The Year in Review: The Top 20 Films of 2015 (Part Two)

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2015, A Girl Walks Home Alone At Night, Best of 2015, Bone Tomahawk, cinema, Entertainment, Faults, favorite films, film reviews, films, Mad Max: Fury Road, Movies, personal opinions, Slow West, The Boy, The Hateful Eight, The Voices, Welcome to Me, What We Do in the Shadows

At long last, the creme de la creme of calendar year 2015: my picks for the ten best films of the year. Stay tuned for a final wrap-up on the year before we get back to our regularly scheduled reviews.

– – –

10.

The Boy

There’s a quiet, mournful, almost hushed atmosphere to Craig William Macneill’s The Boy that’s like being smothered to death in a warm, comfortable blanket. This low-key, massively powerful examination of a young sociopath taking the first tentative steps towards full-blown mass murder is full of strong, honest performances (David Morse and Rainn Wilson, in particular, are extraordinary) but none impress, stun or disarm quite as effectively as that of young Jared Breeze, the titular boy. As we follow Breeze’s Ted through his sad, fractured world, it becomes distressingly easy to see the individual “bricks” that will eventually lead to one huge, impenetrable “wall” in his undeveloped psyche. Sad, thought-provoking and absolutely essential, The Boy may just prove itself as one of the most important films of an age that has become inextricably linked with mass killings and spree violence.

9.

A Girl Walks Home Alone At Night

I absolutely adored this “John Hughes by way of Jim Jarmusch by way of Val Lewton” vampire flick, the debut full-length from astounding new Iranian-American filmmaker Ana Lily Amirpour. Endlessly cool, evocative, sensual and mysterious, with truly gorgeous black and white cinematography and a pretty kickass score, A Girl… might have become an exercise in style over substance for any other filmmaker. Instead, Amirpour imbues the various characters and their interactions with each other with a genuine sense of emotional heft: this may be an “art film” but it’s one with a big, bloody, beating heart in its chest. With a double-fistful of audacious imagery (the beautiful mirror-ball scene is primo Hughes, while the truly strange, totally cool skateboarding bits are all Amirpour). A Girl Walks Home Alone at Night is the kind of debut that fearlessly kicks the door in, waltzes right up to the table and sets a place for itself at the very head: Ana Lily Amirpour is here and I don’t think the world of cinematic horror will ever be the same.

8.

Welcome to Me

Kristin Wiig is one of those performers (like Bruce Campbell, Ron Perlman or Kate McKinnon) that I will, literally, watch in whatever she chooses to do. TV ad? I’ll tape it. Hosting a seminar on watching paint dry? I’ll be first row. There’s just something about Wiig that I find endlessly fascinating, her razor-sharp, cutting wit always slightly diffused by something both infinitely sad and impossibly playful. Able to bounce effortlessly between silly comedies and more serious indie dramas, I’m pretty sure there’s nothing she can’t do. Scratch that: I’m positive of that fact.

This is all by way of saying that I was probably more predisposed to love Shira Piven’s Welcome to Me than most potential audience members. Despite my high expectations, however, I still got completely blown out of the water. To not put too fine a point on it, Wiig’s performance as sad-sack Alice Klieg stands as the high-water mark of a pretty extraordinary career: this is a performance that not only deserves but demands award consideration, a raw, painful, frequently hilarious (but just as often gut-wrenching) look at a woman struggling with mental health issues, all while trying to make the most out of a life that frequently baffles and terrifies her. There are scenes and moments here (Alice’s walk through the casino, for example) that were, easily, the best in the year. To be honest, the very fact that Welcome to Me, one of my very favorite films of the whole year, ended up at #7 on this list has much more to do with the competition than the quality of the film. In any other year, this would have probably been closer to #1.

7.

Bone Tomahawk

Writer-director S. Craig Zahler’s stunning debut, the Western-horror hybrid Bone Tomahawk, pulls off a pretty great hat trick. For the first two-thirds of the film, it’s a pitch perfect Western, the kind that seemed to have fallen out of behavior until a raft of quality 2015 flicks brought the genre roaring back to life. Anchored by phenomenal performances from Kurt Russell (growing the mustache that would consume him in The Hateful Eight), Patrick Wilson, Matthew Fox (slimy and endearing, in equal measures) and Richard Jenkins (echoing every kickass, old sidekick that the Duke ever rode with), a truly engrossing mise en scene and some stark imagery, it’s a film out of time that truly works.

And then the film suddenly veers off-road and becomes, without a doubt, one of the single most horrifying, frightening and nightmare-inducing films of the past several years. With each portion (the Western and the cannibals) given equal respect and consideration, this is no stitched-together Frankenstein’s monster: rather, Zahler allows the film to mutate and morph organically, with the horror elements gradually bubbling to the surface until we’re completely trapped by the paranoid horror of it all. This is uncompromising, amazing filmmaking: for a debut, it becomes that much more extraordinary.

6.

The Voices

In a year filled with films about mental illness and depression (Welcome to Me, The Boy, Motivational Growth, Pod, Creep, Kumiko the Treasure Hunter, Xenia, Queen of Earth and The End of the Tour, to name a small handful), few hit quite as hard as Marjane Satrapi’s thoroughly wonderful The Voices. With a simple concept (happy-go-lucky office guy Ryan Reynolds “talks” to his dog and cat, who dispense advice that ranges from “pretty reasonable” to “holy shit, what are you doing?!”), an eye-popping, vibrant color scheme and plenty of funny snark, it would be easy to mistake The Voices as a goofy, stylish romp.

That would be a huge mistake, however. You see, The Voices is actually a thoroughly poisonous, hideous and mind-blowing cupcake, topped with so much bright pink frosting that you won’t realize you’re choking until you’re already dead. This is Marjane Satrapi, after all, the Iranian auteur who introduced the world to Persepolis: she doesn’t do “disposable.” In early interviews for The Voices, Satrapi expressed a desire to try a horror film “just for the hell of it,” adding her own unique voice to the proceedings. The end result speaks for itself: The Voices is immaculately made, gorgeously filmed, brilliantly acted (Reynolds might be perfect, in this, but so are Arterton, Kendrick and the rest of the exceptional cast) and features a payoff that’s as smart as it is soul-shattering. The complete lack of love for The Voices speaks to only one thing: Satrapi did too good a job.

5.

Entertainment

One of the single biggest surprises of the year, Rick Alverson’s Entertainment should never have ended up on my Best of list…never in a million years. You see, I absolutely hated Alverson’s previous film, the loathsome, wretched ode to hipster ennui, The Comedy. I hated everything about it, from the hateful characters to the awful dialogue to the patently stupid setpieces (although the one where they scoot on church pews did make me smile, briefly): it was easily one of the worst films I saw that year, hands-down. Add to this my general disinterest in outre stand-up comedian Neil Hamburger (nee Gregg Turkington), who toplines Entertainment, and this definitely seemed like a film I would not appreciate.

But then I watched it and, lo and behold: Entertainment is not only light-years better than The Comedy (there is, literally, no comparison beyond a few returning actors), it’s light-years better than about 90% of the films I watched in 2015. Essentially the ultimate portrait of life on the road for a touring comic, Entertainment is a complete revelation: Turkington is so goddamn good that I actually found an appreciation for his Hamburger persona that was never there in the past.

