2/28/15 (Part Four): Making a Case For the Staycation

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Andrés Levin, Beto Cuevas, black magic, Borderland, Brian Presley, cinema, co-writers, cults, Damián Alcázar, drug cartel, drug cartels, drug dealers, Eric Poppen, extreme films, extreme violence, film reviews, films, foreigners abroad, Francesca Guillén, gory films, Greg McLean, horror, horror films, horror movies, Hostel, human sacrifice, inspired by true events, Jake Muxworthy, Marco Bacuzzi, Martha Higareda, Mexican gangs, Mexico, Movies, Rider Strong, Scott Kevan, Sean Astin, set in Mexico, torture, torture porn, tourists, violent films, Wolf Creek, writer-director, youth in trouble, Zev Berman

If there’s one thing that modern horror films seem to make abundantly clear, it’s that tourists make great cannon fodder. From Hostel (2005) to Wolf Creek (2005), from Turistas (2006) to The Ruins (2008) all the way to the frigid water of the Reykjavik Whale Watching Massacre (2009), horror films have taught us that foreigners abroad (usually Americans in foreign countries…fancy that!) can expect a few things: beautiful locations, sinister locals, dangerous sight-seeing and more occult ceremonies, dismemberment and torture than they can shake a stick at. Hell, under this rubric, Australia’s Greg Mclean is probably the number one bane to that country’s tourism industry: between his Wolf Creek films and Rogue (2007), his giant croc opus, it’s a wonder that any non-resident would ever want to step foot in the Land Down Under, much less poke around in its isolated, Outback areas.

Tourism-based horror films work, in many cases, because we all (Americans, in particular) harbor certain preconceived notions and prejudices about “the other”: we all want to take in and experience as much of the world as we can but there’s always the nagging notion that what you don’t know can, without a doubt, flay you alive. Meeting new people and experiencing new cultures is always a good thing, we say, but humanity’s inherent fear of the unknown is a mighty powerful primal urge to overcome. For some audiences (and filmmakers, apparently), there can be nothing more terrifying than being “stuck” in a foreign country, surrounded by strangers, unable to fully communicate, protect or look after ourselves. It’s a biased fear, of course, but aren’t all fears? After all, the difference between fearing something and respecting it is usually a pretty small step, one that begins with understanding and empathy. As the TV used to say: knowing is half the battle.

Zev Berman’s Borderland (2007) is another in the long line of “tourists in peril” films, while also slotting neatly into the “torture-porn” subgenre that was spearheaded by the likes of Saw (2004) and Hostel (2005) in the mid-’00s. While I’ve never been a fan of torture-porn films, despite having seen more than my fair share – I’ll go on record as saying that the Saw films are something of a guilty pleasure, for me, while I find the Hostel films (and most of Eli Roth’s output, to be honest) to be fairly worthless, aside from the geek-show appeal – I’ve seen plenty that manage to balance their gratuitous blood-letting and suffering with actual narratives. When done right, these types of films can be unbelievably powerful, drawing us right into the dark heart of suffering and putting us uncomfortably close to the terrible action on screen. Despite some scattered issues, Berman’s Borderland ends up in the “well done” column, thanks to some atypically solid acting, a suffocating sense of helplessness and a connection to real-world events, no matter how tenuous. They’re small differentials, in some cases, but they make all the difference in a relatively crowded field.

The “other,” in this case, is Mexico: to be more specific, the violent, drug cartel aspect of Mexico that’s managed to turn the border between the U.S. and its southern neighbor into a veritable war-zone. The issue, of course, is much more complex than simply “good vs evil”: notions of societal infrastructure, politics (both domestic and international), xenophobia and good old-fashioned capitalism all play in. While the notion of eradicating the cartels is a noble one, it’s also a notion that’s steeped in wish-fulfillment as much as reality: at this point, the relationship between the cartels, Mexico’s political structure and its civilians is too intertwined to be easily severed. There’s also the underlying (and largely unspoken) notion that the United States plays a huge role in this problem: issues of supply and demand notwithstanding, the “war on drugs” has managed to turn cartels into cash cows, in the same way that Prohibition managed to give the mob a significant boost in the ’20s.

