, alien invasion, alien spores, aliens, Art Hindle, based on, Brooke Adams, cinema, classic films, clones, cult classic, Don Siegel, Donald Sutherland, films, films review, hobo-faced dogs, Invasion of the Body Snatchers, Jeff Goldblum, Kevin McCarthy, Leonard Nimoy, Michael Chapman, Movies, outer space, Philip Kaufman, pod people, pop psychology, remakes, San Francisco, sci-fi-horror, set in the 1970s, Veronica Cartwright, W.D. Richter

As a general rule, I don’t care for remakes, finding them to be alternately lazy, creatively bankrupt and, in worst case scenarios, downright offensive to the original property. That being said, there are always exceptions to every rule and I must admit that I do swear loyalty to a handful of remakes. John Carpenter’s remake of The Thing (1982) is the definitive version of that tale, despite not being the first. I’ll always feel that Gore Verbinski’s version of The Ring (2002) is a more frightening film than Ringu (1998) and I’ve always enjoyed Philip Kaufman’s version of Invasion of the Body Snatchers (1978) more than Don Siegel’s 1956 original.

For the record, there’s not much wrong with the original version of Invasion, despite my predilection for the remake. Siegel’s always been one of my favorite directors and he brings a taut, razors’ edge sense of tension to many of the film’s scenes. Kevin McCarthy is a more than able hero and the shadow of the McCarthy Red Scare that hovers over everything is just as palpable a menace as those sinister pod people ever were. That being said, the 1956 version is not without its problems. The framing device, added at the insistence of the producers, dilutes the film to a considerable degree and the movie definitely comes off as more dated than many of its contemporaries. In many ways, the original version of Invasion of the Body Snatchers is a product of its time, although its never been anything less than imminently watchable in the nearly 60 years since its release.

Kaufman’s re-do begins with one of the single most inventive intros I’ve ever seen, a superbly imaginative four-minute-epic that tracks the titular alien spores from their home planet, through the vast reaches of space and down onto the Earth’s surface via rain and condensation. Scored like an old-fashioned nature show, the sequence is a real eye-popper and sets a pretty high bar for the rest of the film. The effects in this scene, particularly the one where the leaf becomes “infected” and grows a pod, are superb, allowing for a pretty decent suspension of disbelief. The sequence also allows for a smooth transition into the film, proper, as we witness one of our protagonists, Elizabeth (Brooke Adams) pick the resulting flower off the plant: with that, we officially begin our descent into sci-fi madness.

Elizabeth works for the San Francisco Department of Health (the city’s various sights and locations are utilized to good effect throughout the film), where she works side by side with Matt (Donald Sutherland), our other erstwhile protagonist. Matt’s a stoic, by-the-book health inspector who brooks absolutely no bullshit from anyone: one of the film’s many highlights is the introductory scene where Matt finds a rat turd in a restaurant’s soup cauldron, only for the manager to argue that it’s a caper. After going back and forth for a few moments, Matt holds the offending item out to the manager: “If it’s a caper, go ahead and eat it.” Game, set, match.

The body snatching really begins in earnest after Elizabeth brings the sprouting pod home to her boyfriend, Geoffrey (Art Hindle). Geoffrey is kind of a jerk, right off the bat, but he gets distinctly odder after a little exposure to the unknown flora: he becomes rather strange and emotionless, leading Elizabeth to tell best friend Matt that her boyfriend isn’t himself…as in, really isn’t himself and might actually be someone else. Matt thinks his gal pal is going a little loony until his friendly neighborhood laundry owner makes the same strange comment about his wife. Something, clearly, is afoot.

After Elizabeth tails her husband and witnesses him handing off strange packages to various strangers around town, she’s pretty sure that her initial suspicions are correct: Geoffrey is involved in something very odd and, potentially, very bad. In the interest of “helping” his friend, Matt takes her to see his friend, Dr. David Kibner (Leonard Nimoy), a pop-psychologist who’s seen more than his fair share of these “Person X is not Person X” cases lately. Meanwhile, Matt’s other friends, Jack (Jeff Goldblum) and Nancy Bellicec (Veronica Cartwright), have found something a little strange at their bathhouse: a partially formed humanoid that bears a striking, if rudimentary, resemblance to Jack. In one of the film’s most chilling moments, Nancy watches the humanoid’s eyes spring open at the exact moment that Jack’s close: the clone also has a nose bleed, just like Jack. It would seem that Elizabeth was right, all along: something very strange and terrible is going on.

As the situation around them continues to spiral out of control, Matt, Elizabeth, Jack and Nancy have only themselves to rely on, as any and everyone around them, including the police and government authorities, might very well be “pod people.” The group must also avoid sleeping, if at all possible, since that seems to be when the transformations become complete, resulting in a fully formed clone and a pile of dust where the “real” person used to be. Paranoia, both real and induced by lack of sleep, ensues and the group sees danger wherever they turn. With no one else to turn to, Matt seeks the counsel of Dr. Kibner but is the good doctor really on their side? Or has he become a part of something much bigger, something which could very well spell the end of humanity as we know it?