Everything about this almost overpoweringly sad film works (and then some): the sense of character building…the competition between more “alternative” comics and more “traditional” ones (Tye Sheridan’s “mime-clown” is a truly inspired creation)…the lonely life that outsiders live, even when surrounded by “friends” and well-wishers…the notion of a personal life lost to endless, torturous days on the road, playing to increasingly small audiences that couldn’t give a shit whether you live or died…unlike The Comedy, which seemed to exist as a misanthropic middle-finger to “polite”society, Entertainment is an endlessly humanist film, much less interested in ridiculing others than sticking up for the quiet dignity of its protagonist.

I can’t stress it enough: Entertainment was the biggest surprise of the whole year, for me, and one of the most powerful gut-punches I’ve had in years. Guess I owe you an apology, Mr. Alverson: you do know what you’re doing, after all.

4.

Faults

I saw this early in the year and, like a couple other entries on this list, it never left my mind once during the ensuing months. Faults is a tricky, prickly little film, a quiet mind-blower that lulls you in with something old (the general story about a cult deprogrammer and his newest charge is straight out of Jane Campion’s Holy Smoke, for one) before beating you senseless with something new (pretty much everything else). Faults is the kind of film that exists best when you know as little about it as possible: I’m willing to wager that most folks would never guess the “twist,” regardless of how intently they pay attention.

While I’ve written extensively about Faults in the past, it still behooves me to reiterate a point: Mary Elizabeth Winstead and Leland Orser are so good in this, so completely invested in both their characters and the film’s strange world, that it’s not like watching performances: it’s like being given a front-row seat to a real-life psychodrama, unfolding before our disbelieving eyes. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: in any other year, this would probably have been #1 instead of #4.

3.

What We Do in the Shadows

This was the year of the quality horror-comedy (Cooties, Deathgasm, Zombeavers, Suburban Gothic, The Final Girls and Love in the Time of Monsters all come to mind) but none of them were as consistently hilarious, well-made and thought-provoking as Kiwi-export What We Do in the Shadows.

Helmed by Flight of the Conchords’ Jemaine Clement (who also did extraordinary work in People, Places, Things) and comedian Taika Waititi, What We Do in the Shadows is the last word on vampire mockumentaries (the Belgian film Vampires was probably the first word and not a bad one, at that). Detailing the various travails of a group of vampires who all happen to be roommates, despite their disparate personalities, ages and levels of “savagery,” WWDITS is laugh-out-loud funny from start to finish, filled with so many unique, outrageous and ingenious setpieces that they could probably have filled two films. The cherry on top of this marvelous sundae, however, are the surprisingly deep, sincere emotional moments. When the film wants you to laugh, you’ll be powerless to resist. When it wants you to tear up, however, you’ll find yourself in the same boat.

As one of the most talked-about, ballyhooed films of the year, there was a tremendous set of expectations hanging around the film’s neck, possibly like an albatross. Turns out all of the hype was not only duly founded but may have actually undersold the film, a bit: this is peerless filmmaking, genre or otherwise, and discerning fans should treasure this for some time to come.

2.

Slow West

Slow West was another film that I saw early in the year, yet could never completely shake from my mind. This slow, almost elegiac Western seems to be plowing a pretty standard trail, albeit one full of beautiful cinematography, wide-open vistas and exacting, underplayed performances. When the magical realism and dark humor elements kick in, however, Slow West climbs a ladder to the stars and never once looks back.

Fassbender plays Eastwood, Smit-McPhee brings a little gravitas to his wet-behind-the-ears Scotsman and Ben Mendelsohn (resplendent in one of the biggest fur coats I’ve ever seen) is so perfectly evil that he’s like a template for any who might come after (or before, for that matter). If you love and grew up on Westerns, Slow West will be nothing short of a modern-day revelation. Even if you have no particular love for horse operas, however, Slow West will still be a captivating, quirky and grim journey.

In a year where the Western really made a comeback (Bone Tomahawk, The Hateful Eight and The Revenant all took the cinematic world by storm), first-time director John Maclean’s modest, immaculate little film might have been an underdog but that didn’t stop it from shouting its intentions to the sky. If Maclean doesn’t become one of our best, most celebrated filmmakers in the next decade, I’ll eat a ten-gallon hat.

And now, with no further ado…the number one film of the year is…

1.

Mad Max: Fury Road

Here’s the thing: if you would have told me that outre Australian auteur George Miller would pick up his iconic Mad Max franchise thirty years after its previous entry, I’d believe it. If you would have added that the film would become one of the biggest, pop culture phenomenons of the past several years and a huge box office superstar, I would have laughed right in your face.

But the proof, as they say, is in the pudding. What the 70-year-old auteur has done is something that seems almost impossible, on the outside: Fury Road is a virtually non-stop, two-hour chase film that features some of the most astounding practical effects and vehicular crashes ever set to film. Period. There’s no fat on this film whatsoever: ever shot, every line of dialogue, every edit is there for the express purpose of propelling the film forward, of putting us (and keeping us) right in the driver’s seat the whole time.

Much has been made of Fury Road’s distinct feminist leanings and, like everything else regarding the film, that’s right on the nose, too. While Tom Hardy’s take on the titular antihero is the perfect next step from Mel Gibson’s original, he’s not the hero of the film. Instead, that honor goes to Charlize Theron’s Furiosa, the tough-as-nails uber-warrior/driver who must safely chaperon a group of female slaves from subjugation and forced breeding to freedom. To not put too fine a point on it, Furiosa is an instantly classic creation (think Aliens-era Lt. Ripley) and Theron’s performance instantly vaults her to the top of the sci-fi/genre royalty.

Mad Max: Fury Road is a film best experienced, not discussed: hell, watch it five times and I’m willing to wager you’ve still missed half of the simply astounding visuals and white-knuckle setpieces. This is a film that practically throws away sequences that other, lessor movies would make centerpieces. It’s a film that satisfies longtime followers but is the exact opposite of fan service. It’s a film that is almost ridiculously fist-pumping and action-packed but so far from brain-dead that calling it a mere “action film” is so reductive as to be insulting. It’s a film written and directed by a 70-year-old Hollywood outsider, yet manages to instantly nuke any and everything else out there.

Is George Miller’s Mad Max: Fury Road the best film of 2015? Absolutely, without a doubt, yes. However…

1.

The Hateful Eight

You see, Quentin Tarantino’s The Hateful Eight is also the very best film of the year. How, exactly, is that possible? As it turns out: pretty darn easy. Not only is The Hateful Eight an unapologetic return to the classic Westerns of yore (think Ford or Peckinpah, not Leone), it also features a perfect ensemble cast, stunning 65mm cinematography (the film was even screened in 65mm for select theaters) and legendary composer Ennio Morricone’s first Western score in some thirty years (supplemented with unused pieces from his score for John Carpenter’s The Thing, no less).

But all of that, of course, would be only so much pretty wrapping paper if the actual film weren’t so damn good. At almost three-and-a-half hours, there’s a lot to digest here and a lot of time to spend with characters who range from “awful human beings” to “worse human beings.” Thanks to the eclectic, all-in performances, however, we come to really like these deviants and dastardly folks: it’s the same trick that Tarantino pulled off in Pulp Fiction when he made us fall in love with Vincent, Jules and the rest of their miscreant acquaintances.

