12/9/14: Truth in Advertising

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Army of Darkness, Brett Gipson, Brian Posehn, Chillerama, cinema, co-writers, Danny Pudi, demons, Dungeons & Dragons, evil books, fantasy vs reality, film reviews, films, horror-comedies, horror-fantasy, Jimmi Simpson, Joe Lynch, Kevin Dreyfuss, Knights of Badassdom, LARPers, live-action role playing, long-delayed films, male friendships, Margarita Levieva, Matt Wall, Movies, Peter Dinklage, practical effects, role-playing games, Ryan Kwanten, Sam Raimi, special-effects extravaganza, Steve Zahn, succubus, Summer Glau, summoning demons

Ever since audiences were greeted with the blatant lies that were Friday the 13th: The Final Chapter (1984) and Leonard Part 6 (1987), we can all be forgiven if we take movie titles with a grain of salt. After all, filmmakers will try literally anything to get butts into seats: hell, Chariots of Fire (1981) didn’t feature one flaming horse-drawn vehicle, let alone multiple ones! The Greatest Story Ever Told (1965)? Sound like a lot of bragging to me. Troll 2 (1990)? Trust me: the connection to the original extravaganza is, shall we say, tenuous at best. By this point, our eyes should be much more open: fool me twice and all that jazz.

For this very reason, Joe Lynch’s Knights of Badassdom (2013) should send up immediate signal flares: after all, the guy’s got the temerity to call his OWN characters “badass”…shouldn’t that be our job? I don’t know about you but I rather resent being force-fed someone else’s definition of “badass.” You see, I have pretty damn high standards as far as “badassdom” goes, standards which poor Joe can’t possibly hope to match. Should I be required to lower my own standards of what does and does not constitute “badassness” simply to satisfy his own misguided vision of his own creations?

Have no fear, fellow travelers: I’m here to tell you that, for once, there’s quite a bit of truth in this here advertising. While we may quibble over the degree, it’s more than fair to say that Lynch’s Knights of Badassdom is, indeed, quite badass. In some ways, he’s turned in the Army of Darkness (1992) sequel that folks have been clamoring about for the past couple decades: merging ridiculously over-the-top fantasy elements, deliciously snarky dialogue and some genuinely surprising gore effects, Knights of Badassdom is a real treat for those genre fans who like their fare loud, goofy and…well…badass.

After a nifty opening sequence that establishes a pretty cool mythos for a cursed medieval hymnal, we’re jumped into what appears to be a Satanic ceremony before finding out the fell truth: these folks be not of the olden times but, rather, are slightly more modern creations: LARPers. For those not in the know, LARPers (Live-action Role Players) are folks who take a look at tabletop gaming like Dungeons & Dragons and think, “This would be so much cooler if it were real.” To that end, LARPers dress in costume and assume the role of various characters (similar to role-playing games) in order to conduct large-scale “battles” and campaigns during the weekend: think of it as Lord of the Rings fans conducting Civil War reenactments and you’re in the right ballpark. While I’ve never actually LARPed, I’ve known a fair amount of folks who have and I can steadfastly vouch for the fact that the pastime is more than ripe for a little gentle satirization. Displaying not only a deft touch with skewering fantasy and LARP clichés but also a genuine fondness for his characters, Lynch turns what could have been a case of “Look at those dumb nerds” into something more traditionally heroic.

In short order, we’re introduced to our three main characters. The defacto protagonist, Joe (Ryan Kwanten), works in a garage, fronts a doom-metal band and has just written a rather intense “love song” for his girlfriend, Beth (Margarita Levieva), who promptly dumps him for being too “aimless.” Joe best friend, Eric (Steve Zahn), is a LARP obsessed millionaire who lives in a fake castle with the third member of their group, Hung (Peter Dinklage), another philosophy-spouting, perma-stoned LARPer.