Above all, Kaufman’s version of Invasion of the Body Snatchers is one sustained chill after another, punctuated by several setpieces that tip the film into full-blown horror territory. There’s one moment, shocking for how untelegraphed it is, where Matt splatters his clone’s head with a hoe: in a film that’s remarkably restrained as far as violence goes, it’s a truly bracing, horrific moment. The film’s piece de resistance, however, has to be the skin-crawling sequence where Matt dozes on the lawn while pod people form on the grass around him. Not only is the scene unbelievably tense, as we, literally, are watching Matt sleep his life away but the effects are astoundingly grotesque and rather nasty, with the forming pod people resembling nothing so much as the soupy mess at the center of the exploitation class The Incredible Melting Man (1977). It’s a great scene, one that has no equal in the original film. Likewise, the discovery of Jack’s clone is handled with considerably more tension and rising horror than the parallel scene in the first film.

Overall, Kaufman’s remake has a slightly different focus than the original: whereas Siegel’s original bemoaned the increasing lack of cohesion within America, as an outside force sought to drive us apart, the remake takes the much more paranoid viewpoint that we, as individuals, are hopelessly surrounded by mobs of sinister, conspiring others. It’s the same notion that makes us believe people are talking about us from behind their hands or planning some terrible event whenever they meet in secret: it’s the modern notion that no individual should have privacy or secrets in order to “protect” the masses that drives such modern institutes as the NSA. Kaufman’s version of Invasion of the Body Snatchers makes the point that sinister groups of people probably are making sinister plans at this very minute: how would we really know?

Despite enjoying McCarthy’s performance in the original quite a bit, I’m much more taken by Sutherland’s performance in the remake. Channeling the same sort of “lovably assholish genius” that Hugh Laurie mined for years in the TV show, House, Sutherland is a thoroughly charismatic presence. Brooke Adams, likewise, is a great relateable character, someone with just steel nerve to get the job done but enough vulnerability to still fill the “damsel in distress” quotient required of film’s from this era. Goldblum and Cartwright are great as the bo-ho best friends, with Cartwright bringing a particularly strong performance: she’s a vastly underrated actor who will probably always be best know for her performance in Alien (1979) but deserves recognition for so much more. And, of course, there’s the colossally fun performance by Leonard Nimoy as the platitude-spouting shrink with an agenda: his character is a great riff on the emotionless performance he perfected as Spock on Star Trek, featuring a truly wonderful bit where he appears to stuff all of the over-the-top emoting normally associated with former cast-mate William Shatner into one little diatribe. It’s a truly great performance, especially since it so ably plays against expectations.

The film looks fantastic, filled with the warm tones and vibrant colors (particularly greens) which always characterized the best of ’70s cinema. The man behind the camera for this one is none other than Michael Chapman, the savant who also shot Taxi Driver (1976), Raging Bull (1980), The Fugitive (1993) and Space Jam (1996): without a doubt, the remake of the film is a much better-looking film than the original and this comes from someone who really digs on the look of ’50s-era sci-fi films. Kaufman’s Invasion of the Body Snatchers is in a whole other category, however.

As a remake, Kaufman’s film sticks fairly closely to the original and its source material, Jack Finney’s novel, “The Body Snatchers.” Many times, scenes will parallel similar scenes in the first film, although writer W.D. Richter makes a few, significant changes from Siegel’s version. One of the niftiest bits of fan service in the remake is the scene where Kevin McCarthy reprises his role from the original: he jumps in front of Matt and Elizabeth’s car, pounding on the hood and screaming that “They’re coming! They’re already here!” just like he did at the conclusion of the original. A new addition that works spectacularly is the ultra-creepy “howl” that the pod people use whenever they discover a human: it’s a great, skin-crawling bit and Kaufman uses it to perfection in several key moments.

Truth be told, there’s really only one complaint that I have about the 1978 version of Invasion of the Body Snatchers and it’s a pretty specific one: the dog-hobo hybrid that makes an appearance during the pivotal “sneaking through the clones” scene is a real howler, so thoroughly goofy as to completely kill the mood of the film. I’m hard-pressed to think of any other cinematic moment that matches this bit of inanity but the stupid “Chaos reigns fox” from Von Trier’s Antichrist (2009) certainly comes to mind. In an interesting bit of coincidence: co-star Goldblum would go on to appear in another remake that featured a human-animal hybrid when he starred in Cronenberg’s remake of The Fly (1986): what the hell are the chances of that?

As I stated earlier, there’s very little wrong with the original film and modern audiences would be well-served by checking it out, if they haven’t already. That being said, Kaufman’s 1978 remake is a much better film on nearly every level, not least of which is an ending that manages to not only beat the original by a country mile but to be one of the single best cinematic endings of all time. In a time and age when we find ourselves increasingly connected to the rest of the world and the notion of “group-think” is becoming more prevalent than ever, much of Invasion of the Body Snatchers has begun to seem rather prophetic. Perhaps the invaders were already here…how would we really know?