Like Fury Road, there’s way more to The Hateful Eight than could ever be caught in one viewing: questions of racial inequality, justice and the terrible, constant shadow of the Civil War hang over every frame of the film, like smoke caught in the cold air. While the mystery aspect of the film likely won’t reward repeat viewings (this is as much an outrageous take on Agatha Christie as anything else, after all), everything else will.

Is The Hateful Eight a problematic film? Like all of Tarantino’s films, absolutely: controversy is as much one of Tarantino’s stock-in-trades as his mountains of dialogue, over-the-top violence and focus on antiheroes. This is a film that somehow manages to include more racially-charged dialogue than even Django Unchained (no mean feat), while also featuring Mexico City-born Demian Bichir as the most stereotypical onscreen Hispanic character since Speedy Gonzalez. It’s a film where the sole female lead is viciously beaten for much of the run-time, yet manages to accrue not one whit of sympathy from the audience (quite the opposite, in fact, at the screening I went to).

Like the best of Tarantino’s films, however, The Hateful Eight manages to take everything and whip it into a fascinating, pulse-pounding and riotous ride through the dregs of society, trawling the gutter for some of his most indelible characters yet. The film is surprisingly funny and, at times, almost a horror film (dig that insane denouement, Jack!). The one thing it’s not? A chore to sit through, in any way, even at almost 3.5 hours in length.

Is The Hateful Eight my favorite Tarantino film since Pulp Fiction? Absolutely. Is it a perfect film? Nope. Was it the very best film that I managed to see in 2015? It was…along with Fury Road. Will I ever be able to choose between the two?  Now, why in the world would I ever want to do that?

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The Year in Review: The Best Horror Films of 2015

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2015, A Christmas Horror Story, A Girl Walks Home Alone At Night, Best of 2015, Bone Tomahawk, cinema, Cooties, Creep, Deathgasm, film reviews, films, Gravy, horror, horror films, Motivational Growth, Movies, personal opinions, Tales of Halloween, The Boy, The Final Girls, The Nightmare, The Voices, We Are Still Here, What We Do in the Shadows

At long last, we come to one of the year’s big lists: the 15 Best Horror Films of 2015. I screened 73 new horror films in 2015 and managed to whittle the group down to the following creme de la creme.

There was nothing easy about the rankings, below, but I’m pretty confident that I’ve made the right decisions. Many of these have made there way on to plenty of year-end lists, while I’m wagering that others will be a little bit more unsung. Regardless, they all deserve the maximum love possible. As far as I’m concerned, any horror fan will find something to love in these fifteen films: it might require a slight leap of faith but these are all more than worthy. Some, of course, are more worthy than others. In that spirit, I present to you the 15 Best Horror Films of 2015.

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15.

The Nightmare

Few films stuck with me quite as much as Rodney Ascher’s documentary about sleep paralysis. The film is far from perfect and can often tip from self-serious into slightly corny but it was just impossible for me to shake some of the stories. The bit involving the shared experience with the demonic cat is, no pun intended, literally the stuff of nightmares.

14.

A Christmas Horror Story

Despite the fact that one of the segments in this seasonal-minded horror film is a real snoozer (the one about the kids investigating their haunted school), this is actually one of the better anthologies to come out amidst the recent glut of same. Shatner is a heap of fun as the progressively more inebriated radio DJ and many of the segments, particularly the gonzo one involving Santa fighting off zombie elves at the North Pole, pack a legitimate punch. Well-made, well-acted and lots of fun.

13.

We Are Still Here

This slow-burn nod to Italian gore maestro Lucio Fulci would have scored higher but there were a few stumbles on the way to the truly unforgettable Grand Guignol conclusion. If the build-up can sometimes come off a little too over-the-top, the payoff does a pretty damn good job of replicating Hell on earth. Suffice to say that I’m deathly curious to see where director Ted Geoghegan goes from here.

12.

Creep

At first, I had absolutely no idea what to expect from this found-footage film featuring funnyman Mark Duplass as an extremely sad, extremely lonely and dying oddball who takes a cue from the Michael Keaton weeper My Life and has a filmmaker document his life for his young child. Turns out I should have expected one of the most genuinely creepy, weird, unsettling and flat-out horrifying films of the whole year. The finale is a real masterstroke but Peachfuzz and “tubby time” will probably haunt my dreams until the day I die.

11.

Tales of Halloween

Tales of Halloween might not be the best Halloween-themed horror anthology out there (I still think that Michael Dougherty’s Trick ‘r Treat handily holds that title) but there’s nothing wrong with being the second best, at least in this case. While not all of the segments stick their landings and there’s a lamentable lack of cohesion between the various stories, this was still a tremendous amount of fun, full of outrageous scenarios, great effects and a genuine love for the season. When fan service is this smart and well-done, who can complain?

10.

Deathgasm

If you’re a metal-head, I’m willing to wager that you’re gonna love Kiwi-export Deathgasm: I am and I did. Fast, funny, inappropriate (beating a demon to death with dildos), explosively violent and always smarter than it seems, Deathgasm is a real labor of love and it shows. One of my favorite things here is the thoroughly organic way in which sweet, innocent and decidedly non-metal Kimberley Crossman evolves into a tough-as-nails, demon slaughtering ass-kicker. This fusion of horror, metal and laughs is a winner from start to finish.

9.

The Final Girls

This heartfelt horror-comedy, essentially a nostalgic, slasher flick variation on Woody Allen’s Purple Rose of Cairo, was easily one of the sweetest films I saw all year, horror or otherwise. With a focus that prizes the mother-daughter relationship between Malin Ackerman and Taissa Farmiga as much as it does the snide critiques of ’80s horror film cliches and the rapid-fire, witty dialogue, this is the one film on this list that I would expect to easily appeal to mainstream audiences. Just the scene scored by “Bette Davis Eyes,” alone, would place this in the top ten of the year.

8.

Motivational Growth

Few films are genuinely weird but Motivational Growth is genuinely, undeniably weird…and I absolutely love it. Disturbing, grimy, hallucinatory, dryly funny and incredibly smart, writer-director Don Thacker’s odd little puzzler about a loner who receives life advice from talking bathroom mold (voiced with absolute gusto by genre legend Jeffrey Combs) lulls you into a sense of numb complacency before hitting you so hard that it, literally, takes the wind out of you. This was fearless, fascinating and nearly peerless filmmaking: I think Thacker might be the new Henenlotter, which makes Motivational Growth the new Basket Case. If you can stomach it, this is unforgettable.

7.

The Boy

This measured, subtle and thoroughly frightening look at a disturbed young boy taking the first tentative steps towards misanthropy and serial killing features powerhouse performances from David Morse and Rainn Wilson (playing completely against type and succeeding fabulously at it) but its young Jared Breeze who steals the entire film. As the titular character, Breeze displays a world-weary sensibility far beyond his years, turning in a performance that’s complex, quietly devastating and undeniably impressive. The Boy is not only a truly great, gripping horror film: it’s a truly great, gripping character study that deserves serious critical consideration.

6.

A Girl Walks Home Alone At Night

Drawing from Spaghetti Westerns, Hammer horror, black and white indie art films and the oeuvre of John Hughes, Iranian-American filmmaker Ana Lily Amirpour’s A Girl Walks Home Alone at Night is the kind of “everything and the kitchen sink” affair that shouldn’t work but does…and fantastically so. Endlessly moody, beautifully shot and possessed of an atmosphere that’s equal parts sad nostalgia, old-fashioned romanticism and smoldering sexuality, this was thought-provoking eye candy that signals Amirpour has a filmmaker to keep an eye on in the future.