Under the guise of helping Joe get over his fresh breakup, Eric and Hung get the poor fellow so drunk and high that he passes out, only to wake up somewhere in the woods, in full battle regalia: that’s right, in the spirit of best friends everywhere, Eric and Hung just shanghaied their friend and intend to force him to participate in their hobby as a way of taking his mind off his problems. Never mind the fact that Joe not only doesn’t participate in LARPing but actively mocks it and you have a sure-fire recipe for success, right?

Once there, we meet more of the rogues’ gallery including Ronnie (Jimmie Simpson), the batshit game master; Gwen (Summer Glau), the gorgeous warrior who kicks ass and takes names, her borderline autistic cousin Gunther (Brett Gipson), who’s so far into the game that he doesn’t seem to realize they’re actually playing a game and Lando (Community’s Danny Pudi, in a great role). If you guessed that Joe would end up falling for Gwen, you’ve either seen your fair share of these kinds of films or are mildly psychic. If you further guessed that Ronnie would be holding a grudge against Joe for some long-past slight (in this, giving his character “magic syphilis” during a heated Dungeons & Dragons session) and plans to get his revenge during the game, you’re really starting to scare me, man!

In order to appease the tyrannical Ronnie, Eric, Joe and Hung must perform a “resurrection” ceremony for Joe’s character, a ceremony which Eric opts to undertake using a non-regulation spellbook that he managed to get his hands on. As luck would have it, the spellbook is actually the very same cursed text from the opening (fancy that!) and Eric’s innocent “mumbo-jumbo” actually has a pretty dire outcome: he inadvertently calls forth a demonic succubus, a creature which assumes the face of Joe’s ex- as some sort of cruel cosmic joke. At first, no one is the wiser, as the succubus quickly and quietly works her way through the LARPers, ripping off a jaw here, yanking out a heart there. When tragedy strikes close to home and the truth of the situation is revealed, however, our intrepid crew have no choice but to spring into action and save their fellow role-players (and the world, presumably). As they’ll all come to find out, however, it’s one thing to wear armor and swing a plastic sword on the weekends but a whole other ball of wax to actually square off against ancient, all-powerful evil. Lucky for them, Eric always has a few real swords hanging around and it looks like it’s finally time for him to get…medieval.

Full disclosure: I really dug this film and, in time, might even come to love it. There’s such a gonzo, hyper sense of energy and fun to the proceedings that it’s impossible not to become sucked up in the silly spectacle of it all. Similar to Sam Raimi’s classic Evil Dead films, Lynch manages to come up with a perfect mixture of fantasy, humor and horror, with no one element really dominating the others, although the overall tone is almost always light and goofy. That being said, there are some genuinely strong horror moments here and some extremely well-done practical effects (the finale involving the monstrous demon and a mechanical dragon is a real showstopper) that definitely reminded me of the aforementioned Army of Darkness, right down to the mysteriously alive, sinister book at the heart of everything.

Perhaps the most critical element in a film like this (aside from a good script) is the cast and Knights of Badassdom manages to knock this one out of the park. While Zahn and Dinklage will probably be the most well-known names here, they’re ably matched by the rest of the cast. Kwanten is a great reluctant hero and his transition into armored asskicker by the film’s final reel is unbelievably satisfying. Glau, perhaps best known as River in Joss Whedon’s cult-classic Firefly series, makes the most out of a role that could’ve been more about the “male gaze” than character development: she never seems overly sexualized, however, and is never presented as a shrinking violet or “damsel in distress,” which is incredibly refreshing. Serving as glowering, silent counterpart to Glau’s sarcastic Gwen, Brett Gipson is pretty great as Gunther, who may or may not actually be a barbarian: he gets so many fist-raising moments in the film’s final 30 minutes that he nearly threatens to steal the show from the main characters.

Without a doubt, however, special recognition must be given to the amazing Jimmi Simpson, who makes Ronnie such a completely unforgettable character. Simpson, a remarkably gifted comic actor, has such a perfect sense of timing and delivery that virtually everything he says managed to provoke a laugh from me. Ronnie is the kind of character who could easily have become insufferable: he’s a complete jackass, an ineffectual moron who’s so myopic as to make Michael Scott seem like a major tactician. Despite this, however, Simpson is just so damn good that I found myself rooting for him despite of his caustic personality. As someone who’s head-over-heels for It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia, I’ve always felt that Simpson’s portrayal of the astoundingly weird Liam McPoyle must stand as one of the best comic creations of the past 40 years: his performance as Ronnie isn’t quite as legendary but it’s not bringing up the rear by much, either.