This is the framework into which we’re dropped, although the meat of the narrative is another “fish out of water” tale, involving a trio of freshly graduated, all-American high school seniors who decide to have one, last blow out in Mexico and get more than they bargained for. The trio are “types” more than individuals but that’s also par for the course: Henry (Jake Muxworthy) is the macho, cocky douchebag with a dick for a brain and an inherent dislike of the lower classes; Phil (Rider Strong) is the geeky virgin who just wants to get laid and Ed (Brian Presley) is the sensitive, nice guy (and obvious hero). After Ed “saves” a comely bartender (Martha Higareda) who ends up being more than capable of taking care of herself, the trio get a pair of bumming-around companions in the form of Valeria and her demure, religious cousin, Lupe (Francesca Guillén).

This is all well and good, of course, but the film’s opening introduced us to a severely terrifying group of Mexican drug dealers, led by the astoundingly creepy Gustavo (Marco Bacuzzi), and it doesn’t take a psychic to foretell that paths will, eventually, be crossing. When Phil mysteriously disappears after going to visit his 17-year-old prostitute “girlfriend” (she was his first, after all), Ed and Henry, along with Valeria and Lupe, scour the area, looking for any signs of him. When they run into a grizzled, former police detective by the name of Ulises (Damián Alcázar), however, they learn about the cartel and discover just how much trouble their friend (and they) are really in. As luck would have it, they’ve come to town just as the cartel’s “high priest,” Santillan (Beto Cuevas), has arrived: it’s time for a special ceremony, it seems, and Phil is the guest of honor.

Despite its unrelenting brutality, Borderland is actually a fairly thoughtful, well-thought-out film. While the camera never shies away from the violence (particularly in the incredibly unpleasant scene where a cop is tortured), it also doesn’t wallow in it: there’s never the sense that Berman has simply strung one gore setpiece to the next, ala the Hostel films. The violence is all justified within the framework of the story: Santillan and the cartel have a reason for doing what they’re doing, even if it isn’t a particularly solid one, which positions this as the furthest thing from “psycho killers hackin’ up teens.”

Unlike the recent spate of overly-glossy, polished horror films (think anything by Platinum Dunes), Borderland actually has a gritty, grainy look that really helps sell the foreboding atmosphere. At times, particularly during the opening credits, the film actually reminded me (favorably) of Tobe Hooper’s original Texas Chainsaw Massacre (1974), although Berman’s film is nowhere near as accomplished. Cinematographer Scott Kevan, who also shot Eli Roth’s gore-tastic Cabin Fever (2002), does lose points for some unnecessarily shaky camera (especially during some nausea-inducing running scenes that would make the Blair Witch blush) but it’s never bad enough to fully pull one out of the action.

One of Borderland’s secret weapons is definitely it’s collection of bad guys. Beto Cuevas’ Santillan is a cold, reptilian, uber-polite, smart and unassuming dude, the kind of guy that you wouldn’t mind discussing art with…if he wasn’t so busy sawing you into pieces, that is. Channeling something of the cool menace of Anthony Hopkin’s legendary Hannibal Lecter, Cuevas is nothing short of masterful and Santillan is, easily, one of the scariest “real-world” villains to pop up in horror films in some time. We’ve already mentioned Bacuzzi’s freakish Gustavo (sort of a Mexican cartel Michael Berryman who shoots first and asks never), but let’s not forget Sean Astin’s stellar take on the ex-pat-turned-cartel-whipping-boy Randall: friendly, apologetic and completely mercenary, Randall is the last person you’d want watching you in this situation. Put them all together and Borderland has a better group of villains that most action films I’ve seen in a while: kudos, indeed!

While Borderland certainly plays up the popular media perception of the Mexican border as a lawless war-zone (we’re informed that the film is “inspired by real events” at the outset), it’s certainly no more xenophobic than any of the aforementioned tourist-related horror films. We spend time with not only the cartel but also the police and locals (in the form of Valeria and Lupe): it’s not a fully-fleshed portrait, by any stretch of the imagination, but it’s a fair sight more balanced than the typical “sneering, glowering, backwoods” take on this sort of thing.