5.

Cooties

With pre-release buzz that had me anticipating this little gem for almost a year, the chance for disappointment was high. My faith was strong, however, and the reward was one of the best, funniest and most outrageous horror-comedies I’ve seen in years. The ensemble cast is pitch-perfect (Elijah Wood, Rainn Wilson, Alison Pill, Nasim Pedrad, Leigh Whannell and Jack McBrayer turn in some of their best work), the concept is utterly choice (grade-school kids get infected by bad chicken nuggets and turn into ferocious, blood-thirsty zombies, leading to a standoff with the teachers at a beleaguered school), the effects are good and gory and the humor is smart, constant and in suitably bad taste. This might have been the party movie of the year if not for others on this list.

4.

Gravy

Of all the films I screened in 2015, few surprised me as much as Gravy. Everything about this screamed low-rent (that cover art is so bad, it actually works against the film) but the actual movie was just about as good as it gets. This story about a trio of cannibals who take the employees of a Mexican restaurant hostage, at closing time, on All Hallows’ Eve, is one delightful surprise after another: the cast is amazing, the gore effects are mind-blowing (literally!), the humor setpieces are hilarious and the film is consistently smart and ruthlessly dedicated to shattering expectations. If this hadn’t been such a great year for genre films, this would have topped my list, hands down: the fact that a movie this good ended up at number four speaks volumes.

3.

What We Do In the Shadows

I laughed, I cried, I loved: What We Do in the Shadows was, hands-down, the most crowd pleasing, purely fun horror film of the entire year. This New Zealand export slams the humor elements into the scoreboard so hard that the genuinely emotional dramatic elements almost seem like an unfair victory lap. Go ahead and close the book on any future mockumentaries about the drudgeries of modern life for age-old vampires: What We Do in the Shadows is the only one you’re ever gonna need.

2.

Bone Tomahawk

I love horror movies, I love Westerns and I love Kurt Russell: first-time director S. Craig Zahler would have really had to work overtime to screw up Bone Tomahawk, as far as I’m concerned. As it so happens, the film is an instant classic, the kind of long-abandoned filmmaking that prides atmosphere, mood and character development over instant gratification or dumbed down thrills. The first two thirds are primo, dusty oater, with one of the most effortlessly badass performances by Russell that the veteran badass has ever committed to celluloid. When the horror elements kick in, however, Zahler not only doesn’t lose his footing but promptly plants his boot through the audience’s skull. Uncompromising, beautiful, elegant and full of genuine “holy shit” moments, they really don’t get much better than Bone Tomahawk, horror or otherwise.

1.

The Voices

I saw this little jewel way back at the beginning of the year and it’s stuck with me ever since: I had a feeling it might end up at the top of my list back then and, as it turns out, my instincts were correct. Everything about auteur Marjane Satrapi’s beautifully skewed examination of mental illness is sheer perfection, from the candy-colored visuals to the magical realism elements to the astounding, scraped-raw performance by Ryan Reynolds.

This is a film that lulls you in with its gorgeous cinematography and slightly silly concept (Reynolds receives life advice from his talking dog and cat) before thrusting you headfirst into a screaming maelstrom of murder, insanity and pure emotional pain. The Voices is playful, quirky and utterly devastating, the kind of perfect cinematic experience that comes along all too rarely and functions as a breath of fresh air in an increasingly septic atmosphere: it’s horror as art, the purest form of validation that the much maligned genre could ever receive.

With no hyperbole whatsoever, The Voices should receive award season love: Satrapi should be nominated for Best Director, Reynolds should receive a Best Actor nomination and the film, itself, should be on the shortlist for best film of the year (with so much stiff competition, it would never win but certainly deserves the acknowledgment). The world doesn’t work that way, of course, so Satrapi’s perfect examination of mental illness will probably end up a footnote in the year that was 2015.

I’m here to say, however, that it was more than that: much more than that. As far as I’m concerned, The Voices was not only the best horror film of 2015 but one of the very best films I’ve seen in quite some time. I have a feeling that time will be kind to the film and future audiences will see it for the absolute gem it is. In a rich, full year of horror, Satrapi’s The Voices still managed to stand head and shoulders above the competition: as far as I’m concerned, that’s an achievement of the highest possible order.

The Best of the 31 Days of Halloween (2015 Edition)

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31 Days of Halloween, A Christmas Horror Story, All Hallows' Eve 2, Asylum Blackout, Best of 2015, Bone Tomahawk, cinema, Circle, Cooties, Curse of Chucky, Deathgasm, favorite films, film reviews, films, Gravy, Halloween, Halloween traditions, horror, horror films, Lost After Dark, Love in the Time of Monsters, Movies, October, personal opinions, Tales of Halloween, The American Scream, The Boy, The Final Girls, The Houses October Built, The Midnight Swim, The Nightmare, We Are Still Here, What We Do in the Shadows

In the spirit of completion, I now offer my list of the very best films that I screened during this year’s 31 Days of Halloween. For purposes of this list, I’ve excluded any films that were screened in previous years (otherwise, American Mary and Trick ‘r Treat would become the equivalent of political incumbents). Since some of these were slightly older films that I was seeing for the first time, I’ve lumped them in with the 2015 films: I’ll separate everything out once I put together my Best of 2015 write-up, however.

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The Best of the 31 Days of Halloween (2015 Edition)

(in no particular order)

There’s one very good reason why this list is in no particular order: in most cases, it would be like trying to choose your favorite child at gunpoint. Whether it was a fistful of some of the best horror-comedies I’d ever seen, two of the most kickass anthology films ever created , the best horror Western in ages (forever?) or one of the most gripping, disturbing examinations of young evil that I’ll never be able to scrub from my brain, the best films of October really took things to another level. It’s pretty much a given that at least some of these will end up on my years’ end Best of lists.

Cooties (2015) — I try to keep my enthusiasm for new films tempered somewhat but I was anxiously anticipating this little treasure for too long to play it safe. Good thing, then, that Cooties not only met but massacred every one of my expectations. No two ways about this, this is a modern classic and one of the funniest, most outrageous and radical horror-comedies that I’ve ever seen.

The Boy (2015) — There’s an awful lot to recommend here: the frequently lovely cinematography…the intense, immersive performances from David Morse and Rainn Wilson…the unflinching violence…the measured pace that allows for maximum character development and audience identification. Perhaps the number one reason to see writer/director Craig William Macneill’s exceptional sophomore film, however, is the unforgettable performance by young Jared Breeze (also in Cooties) as the titular character. In an era where disturbed individuals commit violence on an increasingly wider scale, The Boy takes us right to the genesis of this internal evil: for this fact, alone, it may very well be the scariest (and most essential) film of 2015.

What We Do in the Shadows (2014) — Essentially a re-do of the almost as worthy Danish film Vampires (2010), this brainchild of Jemaine Clement (half of New Zealand’s Flight of the Conchords) and Taika Waititi is one of the smartest, funniest, most incisive and well-made films of the year, hands down. While the main emphasis is on laughs (the vast majority of which hit with laser-guided precision), What We Do in the Shadows isn’t afraid to hit the big, emotional beats, either, resulting in a film that’s equal parts hilarious satire and genuine character study. Needless to say, I don’t think we ever need another mockumentary about modern-day vampires dealing with the toils and humiliations of daily life: Clement and Waititi slammed that door and welded it shut.