In any other situation, a film like Knights of Badassdom would have me worshipping at the feet of the filmmakers but this is, unfortunately, the one area where I feel a little qualified in my support. While Knights of Badassdom is only Lynch’s second film, it was technically his debut: started in 2010 and only completely wrapped-up last year, KOB would definitely seem to indicate even greater things on the horizon. The immediate follow-up, however, Chillerama (2011), easily stands as one of the single worst films I’ve seen in my entire life, hands down. An anthology film, Chillerama features a collection of worthless shorts by filmmakers that should definitely know better (Adam Green, in particular): Lynch’s short, even when compared to the others, is really awful. Truth be told, if Lynch hadn’t been behind Knights of Badassdom, I would have completely written him off after seeing Chillerama (which I saw before screening Knights). As it stands, I really have no idea where he’s going from here: his next feature could either be an unmitigated classic or the equivalent of cinematic coal in the stocking…only time will tell.

At the end of the day, however, the only thing that really matters is what’s currently in front of us: Knights of Badassdom. On this regard, I was completely blown away. Basically, Lynch’s film is the epitome of crowd-pleasing. This is the kind of movie where the LARPer teams have names like “The Norse Whisperer” and “The Department of Gnomeland Security,” where the final showdown involves fighting a demon with the power of metal (the musical style, not the material) and various locations are named after icons of nerd-culture (my favorite being The Temple of Syrinx, which actually made me do a spit-take). It’s a film that starts out good and becomes gradually better until it’s final 30 minutes are just about as good as it gets, period. It’s the kind of film where characters look into the distance, utter pithy quips and remind us of why we go to the movies in the first place. Knights of Badassdom is the kind of film where you get a line like, “You speak Enochian but can’t drive a truck?!” one minute and “I’m going to stop saving your life if you don’t show me some fucking respect!” the next. It’s a complete blast and, quite possibly, some of the most fun I’ve had watching a film in ages. Joe Lynch’s Knights of Badassdom is, for lack of a better word, thoroughly “badass.” In the immortal words of that other wise-crackin’ badass: “Come get some.”

10/31/14 (Part Four): All Hail the Pumpkin King!

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31 Days of Halloween, A Christmas Story, Alberto Ghisi, Anna Paquin, anthology films, Brett Kelly, Brian Cox, Britt McKillip, cinema, Connor Levins, cult classic, cult films, Dylan Baker, father-son relationships, favorite films, feature-film debut, film reviews, films, Glen MacPherson, Halloween, Halloween night, Halloween traditions, holiday classics, horror, horror films, Isabelle Deluce, Jean-Luc Bilodeau, kids in peril, Lauren Lee Smith, Leslie Bibb, long-delayed films, Mark Freeborn, Michael Dougherty, Moneca Delain, Monsters, Movies, Peter Greenaway, Pulp Fiction, Quinn Lord, Rochelle Aytes, Sam, Samm Todd, serial killers, Tahmoh Penikett, Tony Wohlgemuth, Trick 'r Treat, werewolves, Wes Anderson, writer-director, zombies

What is the true meaning of Halloween? I don’t mean the historical origins, mind you: we could sit and debate pagan ceremonies, harvest festivals, etc…til the cows come home and still not get any closer to the actual answer. As we should all know by now, holidays have a way of shedding their original meanings over time, of morphing into decidedly different entities than they once were. Just as the concept of Christmas has, over time, become more secular/commercial and increasingly divorced from its religious origins, so, too, has the concept of Halloween lost much of its pagan origins and become something much more universal.