I also appreciated that Higareda’s Valeria was never a shrinking violet, clichéd sexpot or damsel in distress: by the film’s conclusion, she’s maintained herself as a fairly independent asskicker and a worthy equal to Ed. Additional bonus points for allowing the character of Henry to develop (if ever so slightly) from arrogant asshole to properly-humbled dude after a confrontation with Gustavo: I’d change my tune awful damn quick if I butted heads with that guy, too!

Ultimately, Borderland is a well done, if decidedly unpleasant, film: despite a questionably happy ending, the majority of Berman’s movie is claustrophobic, lean, mean and engineered to pummel an audience into submission. While nothing here surprised me, necessarily, I was genuinely impressed by the way all of the moving parts came together into a cohesive, fairly unique and endlessly disturbing whole. While there might not be a shortage of tourist-in-peril or torture-porn films on the market, Berman’s Borderland manages to stand out from the crowd: sometimes, that’s all you can ask for.

9/1/14 (Part Two): Sisters From Another Mother

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action, Amigo, auteur theory, Best of 2013, cinema, crime thriller, Don Harvey, drama, Edward James Olmos, Elizabeth Sung, female friendships, feminism, Film auteurs, film reviews, films, friends, friendship, Go For Sisters, Hilary Barraford, independent films, indie dramas, Jesse Borrego, John Sayles, Kathryn Westergaard, LisaGay Hamilton, Mahershala Ali, McKinley Belcher III, Mexico, missing son, Movies, parole officer, Vanessa Martinez, writer-director, Yolonda Ross

True friendship is a rare beast, indeed. Not the friendships of convenience that the modern age makes so necessary, mind you, but the honest to god, flesh and blood, right in front of your face kind of friendships that last for lifetimes. These are the kinds of friendships for which the cliché “take a bullet” is actually a truth…the kind that blur the line between kin and acquaintance. If we’re lucky, we’ll all have one of those friendships at some point in our lives, although it’s not a given: friendships like this need to be worked at, maintained and that kind of dedication just isn’t for everyone. It’s easy to say that you’ll always be there for someone but much harder to actually deliver on said promise.

In many ways, legendary writer/director John Sayles’ most recent film, Go For Sisters (2013), is a tribute to true friendships of the type described above. It’s also a whip-smart, fast-paced, lean and mean crime thriller but that’s just how Sayles has always done things: from as far back as The Brother From Another Planet (1984), Sayles has mixed social critique and genre conventions to dizzying effect, resulting in some truly unforgettable films. Under the guise of historical dramas, thrillers, police procedurals and sci-fi films, Sayles has managed to comment on everything from race relations and immigration to U.S. colonialism, the sins of the father, corruption and greed. While his body of a work as a writer/director is impressive enough on its own, Sayles has also been something of a writing “gun for hire” in Hollywood, as it were, churning out the scripts for everything from Roger Corman’s original Piranha (1978) to Alligator (1980) and Clan of the Cave Bear (1986). In every sense of the term, John Sayles is a living legend and any new Sayles film is an event worth celebrating: Go For Sisters reminds us that the filmmaker is as relevant today as he was way back in 1979.

The “true friends” in Go For Sisters take the form of Bernice (LisaGay Hamilton) and Fontayne (Yolonda Ross), life-long friends who’ve become separated by the inexorable march of time and change. While they used to be quite the wild pair, Bernice’s current job as a parole officer bespeaks of a rather significant life change. The two reconnect when Bernice ends up being Fontayne’s parole officer: Bernice may have gone the straight and narrow but Fontayne still struggles to escape the cycle of crime and drugs that’s held her down for so many years. At first glance, it seems like these former friends won’t have a lot of common ground to stand on but life, as always, is never that simple.

It turns out that Bernice is having her own problems, namely the disappearance of her wayward military vet son, Rodney (McKinley Belcher III). Since Rodney is a bit of a wild child, himself, Bernice isn’t sure whether her inability to contact him is due to his lifestyle or a genuine problem. When she sees Fontayne again, however, Bernice sees her ticket into the “underworld” via her wayward friend’s illicit connections. While Fontayne is less than thrilled with the prospect of violating her parole nine ways to Sunday, Bernice assures her that it can’t be a violation if her parole officer is sanctioning it. Before long, the pair get a lead and head for Mexico, putting Fontayne into a potentially boiling pot of scalding trouble: if hanging out with known felons is a parole no-no, skipping the country must rank as some sort of hell-no.