Tales of Halloween (2015) — Until I screened Tales of Halloween this October, I was 100% sure that Michael Dougherty’s Trick ‘r Treat would always be the undisputed king of the Halloween anthology film. Now, however, I’ve been forced to admit the obvious: there are no absolutes in life. While not all of the segments manage to stick their landings, the ones that do emerge fully-formed and perfect, lovely little blood-flecked pearls that represent some of the very best horror shorts around. Looks like the Pumpkin King’s gonna have to share his throne, in the future!

Gravy (2015) — Outrageous, unrelentingly gory and violent and almost impossibly offensive, Gravy is one of those films that should split audiences right down the middle. If you prefer your horror-comedies tame, polite and conventional, please keep moving to the end of the line, nothing to see here, thanks very much. If, however, you’re the kind of viewer who prizes genuinely quirky characters, mature, thought-provoking humor, needle-in-the-red bloodshed and actual heart/emotion over shallow “attitude,” I suggest you grab a beer and come pull up a chair next to me: we’ve got ourselves a movie to watch.

Bone Tomahawk (2015) — I love horror movies, Westerns, and Kurt Russell pretty much unconditionally: ergo, any film that manages the hat-trick of tossing these divine elements into the same movie is going to have an automatic reservation in my heart. Good thing, then, that S. Craig Zahler’s debut manages to not only throw these ingredients together but manages to craft one of the tastiest cinematic dishes I’ve ever had the pleasure of devouring. Hell, just the supporting cast, alone, would vault this head and shoulders over most “prestige” films, let alone horror flicks. Another strong contender for my “Best Films of 2015” list.

Deathgasm (2015) — The second Kiwi export to make my “Best of…” list, writer/director Jason Lee Howden’s Deathgasm may just be the most perfect intersection of form and function that I’ve ever seen. Tackling the inherent connection between horror and heavy metal, the film’s biggest coup is its utter, unabashed love for its head-banging heroes. While most other genre efforts would relegate Deathgasm’s protagonists to the stereotype-plagued background, Howden moves them up front and treats them with the respect they deserve (us metalheads have to stick up for our own kind, after all). Hilarious, heartfelt and ridiculously fist-pumping (just like a good metal song!), Deathgasm is a jean-jacket-bedecked hessian’s dream come true. Lots of extra points for allowing Kimberley Crossman’s sweet-as-pie, goody-two-shoes to organically become one of the most kickass “final girls” out there.

A Christmas Horror Story (2015) — While this is nowhere near as consistently awesome as either Trick ‘r Treat or Tales of Halloween, the high points here are more than capable of heavy-lifting this onto my “Best of…” list. Truth be told, the only story that’s a complete letdown is the most conventional one (the one about the teens exploring their haunted school, natch): the rest of the material, including the wraparound starring the inimitable William Shatner, finds interesting and unique ways to twist and screw around with traditional horror tropes and storylines. If nothing else, the “Santa Claus vs. zombie elves” segment is worth the price of admission alone, finishing up with a deliciously demented twist that ends the film on the strongest note possible. Lots and lots of fun, with the added bonus of being a perfectly suitable December viewing. Huzzah!

Curse of Chucky (2013) — One of the biggest surprises of the entire month of October, franchise creator Don Mancini’s return to the shortest serial killer in history was never supposed to be more than a time killer in my schedule, something disposable to cleanse the palate between the “real” films. Imagine my surprise, then, when Curse of Chucky revealed itself to be an absolute masterpiece of sustained suspense, intelligent, Hitchcockian set-pieces and pure, unadulterated, snarky attitude. The film is fast-paced, ruthlessly smart, gorgeously shot and possesses the coolest Chucky visualization of the entire series, thus far. It’s a glorious return to form for Mancini and, more importantly, singlehandedly jump-started my lapsed interest in the Child’s Play franchise. Suffice to say, I can’t wait for the follow-up.

The Final Girls (2015) — Despite having an utterly gonzo premise (a group of modern teens step through a theater screen, ala The Purple Rose of Cairo, and end up in the ’80s slasher flick that stars one teen’s now-deceased mother), The Final Girls has more genuine heart than just about any film on this list. The interaction between Taissa Farmiga (as the daughter) and Malin Ackerman (as the mom) are spot-on and lead to some actual heartrending moments in the latter half of the film, while the entire ensemble cast plays off each other beautifully. Laugh-out-loud funny, never skimpy with the horror elements (certain moments actually reminded me of Adam Green’s grue-fest, Hatchet), possessed of a unique and clever premise and never condescending, The Final Girls is the perfect film for horror fans who aren’t afraid to let emotions besides “revulsion,” “fear” and “blood-thirsty glee” into their dark little hearts.

Love in the Time of Monsters (2014) — Yet another horror-comedy, Matt Jackson’s Love in the Time of Monsters throws a kitchenful of ingredients at the screen and, surprisingly enough, most of it sticks like glue. We get another great concept (toxic waste turns the Bigfoot-suit-bedecked employees of a Bigfoot-themed tourist trap into bloodthirsty “zombie-Squatches”), a fantastic ensemble cast (including great performances from genre vets Kane Hodder, Doug Jones and Michael McShane), a smart, funny script (courtesy of Michael Skvarla), great, gory action set-pieces and an outrageous final battle royale that features more genuine surprises than a bakers’ dozen of M. Knight movies. If the dance-off featuring the Big Kahuna and Brandi doesn’t turn you into a quivering mass of uncontrolled giggles, your heart may be smaller than the Grinch.

– – –

The Best of the Rest

(in no particular order)

I ended up seeing so many quality films in October that determining the minuscule separation between “Holy shit…that was amazing!” and “Wow…that was really good!” became quite the Herculean effort. In that spirit, here are the films that “coulda woulda shoulda” been contenders in pretty much any other year. In the interest of space/time, I’ll just go ahead and list these here. Hopefully, in the future, we’ll all get a chance to explore these in a little more detail.

The Nightmare (2015)

The Houses October Built (2014)

We Are Still Here (2015)

All Hallows’ Eve 2 (2015)

The Midnight Swim (2015)

The American Scream (2012)

Circle (2015)

Lost After Dark (2015)

Asylum Blackout (2012)

– – –

And there we have it: my favorite eleven films of October, along with nine runner-ups. Coming soon, I’ll take a look at the other side of the coin: the worst films and biggest disappointments of the 31 Days of Halloween. Stay tuned, gentle readers…stay tuned!

The 31 Days of Halloween: Week 4 Mini-Reviews (Part Two)

Tags

31 Days of Halloween, A Nightmare on Elm Street, A Nightmare on Elm Street 2: Freddy's Revenge, A Nightmare on Elm Street 3: The Dream Warriors, A Nightmare on Elm Street 4: The Dream Child, Bone Tomahawk, cinema, Dead of Night, film reviews, films, Freddy Krueger, Freddy vs Jason, Freddy's Dead: The Final Nightmare, horror, horror anthologies, horror films, horror franchises, horror westerns, Lost River, mini-reviews, Movies, October, Pay the Ghost, remakes, Saw franchise, Saw: The Final Chapter, Wes Craven, Wes Craven's New Nightmare

Slowly by slowly, little by little, we continue to try to catch up with the avalanche of films from our October horror spectacular. Here are the mini-reviews from the second half of the fourth week of October, 10/22 to 10/25. Coming up, we finally approach the end of the 31 Days of Halloween with the fifth (and final) week of October. We’ll be discussing new films like Spike Lee’s Da Sweet Blood of Jesus, Contracted: Phase 2 and The Gift, as well as old favorites like Jaws, Trick ‘r Treat and Swamp Thing. Stay tuned, gentle readers: that light at the end of the tunnel might be daylight or it might be some sort of creepy ghost train…only one way to find out!

