4/26/15: Man’s the Only Animal That Foreshadows

Tags

Aaron Staton, actor-director, camping, Christopher Denham, cinema, Cody Saintgnue, dysfunctional marriage, feuding brothers, fight for survival, fighting back, film reviews, films, Home Movie, hunting humans, hunting trip, isolation, lost in the woods, masked killers, Michael Chacon, Movies, Nick Saso, Pablo Schreiber, Preservation, PTSD, survival of the fittest, survival-horror, thrillers, Wrenn Schmidt, writer-director

You know that guy at the party who says something “clever” and then spends the rest of the evening elbowing you in the ribs, saying “You get it? You get it?” until you want to throw him off the nearest roof? Well, Christopher Denhams’ Preservation (2014) is an awful lot like that guy: the film spends the first 20 minutes hammering its main theme into the ground (“Man is the only animal that kills for fun” isn’t just the film’s tagline: it’s practically its mantra) only to have the rest of the film follow in such a predictable manner as to induce feelings of deja vu. On one hand, though, you really have to hand it to Preservation: it promises one thing and then delivers it. Over and over and over again, rinse, wash, repeat.

Our trio of protagonists are Wit (Wrenn Schmidt), her husband, Mike (Aaron Staton) and Mike’s gruff brother, Sean (Pablo Schreiber, perhaps best known as Orange is the New Black’s odious “Pornstache”). The group have headed deep into the woods so that the estranged brothers can relive one of their long-treasured childhood hunting trips, dragging Wit along even though she’s a vegetarian who’s uncomfortable, to say the least, with killing animals. “I don’t think I can kill,” Wit tells Sean, to which he knowingly replies, “You’d be surprised what you can do when it’s fight or flight.” Remember all that hammering-home I mentioned earlier? Get used to it, buckaroos, cuz it ain’t going anywhere.

Faster than Sean can say “Just because you can’t see ’em doesn’t mean they’re not there” and that old chestnut “Man’s the only animal that kills for fun,” our heroes seem to wander into an exceptionally strange situation. Waking from the previous evening’s festivities, the group realizes two things right off the bat: all of their possessions, including their packs, supplies and tents, have been taken while they slept and they each have a large, black “X” drawn on their foreheads. There’s a little bit of finger-pointing and blame-gaming thrown back and forth between Mike and Sean before we get to the revelation that should, presumably, surprise no one: the group is being actively hunted by a group of masked, heavily armed psychos.

From this point, the film hits all the standard “survival-horror” tropes, culminating with the realization that Wit must become everything that she abhors in order to survive: she’s going to have to get her hands dirty and fight to kill. Who are the mysterious assailants? Why are they pursuing Wit, Mike and Sean? Will Wit be able to make a final, desperate stand or will the silent, isolated woods become her ultimate resting place? When the game is self-preservation…there are no rules.

Despite having a more than capable cast, Preservation ends up being more than a little shallow, silly and, to be honest, rather obnoxious. The script is fairly awful, full of ridiculously on-the-nose dialogue and contrived sequences: there’s no point where any of the actors feel genuine, mostly because it’s difficult to take anything they say seriously. Schreiber, in particular, is saddled with some of the clunkiest lines I’ve come across in an indie horror film in some time: anytime he talks, it feels like he’s ticking points off a script breakdown. Schmidt and Staton have zero chemistry which tends to reduce the stakes on many of their scenes together: it was rather difficult to believe that these two even knew each other, much less genuinely loved each other.

Even stripped to its core survival-horror elements, Preservation falls well short of the mark. The majority of the action/violence occurs off-camera (sorry, gorehounds) and the handful of action scenes are poorly blocked, rarely amounting to more than a flurry of chaos and motion. While the film does build up a reasonable amount of tension, at times, it never really amounts to much, probably because everything is so familiar: if you think you know how any particular scene will progress, chances are you’re right. While horror films have a long history of predictability (just think back to the veritable oceans of anonymous slasher flicks that flooded video store shelves in the ’80s), Preservation does absolutely nothing whatsoever to mess with the formula. Even the film’s big “twist” reveal is so hackneyed and clichéd that careful (or even non-comatose) viewers should be able to figure it out after the very first appearance of the villains: needless to say, it’s difficult to be shocked, surprised or amazed by anything when we always seem to be five steps ahead of the film, itself.