But none of this answers the original question: what, exactly, is the true meaning of Halloween? If I may be so bold, I think that I have the answer. Halloween is ghosts and curses, trick or treating and costumes. It’s parties, pranks, candy, the color orange and the long, slow death of Fall. Halloween is the one time of the year where everyone in the world, horror fans and neophytes alike, relish every possible opportunity to scare themselves senseless. Halloween is about ancient traditions, scary movies and jack-o’-lanterns.  It’s about becoming someone/thing other than what you are, if only for a night. Halloween is all about having fun…but it’s also about the realization that death is only ever a stone’s throw away, hiding off in the shadows to pounce on the unwary. What is Halloween? Halloween is writer-director Michael Dougherty’s flawless Trick ‘r Treat (2007), a film that manages to encompass everything great and terrible about the holiday into one neat little package. Think of Trick ‘r Treat as the equivalent to A Christmas Story (1983), one of those films that just sums up a time of year so perfectly that you can’t imagine celebrating without it.

Structurally, Trick ‘r Treat is an anthology film, albeit one more like Pulp Fiction (1994) than Creepshow (1982): rather than feature several separate stories, one after the other, all of the tales in Trick ‘r Treat are interwoven together. Characters from one story appear in the periphery of other segments: incidents seen from one angle are given a 360-view once we’re privy to all the details. The effect, quite frankly, is stunning: Dougherty creates such a unified vision that Trick ‘r Treat ends up being one of the most three-dimensional horror films ever…we really get to know the characters involved because we see so many different facets of them. The one constant that unites it all? The ever-present specter of Halloween and the diminutive, instantly classic presence of Sam, one of the greatest modern horror creations in recent memory.

Sam, clad in what appears to be a scarecrow’s garb, complete with burlap-sack mask, flits into and out of each of the film’s various stories. The stories themselves, ranging from a young woman’s (Anna Paquin) sexual awakening to the tragic story of a school bus full of drowned children, are familiar but are all given unique twists and turns courtesy of Dougherty’s exceptional script. Sam, the very embodiment of the holiday, serves a variety of roles throughout the film: avenging angel, detached observer, gleeful participant, mischievous prankster, cold-blooded killer.  We never know quite when or where he’ll pop up next but pop up, he always does, ready with a rakish tilt of the head and that terrifying lollipop-knife of his.

I mentioned earlier that Trick ‘r Treat is a flawless film and I stand by that bold admission: there’s absolutely nothing about the film that ever takes me out of it for even a moment and each viewing ends with the desire to start the whole thing over. The acting…the filmmaking…the script…even the opening credits, styled like an old EC Comic, ala Creepshow…are all absolutely perfect. It’s quite handily become one of my favorite films and is one of the few movies that I can unequivocally recommend to anyone, regardless of individual tastes: if you like movies, you will like Trick ‘r Treat…I guarantee it, as Justin Wilson used to say.

From a filmmaking standpoint, Trick ‘r Treat is absolutely gorgeous and brilliantly made: the production design and art direction (by Mark Freeborn and Tony Wohlgemuth) are simply stunning, especially in eye-popping scenes like the yard full of jack-o’-lanterns or the ridiculously creepy scene where the kids find the half-submerged school bus. Glen MacPherson’s cinematography is nothing less than beautiful, giving the film a feel that’s pitched halfway between Wes Anderson and Sam Raimi. Truth be told, Trick ‘r Treat’s entire mis en scene reminds me of Anderson’s work (or, perhaps, even the work of legendary filmmaker Peter Greenaway): every scene and shot is so immaculately composed that it almost feels as if one has stepped into a perfect, miniature diorama.

Ultimately, there’s not a whole lot more for me to say about the film: I love it unconditionally and that’s pretty much all there is to it. Prior to seeing Trick ‘r Treat (which was inexplicably dumped straight-to-DVD after being delayed for years), I had always considered Carpenter’s classic Halloween (1974) to be the perfect representation of the season. There’s so much care and craft in Dougherty’s feature-debut, however, such a complete and genuine love for all things Halloween, that it’s impossible not to see Trick ‘r Treat as the ultimate Halloween film, bar none.