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Thursday, 10/22

A Nightmare on Elm Street — It all started here. There’s a reason why Wes Craven’s seminal creation would go on to spawn not only a blockbuster franchise but a genuine pop culture phenomenon: it is, quite simply, one of the best, most original films to come out of the entire history of the horror genre, from the silent days to modern times. By welding the burgeoning slasher genre to something explicitly supernatural and dream-like, Craven made a cinematic Frankenstein that would change the game for decades to come and introduce the world to one of the most iconic boogeymen of all time.

Much grittier than anything else in the series until Craven would return with New Nightmare, there is very little of the trademark wisecracks and villain worship that would come. In the original installment, Freddy Krueger is a terrifying creation, a scarred, insane, remorseless child killing demon who morphs and bends reality to his whim, far removed from the smarmier jokester that the character would eventually become. The setpieces (Johnny Depp sucked into his own bed; the body-bag dragging down the school hall; Freddy in the bath; the victim tossed around her room by an invisible Freddy) are as iconic as anything by Argento and the cast is likable enough to make us actually care what happens. In a long career, Wes Craven would never top this unforgettable blast of pure nightmarish nitro.

A Nightmare on Elm Street 2: Freddy’s Revenge — Coming off the high that was the original entry, the first sequel to Craven’s iconic creation was always going to have an uphill climb. It’s not that director Steve Miner didn’t try: there are certainly moments and setpieces (the opening school bus bit is pretty great, for one) that stand up with the first film. There’s a gleefully gonzo element to much of the film that allows for exploding parakeets, backyard barbecue massacres and an unexplained (but plainly obvious) homoerotic subtext that prevents the film from ever becoming boring.

On the other hand, however, Freddy’s Revenge is also sort of a mess, featuring an unnecessary possession angle (Freddy takes over a teen’s body in order to continue his killing spree), lots of rough acting and an unfortunately silly aftertaste to much of the proceedings: the aforementioned parakeet is one of those oddities that would never fit in anywhere, regardless of the film, context or era. If anything, Freddy’s Revenge stands as a fledgling franchise taking the first tentative steps towards immortality.

A Nightmare on Elm Street 3: The Dream Warriors — The first NOES film that I ever saw in the theater (I snuck into the showing when I was the ripe old age of ten), Dream Warriors is also my very favorite installment in the series, including Craven’s original. Hell, the third entry in the NOES franchise is actually one of my favorite films, of any genre, period.

For my money, Dream Warriors is the perfect culmination of what Elm Street has to offer: the kills/setpieces are inventive, unnerving and pretty glorious (Freddy as puppetmaster and “Primetime Freddy” are probably my favorites); the kids are likable and fun; the pop-metal soundtrack is appropriately kickass (in that patented late-’80s way) and, most importantly, Robert Englund’s Freddy finally perfected his trademark brand of razor-sharp snark here, finding a perfect balance between smarmy sarcasm and genuine dread. Dream Warriors also has the benefit of being one of only three Elm Street films that creator Craven was directly involved with: although he didn’t direct the film (that honor would go to The Blob remake’s Chuck Russell), Craven did co-write the script. As far as I’m concerned, horror films just don’t get much better than this.

A Nightmare on Elm Street 4: The Dream Master — Although it’s at least a solid half-step down from the utterly amazing Dream Warriors, Renny Harlin’s The Dream Master (his precursor to action juggernaut Die Hard 2) is still a great film and a more than worthy entry in the franchise’s “golden era.” We continue to get more of Freddy’s back story here and, although the humor is much more upfront, this is still, first and foremost, an inventive slasher film. Dream Master is also where Alice, NOES’ best final girl after the original Nancy, really comes into her ass-kicking own.

A Nightmare on Elm Street 5: The Dream Child — Although Stephen Hopkins’ (also known for Predator 2, Judgment Night and the criminally under-rated Ghost and the Darkness) Dream Child is much jokier and more gimmicky than its predecessors, it’s still a fun, highly watchable and suitably entertaining entry in the series. Although the film is never as inventive as the ones that immediately preceded it, the notion of Alice’s ever-sleeping unborn child is a great revelation/complication and the “doll party” death is still one of the ickiest and most disturbing in the entire franchise. The last truly good NOES film, since I’ve always considered New Nightmare to be a slightly different kind of animal.

Freddy’s Dead: The Final Nightmare — When it first came out in theaters, I remember that I couldn’t get enough of Freddy’s Dead, the “supposedly” final installment in the Elm Street saga (at that time, at least): I know that I saw it at least twice but I might have actually seen it three times, to be honest. I do remember one thing quite distinctly, however: if I got any more excited about the film’s 3D aspects (we were given glasses at the screening and I think I still have a pair stowed away somewhere), I’m pretty sure that my head would have literally exploded, sending brain matter to every corner of my humble multiplex.

Time and perspective, as they often are, have not been kind to The Final Nightmare (feature debut for Tank Girl’s Rachel Talalay and one of only three non-TV credits to her resume, thus far). In every way, Freddy’s Dead is the absolute nadir of the series (including the goofy second film), a film that’s much more interested in throwing silly, random pop culture references at the audience (“You forgot the Power Glove!” is as immortal as it is idiotic) than it is in crafting anything approximating a legitimate scare. Gone is any notion of actually being frightening, in any way, shape or form: this is Freddy Krueger as stand-up comic, “slaying” the audience with the aid of things like an extended Wizard of Oz gag and cameos from Tom and Roseanne Arnold.

Despite a genuinely intriguing core premise (with all of the children on Elm Street finally gone, the adults have all gone insane), Freddy’s Dead is nothing but one lame, dated raspberry after another. Small wonder, then, that when the series did finally attempt to move past The Final Nightmare, it went in the completely different, meta-fictional direction of New Nightmare: when you’ve scrapped the bottom of the barrel straight to the wood, there’s just no further down to go.

Friday, 10/23

Saw: The Final Chapter — As hard as it is for me to believe now, there was once a point in time where I not only really liked the Saw series but actually anticipated each entry with something that probably approached a low-level kind of fanboyism. Youth, as we all know, is very much wasted on the young.

By the time I finally got around to watching the concluding chapter of the series recently, not only was I no longer a die-hard fan, I actually disliked much of what I previously enjoyed, finding only the first and third entries to really have any merit. Saw: The Final Chapter (or Saw 3D, if you were “lucky” enough to catch it in theaters) is, without a doubt, the absolute worst entry in the franchise, a feat made all the more impressive when one remembers how truly wretched the 4th and 5th installments were. Loud, chaotic, nauseatingly violent, lunk-headed, ugly, inane and tedious, The Final Chapter manages to wrap everything up with a bow by introducing so many deus ex machinas and “twists” that it’s pretty obvious the series’ caretakers must dislike it as much as we do. The very best, most succinct way I can describe this film is “obnoxious.”