To be honest, I was actually surprised by how slight and silly Preservation was for one very simple reason: writer-director Denham’s previous film, Home Movie (2008), is one of the most disturbing, well-made and haunting indie horror films I’ve ever seen. His found-footage portrait of parents coming to terms with their two unbelievably evil children is one brick to the face after another, culminating in the kind of harrowing finale that can, literally, haunt dreams. Home Movie completely blew me away when I saw it years ago and I’ve been eagerly awaiting a follow-up ever since: suffice to say that Preservation couldn’t have disappointed me more if it had actually been made with just that express purpose.

Despite this disappointment, however, I haven’t quite given up on Denham (goes to show just how impressed I was by his debut). While Preservation’s script is dreadful, Home Movie’s was quite good: ditto on the scenario end of things. As such, I’m deathly curious to see which direction his third film (whenever it appears) will take. Here’s to hoping that the next wait will bear much more delectable fruit than this most recent excursion. When your film has a problem making a life-or-death Port-a-Potty battle between Pornstache and a masked assailant interesting, well…it might just be time to pave over this preservation and put up a parking lot.

5/17/14: It’s Always the Quiet Guys

Tags

Alaska, based on a true story, Bob Hansen, Cindy Paulson, cinema, Curtis "50 Cent" Jackson, Dean Norris, directorial debut, feature-film debut, film reviews, films, hunting humans, Jack Halcombe, John Cusack, Movies, murdered prostitutes, Nicholas Cage, period-piece, police procedural, Scott Walker, serial killer, set in the 1980's, state troopers, Summer of Sam, The Frozen Ground, torture, Vanessa Hudgens, writer-director, Zodiac

Although I have a tendency to rail on (and on…and on…) about how much I dislike unoriginal films, there’s certainly something to be said for a no-frills, back-to-basics movie that just wants to tell a story. In particular, I tend to have a weakness for scrappy little police procedurals, especially ones that feature a determined cop squaring off against a cagey, ruthless serial killer. These films are often nothing extraordinary but, when done well, can be just as tense and illuminating as something for original or mind-bending. In recent times, Spike Lee’s Summer of Sam (1999) and David Fincher’s Zodiac (2007) both fit the bill pretty well: while neither one blew me away, they were both solid, respectable and consistently watchable films that were full of incredibly solid performances. The newest member of this particular club would have to be first-time writer-director Scott Walker’s The Frozen Ground (2013), based on a true story about a serial killer who stalked the Alaskan wilds in the ’80s. Although there’s nothing spectacular here, The Frozen Ground ends up being a solid, well-acted and, occasionally, quite powerful little film.

Beginning with a quote from Matthew 10:16 (“Behold, I send you forth as sheep in the midst of wolves”) and a stunning aerial view of the dark, slightly sinister Alaskan wilderness, The Frozen Ground wastes no time in throwing us into the story. It’s 1983 and the police have just raided an apartment where they’ve found a bloody young lady (Vanessa Hudgens) handcuffed in a bathroom. She tells the police that her abductor planned to put her in a plane and take her to his remote cabin. They don’t buy her story, however, which leads us to the “chase” proper. Jack Halcombe (Nicholas Cage) is an Alaskan State Trooper who’s determined to track down the madman responsible for killing prostitutes and dumping them in the middle of nowhere. Halcombe suspects Bob Hansen (John Cusack), a well-liked local businessman who seems the very picture of small-town celebrity: whenever he walks into a place, it’s like Norm walking into Cheers. No one, of course, is willing to admit that there might be a dark side to this beaming pillar of the local business community.