Once in Mexico, Bernice and Fontayne team-up with disgraced former police officer-turned bounty hunter Freddy Suarez (Edward James Olmos) and continue their hunt for Rodney, coming ever closer to the truth behind his disappearance. The truth, of course, ends up being even crazier than they imagined and involves illegal Chinese immigrants, a vicious Mexican drug lord and the mysterious, sinister Mother Han (Elizabeth Sung), who just may be pulling the strings behind it all. As Bernice and Fontayne get deeper and deeper into the muck, they rekindle their formerly extinguished friendship and find out the clearest, most important truth of all: when you have real friends, you can overcome any obstacle, fight any foe and win any battle. Bernice and Fontayne may be outgunned, outmanned and out-maneuvered but as long as they have each other, the bad guys just don’t stand a chance.

In an era when women seem to increasingly get the shit end of the stick in both the “real world” and pop culture, it’s not only refreshing but downright necessary to have films like Go For Sisters. Not only are Bernice and Fontayne the central figures of Sayles’ film but they’re stronger than any male character in the film. Even the heroic, steadfast Freddy Suarez is nothing compared to the rock-solid female leads: if anything, Go For Sisters reminds of a less flamboyant, cliche-ridden version of one of Pam Grier’s classic blaxploitation roles. There’s no point in the film where either woman feels like a victim, someone in need of male protection or male guidance: one of the most telling points in the film is the one where Fontayne explains her homosexuality with the dismissive, “boys turn into men…you know how that goes.” If we don’t already, we get a pretty good example via the pairs various interactions throughout the film, with the exception of Edward James Olmos’ pseudo-white knight Suarez.

Far from being a clinical, cold treatise on racial and gender politics, however, Go For Sisters wraps everything in the guise of a cracking-good crime/mystery/thriller. Like his similar Lone Star (1996), Sayles wraps everything around a pretty good mystery: it’s no Chinatown (1974) but there are plenty of satisfying twists and turns, along with some truly kickass action scenes. The bit where Fontayne turns an empty liquor bottle into a “gun” is a classic (“I always carry a Colt .45 with me”) and Bernice projects nothing but fire and grit.

While the filmmaking is typically great (in particular, cinematographer Kathryn Westergaard puts some truly stunning visuals up on the screen, particularly once the action moves south of the border), the acting is a true thing of beauty. LisaGay Hamilton and Yolonda Ross are absolutely perfect as the former/current best-friends: their relationship never feels anything less than completely genuine, including their halting “getting to know you again” time. Anyone who’s ever fallen out with and then reconnected with a dear friend should certainly recognize more than a few beats here. As previously mentioned, Bernice and Fontayne are completely awesome, ass-kicking protagonists, the kind that any film would be proud to host and much credit must be due the flawless performance.

Just as good, for different reasons, is Edward James Olmos’ portrayal of the kindly bounty hunter: Olmos is, without a doubt, one of our most storied actors and there’s something truly cool about seeing him play such an unflappable, badass individual. Like something out of an old spaghetti Western, Olmo’s Freddy Suarez is a polite, well-spoken, barely contained tornado: “You musta been some hot shit behind that badge, Freddy,” Fontayne praises him, at one point. Freddy smiles and replies, “They called me The Terminator” and there’s absolutely no way we don’t believe him.

Ultimately, Go For Sisters is the kind of unflashy, old-fashioned, character-driven film that will probably seem like a museum fossil in this day and age. Tightly written, expertly crafted, beautifully shot, wildly entertaining…pretty much just what you should expect from a John Sayles film. If you’ve always been a fan, Go For Sisters is going to be another jewel in a long, illustrious career. If you’re new to the simple majesty of this master storyteller, strap yourself in and prepare yourself for one hell of an experience. It’s tempting to say that the master’s back but here’s the thing: he never went anywhere in the first place.