7/12/15: The Sleep of Reason

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bad fathers, Benjamin Shielden, Catriona MacColl, cinema, co-writers, Dario Argento, dream imagery, dream research, dream-like, dysfunctional family, Emmanuel Bonami, family secrets, feature-film debut, film reviews, films, foreign films, French cinema, French films, Fu'ad Aït Aattou, Gala Besson, horror, horror films, horror-fantasy, Horsehead, Joe Sheridan, Karim Chériguène, keys, Lilly-Fleur Pointeaux, lucid dreaming, lush, mother-daughter relationships, Movies, multiple writers, Murray Head, Nightmare on Elm St., nightmares, Romain Basset, step-father, supernatural, surreal, Vernon Dobtcheff, Vincent Vieillard-Baron, visually stunning, writer-director

In many ways, writer-director Romain Basset’s feature debut, Horsehead (2014), is as strange a creation as its titular demonic figurehead: both too nonsensical to conform to standard cinematic narratives and not gonzo enough to properly pay homage to the surreal, Italo-gore films that are its obvious influence, the film is lush, visually stunning and stuck in a bit of a no-man’s-land. When the film’s visuals and atmosphere mesh, Basset comes dangerously close to approximating the fever dream insanity of vintage Argento: something like A Nightmare on Elm Street (1984) jammed sideways into Inferno (1980), if you will. When the film leans hard into actual plot mechanics, however, it tends to collapse into a bit of a chaotic mess, favoring complex backstory over actual emotional impact.

Jessica (Lilly-Fleur Pointeaux), our plucky heroine, has been plagued by terrible nightmares of a terrifying, horse-headed demon for the majority of her life. After her grandmother Rose (Gala Besson) dies, Jessica returns to her childhood home for the funeral. Like many horror film heroes, Jessica has a difficult history with her stern, disapproving mother, Catelyn (Lucio Fulci mainstay Catriona MacColl), although she gets along great with her cheerful, ultra-supportive step-dad, Jim (Murray Head). Returning to her old stomping grounds for the first time in years, Jessica and her mom immediately get to butting heads, all while Jim and faithful servant, George (Vernon Dobtcheff), try to run interference.

Once she gets “home,” however, Jessica immediately starts to have strange dreams about her grandmother, dreams in which a younger version of Rose frantically looks for some sort of key. A sinister preacher (Fu’ad Aït Aattou) also pops up in her dreams and he seems to be pursuing Rose, for some undisclosed reason: we know he’s evil, however, because he has one of those patented “totally, completely evil” voices…always a handy indicator. She also continues to see the menacing Horsehead, the towering, monstrous presence from her youth that’s pursued her in her slumber for decades.

Using a handy bottle of ether and some of that “take control of your dreams” advice that all the kids on Elm Street receive, Jessica proceeds to explore the phantasmagoric world of her dreams, attempting to figure out the connection between the creepy priest, Horsehead, her grandmother and that damned missing key. Jessica will have to be careful, however: if Horsehead gets a hold of her while she’s dreaming, it might spell the end of her in the “real world,” as well.

Similar to Rob Zombie’s recent The Lords of Salem (2012), Basset’s Horsehead is a very clear nod to the classic ’80s horror fare of Italian gore-maestros like Argento and Fulci: hell, he even casts MacColl, the star of such Fulci standards as City of the Living Dead (1980), House By the Cemetery (1981) and The Beyond (1981), as Jessica’s mother. With its dreamlike atmosphere, brightly colored lighting and emphasis on visuals over logic, it’s pretty easy to draw a through-line straight into the heart of Basset’s little opus. If you’re going to wear your influences on your sleeve, however, there are certainly worse ones you could pick than Argento or Fulci.

When the emphasis stays on the visuals and vibe, Horsehead works remarkably well: cinematographer Vincent Vieillard-Baron, on only his second full-length feature, produces some staggeringly strange, beautiful imagery, much of which is on a par with the best of Luciano Tovoli’s work in films like Suspiria (1977) and Tenebre (1982). The figure of Horsehead is a genuinely creepy image and certain scenes, like Jessica’s climatic battle with the dream demon, approach del Toro and Tarsem Singh’s level of fastidious attention to detail. Horsehead looks consistently great, with a truly cool sense of Gothic grandeur that befits the more fairy-tale-like aspects of the narrative.

Basset gets good work from a dependable cast: it’s always good to see MacColl and she brings quite a bit of edge to her portrayal of Jessica’s troubled mother, while Pointeaux is a likable, (mostly) reasonable protagonist. As befits the film’s spiritual forebears, some of the performances are a little more over-the-top than others: Fu’ad Aït Aattou’s evil priest and Joe Sheridan’s oddly lecherous doctor are pure comic book, while veteran actor Dobtcheff doesn’t get a whole lot to do as the seemingly superfluous butler/caretaker.