Wes Craven’s New Nightmare — After the franchise went out in a cotton-candy bang of celebrity cameos, Nintendo references and more bad one-liners than an amateur open mic, it seemed that Freddy Krueger and his little spot of suburban hell might go the way of the dodo. Instead, creator Wes Craven would return to the series he kickstarted a mere three years later with New Nightmare, a smart bit of meta-fiction that would serve as a sort of dry run for what would become Craven’s “modern-day” legacy: the Scream series.

Much more serious, stream-lined and genuinely eerie than anything in the franchise since the debut film (not surprising, considering the genesis), New Nightmare uses the conceit that the actual creative personnel behind the films (writer/director Craven, original stars Heather Langenkamp and John Saxon, Freddy portrayer Robert Englund) are now being haunted by an honest to god demon, a creature which has decided to portray itself as Elm Street’s resident stalker for familiarity reasons (think of the various forms that It takes throughout the novel, as comparison).

The meta-angle is smart because it allows Craven to not only return to the franchise he created but to also comment on the violence, terror and nightmares he’s left behind in his wake. More so than his peers, Craven has always been at his strongest when he’s not only creating horror but actively commenting on it, perhaps due to his early turn as a member of academia. As a NOES film, New Nightmare performs lots of smart fan service, giving Elm Street acolytes the opportunity to spend a little more time with some beloved old friends: as a horror film, it’s generally successful, trading in the gaudy variety of the later films for a more streamlined sense of stalk-and-slash. That said, the film’s action can tend towards the cheesy, at times (the final confrontation, in particular, is pretty silly), and there’s never the overriding sense of fun produced by the best films in the series (3, 1 and 4, if we’re keeping score). It’s a good film, mind you, and exponentially better than what immediately preceded it: it’s just never been one of my personal favorites, that’s all.

Saturday, 10/24

A Nightmare on Elm Street (2010) — I actively avoided watching the 2010 remake of Craven’s immortal Nightmare on Elm Street for a few different reasons: I really, really dislike unnecessary remakes; the recent “reboot” of Friday the 13th not only didn’t add anything new to the mix, it wasn’t even a particularly good F13 ripoff and the NOES “reboot” looked identical; I didn’t think Jackie Earle Haley was a suitable replacement for Robert Englund’s take on Freddy; the implied ultra-serious tone turned me off in the pre-release buzz; there wasn’t anything particularly wrong with the original NOES and I wasn’t sure what the new one was supposed to “fix” or “improve” and, of course, the most important reasons: I really, really dislike unnecessary remakes.

When it came time for this year’s October programming, however, I decided to give the reboot a shot and programmed it at the tail end of my NOES “marathon”: if there was ever a time to approach this with fresh, unjaded eyes, this was it and believe me when I say that I absolutely tried to do so. Despite my preconceived notions, I was fully prepared to let Samuel Bayer (better known for directing roughly a million music videos) blow me out of the water with his vision.

And then, of course, I actually watched the thing. Too technically well-made to be called crap, I still don’t have a problem applying the descriptor: this is soulless, overly glossy, loud, inane garbage, the kind of by-the-numbers modern multiplex filmmaking that’s conducted by committee rather than imagination. The new take on the makeup is awful, Haley’s performance is so generic and beige that he completely fades into the woodwork and all of the numerous references to the far superior original film (such as the “Freddy in the wall” gag) only serve to show just how chintzy and lame the new version is.

Look, I get it: modern audiences don’t like old stuff. No problem. In that case, why not give them someone new, then, instead of some idiotic reinterpretation of something that they’re not going to give two shits about in the first place? The NOES remake is offensive precisely because it appeals to exactly no one: old school fans need this roughly like we need a hole in our heads, whereas “the youth” will probably find this tepid version about as fascinating as listening to Gramps talk about record stores.

Dead of Night — Perhaps the less said about this haphazard late-’70s TV anthology film, the better. Consisting of three stories, Dead of Night features a suitably interesting cast (Ed Begley Jr., Patrick Macnee, Elisah Cook Jr., Horst Buchholz, Joan Hackett and Lee Montgomery all feature prominently) and then doesn’t give them much of anything interesting to do. Ranging from a pre-Back to the Future time-travel jaunt to a clichéd vampire period piece to a grieving mother bringing her dead son back from beyond, nothing here hits with any lasting impact and the overall impression is of a strictly bottom-of-the-shelf product slotted into a lonely Sunday night in order to kill time. Hopelessly dated, Dead of Night is proof that not every wine becomes a classic with age: some just turn into vinegar.

Lost River — Although it’s often easy to forget, celebrities and matinée idols are really, at the end of the day, just human beings like every one else. As such, they love (or hate) corn chips, sing in the shower and idolize other celebrities, just like everyone else. Case in point: leading hunk and all-around indie-action renaissance man, Ryan Gosling. While he may be a mega-charged star, in his own right, it’s pretty obvious that the Gos also really, really looks up to writer/director/badass Nicolas Winding Refn. After all, Gosling was already a lead before Refn cast him in the enigmatic Drive but it was that film (and role) that have clearly resonated the most with him: his “legitimization” in the world of “cool” films, as it were.

For his directorial debut, it’s not surprising that Gosling would turn towards the Danish wunderkind for inspiration, nor is it necessarily surprising that the result would be a huge mess. After all, Refn had to walk before he was setting the asphalt on fire, priming the pump with his Pusher series and the kinda/sorta biopic Bronson before diving into the weird with his surreal Viking curiosity Valhalla Rising and the magical-realist brutalist epics that would follow. With Lost River, Gosling jumps in without testing the waters, aiming for something like the neon-lit melancholy and perversion of Only God Forgives.

The problem, of course, is that all of this is way beyond the abilities of a fledgling filmmaker, especially one who’s still getting the hang of essential storytelling elements. In essence, Lost River is a mishmash of several dozen disparate tropes and themes, pulling in everything from weird, futuristic sex clubs (ala Clockwork Orange) and submerged towns to wandering gangs and general dystopia. There’s a love story (or two) here, lots of evocative atmosphere, plenty of head-scratching strangeness (the sex club, in particular is exceptionally strange) and not a whole lot of narrative. We get random musical numbers, probably because Only God Forgives did the same thing, but the effect is more one of opening random doors and observing assorted activities rather than any sort of overriding theme or intent.

None of this would, of course, make a damn bit of difference if the actual film was as mesmerizing as it intends. It’s not, unfortunately, but it certainly does try: Ben Mendelsohn turns in another of those performances that reinforces his status as the modern-day’s go-to sleazebag, while Christina Hendricks and Iain de Caestecker are solid as the mother/son duo at the heart of the film. There are eye-popping visuals aplenty and the sunken town is a fantastic concept, even if the actual execution leaves a bit to be desired. Even better, Gosling and cinematographer Benoit Debie (who shot Gaspar Noe’s mind-expanding/exploding Enter the Void) turn Detroit into a virtual post-apocalyptic wonderland, a crumbling land of the dead that provides the best possible backdrop for what Gosling has cooking.

Which, as previously mentioned, just doesn’t amount to much, in the end. Films certainly don’t have to make sense: there’s no written (or unwritten) rule that’s ever enforced that, least of all in my personal rulebook. The chief sin of Lost River isn’t that it makes an imperfect kind of sense: the chief sin of Lost River is that it’s haphazard and random, mood and image for the sense of such. Gosling might be looking towards such stylish artisans as Refn, Bava and Argento for inspiration but he’s forgotten the most important part: first and foremost, those filmmakers could tell a story. Lost River might be an “experience” but it could (and should) have been a whole lot more.