What is Halloween? Quite simply, Halloween is Michael Dougherty’s Trick ‘r Treat: all hail the Pumpkin King and long may He reign!

1/19/14: The Waiting is the Hardest Part

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alcoholism, All the Boys Love Mandy Lane, Amber Heard, anticipation, auteur theory, Cabin in the Woods, Chinese Democracy, cinema, documentaries, documentary, Film, Film auteurs, Happy People: A Year in the Taiga, high school angst, horror films, hunters, isolation, Jonathan Levine, long-delayed films, man vs. nature, Movies, Siberia, slasher films, trappers, Trick 'r Treat, Werner Herzog

Since this past weekend was a long one, I intended to cram as many films into Sunday and Monday as possible. I didn’t break any personal records but I did manage to pack four pretty disparate films into each day. As such, I’ve decided to split up the days and give each entry a little room to breath. This blog post will deal with the first two films from Sunday, All the Boys Love Mandy Lane and Happy People: A Year in the Taiga. We’ll deal with the final two next time.

It’s often been said that you don’t really appreciate something until you have to wait for it. The anticipation leading up to that moment can, oftentimes, be even greater than whatever enjoyment you might have garnered from whatever it is you’re waiting for. What happens, however, when the wait stretches to ludicrous proportions? If you’re a music fan, you might get Chinese Democracy. If you’re a film fan, you might get Trick ‘r Treat. Or, conversely, you might get All the Boys Love Mandy.

Let me be clear: there’s absolutely nothing wrong with director Jonathan Levine’s long-delayed homage to classic slasher films. The film does an excellent job of establishing a retro tone and look, even though there are enough modern touches (iPhones, most notably) to remind us that this is still taking place in the here and now. The violence is brutal and unrelenting, hearkening back to the yesteryear of practical effects and noisy stabbings. One kill in particular, a nasty bit involving a knife across the eyes reminded me directly of early Friday the 13th films.

The acting is, across the board, pretty strong: I normally don’t feel any connection to the disposable teens in slasher films, but I connected with a few of these yahoos nonetheless. Even when they were exhibiting boorish, crude behavior, there was still a basic humanity to all of them that made the kills sting a little, regardless of the bro-ish nature of the victims. I thought Amber Heard was good in the title role but certainly not the embodiment of Helen of Troy that the story posits. She was cute, don’t get me wrong, but I found it rather hard to believe that every male in the universe would be drawn to her like a moth to flame.

I must also praise the film’s sound design and soundtrack, elements which really added to the tone. I particularly liked the use of a cover of America’s “Sister Golden Hair,” perfectly cued as Mandy and her friends enjoy a last bit of youthful abandon before (presumably) the carnage begins: it’s a folky, wispy cover that is not only quite pretty but also fits the scene like a glove. Equally notable is the Bobby Vinton version of “Sealed with a Kiss” that closes the film: to be honest, the entire climax is extremely well done and pretty great, even if the “twist” is nothing special.

With all of these things to recommend it, then, what’s my hesitation with shouting my love of Mandy Lane from the rooftops? Well, essentially, there’s that whole thing about anticipation. You see, All the Boys Love Mandy Lane was made in 2006 but not released in North America until 2013 (the film received a limited UK release in 2008, however). It received good press at film festivals around the time of its completion, leading me to add the film to my “Must See” list at the time. As the years ground on, however, I actually forgot about the movie. Director Jonathan Levine went on to decent success with the Joseph Gordon Levitt cancer film 50/50 and, more recently, the zombie romance Warm Bodies which, I’m sure, helped to finally push All the Boys Love Mandy Lane into the public eye.

Is the film honestly worth a seven-year wait, however? Absolutely not. It’s a good film, sometimes a very good film but it doesn’t reinvent the wheel (or the genre, for that matter) or bring anything new to the table aside from the very nice cinematography and production designs. This was Levine’s debut feature but ended up being his fourth film to see release…yikes. As a comparison, Joss Weadon’s Cabin in the Woods and Michael Dougherty’s Trick ‘r Treat also experienced unduly lengthy release delays. They also, however, were incredibly crafted, highly-meta film experiences that justified every second of their ridiculous delays. All the Boys Love Mandy Lane is just a really good film that probably would have looked even better in 2006.