But they should, of course, because Bob is batshit crazy. This isn’t much of a secret, to be honest: the film never makes any bones about Hansen being the baddie and Halcombe is always suspicious of him. Like real-life cases, however, figuring it out is only part of the puzzle: the bigger issue is proving it. To that end, Halcombe will need to track down Cindy Paulson (Vanessa Hudgens), the only known survivor of the killer. Problem is, Cindy is a notorious drug abuser and still hooks, making her a little difficult to track down. With the help of Sgt. Lyle Haugsven (Breaking Bad’s Dean Norris), Halcombe gets to tracking down Cindy. Time is running out, however, because Bob has decided that it’s time to tie up loose ends and Cindy is the first name on the list.

While there’s nothing extraordinary or surprising about The Frozen Ground, there’s also nothing particularly wrong with it, either. The story hits all of the familiar beats that you’d expect in something like this, the cinematography is suitably dark and foreboding (when it needs to be) and the acting, for the most part, is pretty high-caliber. In particular, Nicholas Cage does a phenomenal job as the determined State Trooper, reigning in all of his over-the-top tendencies to create a character that feels completely and wholly real. I really like Cage: he seems like a really cool, self-aware dude and somebody who’d probably be a blast to joyride with. As an actor, however, I find him to be in the same basic boat as Gary Busey: for the most part, he just seems to play variations of himself in everything. While this may work in purposefully OTT productions like the awful Ghost Rider movies or that risible remake of The Wicker Man (2006), it’s much more problematic in films that require more low-key, realistic performances. Cage’s turn in The Frozen Ground, for the most part, is completely restrained and, as a result, is probably my favorite performance of his since Matchstick Men (2003). The best compliment I can pay him, regarding this performance, is that he never once took me out of the film: at no point did I go from watching “Jack Halcombe” to “Nic Cage,” unlike pretty much anything from the last 10-15 years. He’s completely excellent here and the film is worth a watch if for nothing else than an opportunity to see Cage under-act, for a change.

Cusack, on the other hand, has always been a more problematic actor for me. I really enjoyed him, up to a point, but it seems like he’s been spinning his wheels for years, playing variations on the exact same character in everything he does. While he’s not quite that anonymous in The Frozen Ground, he’s also not particularly note-worthy, save for one exceptionally unpleasant scene where he mentally tortures one of his victims. If any, Cusack seems a little checked out here, although there’s nothing overtly wrong with the performance: it just seems a bit perfunctory. Curtis “50 Cent” Jackson appears as Cindy’s pimp and he’s not bad, although it took me a while to recognize him under one of the silliest long-hair wigs I’ve ever seen. Dean Norris is predictably solid as Halcombe’s sort-of partner but I wish he had more screen time: Norris is one of those actors who’s always doing interesting things with his face and body language yet seems doomed to play character roles for the rest of his life. I really hope this isn’t the case: it would be nice to see him carry a film, one day, rather than providing able backup.

The one sore point in the film, if there could really be said to be one, would definitely have to be Hudgens’ performance. I will admit that I’m not a fan of her’s in the slightest but I was still willing to give her the benefit of the doubt: after all, who could’da thunk that David Bowie would turn out to be such a great actor? Alas, Hudgens is no Bowie (this would make a great T-shirt, by the way) and her performance as Cindy indicates that she’s not much of a thespian, either. All weird tics, awkward line delivery and uncontrolled emotion, Hudgens didn’t work for me at all. This, of course, is a little worrisome in a film where her character is supposed to serve as the emotional core. As such, the film seems to exist around her but she’s never fully integrated into anything. It’s the equivalent of grabbing an audience member to sub for a sick Broadway performer: the show might go on but it won’t feel quite right.

On the whole, fans of these kinds of movies will find plenty to appreciate in The Frozen Ground. While the story is far from original and is precipitated on one of those Matlock-esque “I shoulda killed you when I got the chance!” outbursts, it’s frequently tense, extremely well-shot and moves purposefully towards its conclusion. In a way, it’s kind of refreshing to watch a film like this that just tells a linear A-B story, without the need to muddy things up with extraneous flashbacks, flashforwards, voice-over narration or excessive emotion. If The Frozen Ground were a mid-term, it would probably get a B. If you were a particularly lenient instructor, however, I see no reason why that B couldn’t be upped to a B+. Just don’t go into this expecting Hurricane Nic: in this instance, Cage left the persona at home and just brought himself to the party.