Sunday, 10/25

Bone Tomahawk — Although I like and watch all kinds of films, there are two genres that definitely have a lock on my heart: horror films and Westerns. While I’ve loved and been obsessed with horror films since I was a little kid, I actually grew up disliking Westerns something fierce, although anything with Clint Eastwood in it was always at the top of my fave list, regardless of genre. Once I grew up and was actually able to appreciate the genre, I learned that I had been a pretty huge bonehead (sorry Mom and Dad!) and that Westerns could be every bit as glorious as the horror films that I always swore by. Doh.

Since that point, I’ve always had my eyes peeled for that perfect intersection of my twin loves, that Venn diagram of utter awesomeness: the horror-Western. Like most rare, reclusive creatures, however, the horror-Western is a mighty difficult one to pin down. In fact, in all of these years, I’ve really only seen two films that I would consider to be absolutely essential horror-Westerns: Antonia Bird’s criminally under-rated Ravenous (1999), one of my all-time favorite films, and J.T. Petty’s stunning The Burrowers (2008), which has been burned into my mind since the very first time I saw it. At long last, these past favorites can finally set another place at the table: writer-director S. Craig Zahler’s Bone Tomahawk (2015) is not only the single best horror-Western I’ve seen since The Burrowers, it’s also one of the very best films of the year, hands down.

Bone Tomahawk, how do I love thee? Let me count the ways. I love how Kurt Russell channels the world-weary air of latter-day John Wayne for his flawless portrayal of Sheriff Franklin Hunt, one of the most effortless cinematic badasses ever. I love how Richard Jenkins’ Chicory is the culmination of every sassy, ancient deputy in the history of the genre. I love how none of the characters, whether Patrick Wilson’s kind-hearted and “traditional” hero or Matthew Fox’s charismatic but odious “Indian-killer” are ever reduced to just simplistic stereotypes or lazy cinematic tropes. I love how the smart, Tarantino-esque dialogue adds to the overall feel and flow of the film rather than calling unnecessary attention to itself: there’s a great scene involving the relative merits (or lack thereof) of reading in the tub that provides big belly laughs without detracting from the film’s overall thoughtful, mournful air.

I love cinematographer Benji Bakshi’s gorgeous, panoramic imagery, beautifully composed shots that elegantly place our small, insignificant heroes into a massive, almost apocalyptic landscape that perfectly illustrates the immensity of their quest. I love that the horror element (cannibalistic, nearly inhuman cave-dwelling troglodyte savages who communicate via a series of eerie howling calls) is grounded in reality but never so ruthlessly explained as to lose its overriding air of mystery and menace. Did I mention how much I love the opening that features Sid Haig and David Arquette doing what they do best? No? Well, I love that, too.

To be frankly honest (as if it wasn’t already painfully obvious), I loved every thing about Bone Tomahawk. Just like with The Burrowers and Ravenous, this felt like an instant classic from the very first frame, a feeling which remained constant and consistent throughout its runtime. This is not only a quality horror film or a quality neo-Western: it’s a quality film, period, the kind of immaculately made, exquisitely acted piece of art that makes my heart soar and validates any and every shitty, boring or clichéd film I’ve had to sit through this year. It’s an absolute given that Bone Tomahawk will end up on my year-end Best of list: if most critics didn’t wear blinders when it came to horror films, I’d be willing to wager it would end up on their lists, too.

Freddy vs Jason — The worst thing about Ronny Yu’s Freddy vs Jason isn’t that it’s a dumb film, although it certainly is that. In fact, I’d go so far as to say the film is aggressively stupid, pitched at such a loud, blaring and bubble-headed level that it all but guarantees derision from anyone who grew up on the original NOES and F13 franchises: by comparison, Freddy’s Dead and Jason Goes to Hell both come across as downright Shakespearen.

No, the worst thing about Freddy vs Jason, by a long-shot, is how hard it tries (and overwhelmingly succeeds) in making Freddy Krueger look like a complete and total moron. Never more than one banana peel slip away from outright buffoonery (perhaps that’s on the Blu-ray extras?), this is even more terrible when one realizes that it will also probably stand as Englund’s last official outing behind the makeup. When I think of Freddy, I’d rather think of the cunning, wily and bloodthirsty monster of Dream Warriors or New Nightmare, not the dope in Freddy vs Jason who spends the entire film running around shouting the equivalent of “Those meddling kids!” while shaking his tiny fists at the sky. There’s never a point here where Freddy approaches anything like his former menace (although the Alice in Wonderland riff is a nice try): he’s the whiny nerd making threats while someone gives him a swirly in the boys’ room, the blowhard doofus who needs a little comeuppance from the “cool kids.”

Is it fun, though? Eh…it’s certainly loud, kinetic and action-packed…is that the same thing? Although Freddy gets the shortest possible end of the stick, Jason makes out slightly better, possibly because his constantly bemused expression stands as a perfect surrogate for our disbelief. It’s almost as if Mr. Voorhees is thinking: “Huh: get a look at this, will ya? This is some pretty out there stuff, man.” The actual fight between Freddy and Jason is fun, sure, even if the whole thing feels suspiciously like one of those Peter vs the Chicken fights from Family Guy: at a certain point, they might as well be smashing through panes of glass on the street and upending fruit carts, for all the actual impact it has.

I will freely admit one thing, however: I laugh my damn ass off each and every time I watch the scene where the stoner, referencing Jason’s murderous rampage, observes “Dude, that goalie was pissed about something!” My guess? He just got finished watching this stupid movie.

Pay the Ghost — When it comes to Nicolas Cage, it’s never a given as to which side you’re going to get: will it be the teeth-gnashing, out-of-control, bee-hating Cage of The Wicker Man remake or will it be the restrained, low-key artisan of Joe? The glory of Cage, of course, it that it could be either (or both!): like a box of mixed chocolates, you never really know until you’ve paid your money and taken your chances.

For Uli Edel’s Pay the Ghost, we get a little of both sides, albeit watered-down: call it diluted Cage, if you will. And it works, for the most part: Cage is a massively likable presence as Mike Lawford, the hapless professor who manages to lose his young son during a chaotic Halloween carnival and uncovers a supernatural conspiracy when he tries to find him. There are some genuinely eerie moments here, even if many of them seem borrowed from similar genre fare like Mama or The Woman in Black (perhaps the closest parallel to Pay the Ghost’s themes and execution) and Edel (who was also responsible for the fantastic Baader Meinhof Complex) builds up a reasonable amount of tension throughout.

The biggest problem, as it turns out, is that the film ends up being both too convoluted and too familiar: the moments where Edel and screenwriter Dan Kay (scripting from Tim Lebbon’s novel) break away from the usual “evil forces snatching children” tropes end up being some of the film’s weakest, mostly because it’s often difficult for us to make the connections that the characters are. Even now, I’m not 100% sure of what transpired, although I’m pretty sure I’ve got the gist. That being said, the film is still a reasonable solid, well-made piece of multiplex-ready fare and features a strong performance from Cage and lots of creepy vultures: if that sounds like your thing, I suggest you pay this particular ghost and see what happens.