In another parallel with the aforementioned Zombie film, however, Basset’s movie starts to unravel whenever we get thrust down into the actual nitty-grit of the plot. To not put too fine a point on it, Horsehead makes very little sense, even when all of the cards have been laid on the table by the film’s conclusion. This, of course, was a pretty common issue with the films that directly influenced Horsehead: no one ever went into a Fulci or Argento film to focus on the plots, most of which only existed as a rough framework to hang numerous setpieces from. The difference, of course, is that both Fulci and Argento seemed perfectly aware of this and were more than happy to play to their strengths: Basset, unfortunately, tries to have his cake and eat it, too, by turning his film into an extremely plot-heavy, if thoroughly surreal, exercise in combining style and substance.

By the time that Jessica figures out what’s happening, the film has become a morass of missing keys, symbolic imagery, musty old “family secrets” and philosophical concepts masquerading as spook-show imagery. Immaculate conception, stillborn twins, abusive fathers and imaginary churches all make an appearance, although it’s all so much nonsense, at least as far as the actual impact on the story goes. By the time that Jessica is advised to “follow the wolf, not the horse,” I found myself more bemused than anything.

One of the odder aspects of Horsehead ends up being the many parallels between the Nightmare on Elm Street series. From Jessica learning to take control of her dreams, to the “sins of the parents” themes, to Catelyn’s attempt to stop Jessica’s lucid dreaming via some sort of “anti-dreaming” drug, there are times when it definitely feels as if Basset (who co-scripted with Karim Chériguène) is actively trying to kickstart his own version of Wes Craven’s little empire: even the final shot seems to set up a direct, more action-packed sequel, which doesn’t sit comfortably with the film’s headier aspirations.

Despite some fundamental problems, however, Horsehead is still an intriguing, if frustrating, film. Whenever the dream sequences are in full force, it’s hard to deny the intoxicating power of Basset’s imagination: like Singh, he knows how to blend the horrific and fantastic in equal measures, often within the same frame. It’s also encouraging to note that he’s taking inspiration from horror’s forefathers but using it to create his own, new mythology: I’ll take that over another remake/reimagining any day of the week.

For his first full-length, Romain Basset shows a tremendous amount of promise: if he’s able to completely jettison his more traditional narrative impulses and just go with the power of his imagery, I have a feeling that he just might be able to get in the same head=space as his Italian horror heroes. Horsehead isn’t quite a thoroughbred but it’s a damn strong runner: that wins races, too.

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3/25/14: If Wishes Were Horses, They’d Eat Your Face

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Andrew Divoff, Angus Scrimm, cinema, djinn, djinns, film reviews, films, gory films, Greg Nicotero, Harry Manfredini, horror, horror films, horror franchises, horror-fantasy, Kane Hodder, Movies, Nightmare on Elm St., practical effects, Robert Englund, Robert Kurtzman, SFX, special effects, special-effects extravaganza, Stan Winston, Tammy Lauren, Ted Raimi, Tom Savini, Tony Todd, violent, Wes Craven, wishes, Wishmaster

In some ways, I like to equate watching films with eating. Sometimes, I’m really in the mood for a complex, sprawling, four-course meal: at those times, nothing less than the twistiest, most difficult foreign film will do. Other times, I want a good, hearty steak and look towards any of the numerous “classics” that I’ve re-watched enough to memorize the dialogue. There are times when I want a little lighter fare: those are always good opportunities for a music documentary, a slapstick comedy or an old musical. At certain times, however, there’s really nothing that will hit the spot better than junk food: gimme the cinematic equivalent of a Ho-Ho, from time to time, and I’m a happy boy. On those occasions when I want to turn my brain off, kick my feet up and satisfy my horror jones, there really isn’t much finer than the first Wishmaster, a snack-pack of goodness that I’ve been enjoying for nearly 20 years.

Right off the bat, it helps to know one very important thing about Wishmaster: the film series began as the labor of love of Robert Kurtzman, one of the premiere special effects/make-up guys in the industry. Along with Greg Nicotero (any horror fan worth his salt should recognize this name immediately) and Howard Berger, he formed KNB EFX Group in the late ’80s. Naming all of Kurtzman’s projects would require its own separate blog entry but we’ll list a few that folks might recognize: Evil Dead 2, Phantasm 2, From Beyond, Predator, Tremors, Cabin Fever, Misery, Army of Darkness, Pulp Fiction, From Dusk Til Dawn, Scream, Boogie Nights, The Green Mile, Hulk…basically, if it was released in the past 28 years, Kurtzman probably had a hand in the makeup, effects work or both.