How in the hell can you not absolutely love Werner Herzog? I mean, really: if this guy isn’t the living embodiment of The Most Interesting Man in the World, who is? He’s been responsible for some of the most amazing, confounding art films in history (Aguirre, the Wrath of God; Fitzcarrldo; Only Dwarfs Start Small), some of the most batshit crazy Klaus Kinski moments in a career filled to bursting with batshit (the aforementioned Aguirre; Nosferatu the Vampyre; Cobra Verde), made a handful of amazing documentaries, including one about a guy who gets devoured by a grizzly bear and even directed a sequel to Abel Ferrara’s sleazy Bad Lieutenant starring the one and only Nicholas “Intensity” Cage. Is there anything Herzog can’t do?

For Happy People: A Year in the Taiga, Herzog serves as co-director and narrative, meaning we get the unmitigated pleasure of listening to Herzog expound on anything and everything around him. Believe me when I say that there are few joys as pure and absolute as listening to Herzog detail the necessary procedures to keep food safe from bears…this, by itself, deserves an Oscar.

As the title indicates, Happy People chronicles an entire year in the lives of a group of Russian hunter/trappers living in the Taiga region of Siberia. Completely inhospitable to the average person, the Taiga is only accessible by helicopter or boat and boats can only dock for a few months in the Summer. As such, this is pretty much one of the toughest places on earth, the kind of location that Jack London would head to for some rest and relaxation. The weather is cold, the terrain is formidable, food is scarce and clouds of mosquitoes fill the air. The hunters spend pretty much the entire year either preparing for the Winter hunt or actually hunting, only seeing their families for a few days at a time every couple of seasons. By all definitions, this is a brutally hard life.

Yet, the film is called Happy People. And, according to what we see (and Herzog tells us), these are happy people, indeed. They’re happy because when they finally leave the (relative) comforts of home and head into the wild to live off the land, they are truly free from the constraints of society. There are no taxes, no governments, no politicians or silly societal rituals to observe. There is only the hunter and his dogs, using their instincts, wits and training to survive and their personal ideals to guide them.

Admittedly, the revelation for the purpose of Herzog’s documentary is rather Zen but it perfectly fits his career-long themes. Herzog has always been an expert at documenting the lengths that man will go to isolate himself from the outside world and the ways in which the world will continue to make itself know. In Happy People, the outside world intrudes in a number of ways, most notably with the politician who visits the remote village to stump for his campaign (only the children pay attention and it’s doubtful that they’re allowed to vote) and the greedy hunters who earn the scorn of the other trappers by hunting and trapping in off seasons, depleting the stole population and putting everyone’s livelihood in jeopardy. Herzog also, for a brief time, turns his cameras on the Ket people, local natives who have fallen into alcoholism and can only collect firewood and perform other menial tasks to earn their pittance for survival. The point is pretty clear: when the outside world intrudes, humanity is crushed, whether spiritually, economically or politically.

As a film, Happy People is extraordinarily well-crafted. The footage is absolutely gorgeous, particularly the stunning and unforgettable Winter footage. There’s plenty of genuine pathos in the film, especially with regards to the relationship between the hunters and their dogs. One story, about a dog sacrificing itself to save its master from a bear, would make the hardest heart crack. The scene where one of the trappers returns to the village via snowmobile while his dog runs beside him, nonstop throughout the day and night, is, quite simply, one of the most magnificent moments ever laid to film. The visual grandeur of the moment is dwarfed by the impossible power of what’s happening: a dog so attuned to its master that it will run for a hundred miles without stopping.

Ultimately, Happy People offers one of the best, most valuable lessons any of us could ever take away from a film: To get through life, you need to grit your teeth and push on, no matter what stands before you. When you come home from a long, hard day of hunting and discover that your cabin has been completely crushed by a fallen tree, sometimes, you just have to grin and repair it. This sounds like a lesson we could all stand to learn.