As with other directorial efforts by special-effects experts, specifically Stan Winston’s Pumpkinhead and Tom Savini’s remake of Night of the Living Dead, the focus in Wishmaster is squarely on the astoundingly gory, over-the-top special effects, most of which are jaw-dropping…sometimes literally. The nifty hat trick here is that Kurtzman has taken an entirely serviceable idea for a B-horror film and tricked it out with an immaculate, shiny coat of candy-apple-red primer. As mentioned earlier, this is pretty much the epitome of junk food: delicious but nearly devoid of any actual nutrients. Wishmaster is like an amusement-park thrill ride: a blast to sit through but essentially incapable of changing your overall world view.

As far as a story goes, Wishmaster is pretty lean and mean: an opening inter-title explains that there were once men, angels and djinn. The djinn didn’t want to play nice, despite their ability to grant wishes, and were banished to the furthest regions to prevent their complete destruction of humankind, an event which they can bring about simply by granting the same person three separate wishes. Cut to Persia in the 1400s and we see all hell (quite literally) bust loose as a djinn grants a king’s second wish. Before the djinn can grant the king’s third wish and damn humanity to an eternity of servitude, a court magician imprisons the djinn in a gemstone. Cut to the present and a drunken accident at a dock has led to the discovery of the gem: the gem changes hands until it ends up with Alexandra (Tammy Lauren), our spunky heroine. As can be expected, the djinn is eventually released and goes on a wish-granting rampage, all the while trying to get back to Alex: if he can grant her three wishes, mankind can kiss its collected asses goodbye. Will Alex be able to save the world? Will she be forced to use her third wish? Will the djinn help them throw the craziest party in 600 years? As if you had to ask!

Let’s get one thing absolutely clear: Wishmaster will never win any awards for acting or its script but that’s not really why we’re here: we’re here because this thing is a party in a can. Decades before audiences thrilled to “in-on-the-joke” junk like Snakes On a Plane and Sharknado, we all had to make do with good, old-fashioned B-movies, films that took themselves at least seriously enough to avoid winking into oblivion. Wishmaster is a film with plenty of heart (all over the damn place, pretty much) and isn’t so terribly removed from the effects extravaganzas that Harryhausen created back in the day…just with a lot more viscera and exploded rib-cages, of course.

Although the film is jam-packed with eye-popping moments, it’s book-ended by its two biggest, most extravagant set-pieces: the opening Persian bloodbath and Beaumont’s (Robert Englund) climatic cocktail party. Both scenes are chock-full of the kind of explosive effects that would be the centerpiece of any other film: someone turns to crystal and shatters, spraying deadly shrapnel around the room; a skeleton rips itself from a man’s body and stands for a moment, pondering the chaos, before running off to cause some more; a collection of bronze and stone statues depicting warriors from various countries and eras comes to shuddering life, in a scene that directly references Harryhausen’s classic films, and massacres a group of armed mercenaries; someone is cut to pieces by living, levitating piano wires, etc etc…In truth, the two aforementioned scenes actually pack in more amazing special effects moments than at least four lesser horror films combined. Even better, the effects are almost all practical, lending the film yet another point of reference to classic films like Clash of the Titans and The 7th Voyage of Sinbad.

I’ve gone on and on about Wishmaster’s effects but what about the rest of the film? While it’s certainly not An Officer and a Gentleman, Wishmaster ends up being a pretty sturdily constructed affair. The film looks great, with a vibrant color palette that really lets the gore pop off the screen. In a nod to old-school horror fans, Friday the 13th’s Harry Manfredini handles the score and it’s a typically good one, even featuring a few pieces that directly recall the “adventurous” music from the aforementioned Harryhausen films. Wes Craven produced the film and, in many ways, it’s pretty comparable to the latter-day Nightmare on Elm Street films, particularly films like Parts 4 and 5, which tended to be more special-effects showcases than the earlier entries. The djinn even gets a massively ooky regeneration scene that manages to give both NOES and Hellraiser a run for their collective money.

The acting, as can be expected from B-movies, is rather hit or miss. Andrew Divoff is a complete revelation as the djinn, playing the villain with just the proper amount of smarmy charm, deadpan sarcasm and dead-eyed seriousness. His quipping never really gets old (although it will get more tedious over the next few films in the series) and I’m constantly surprised that he never became a more prominent face in the horror world, similar to co-star Robert Englund. Englund is quite good as the slimy Raymond Beaumont and it’s also nice to get cameos from a couple other familiar faces: Candyman’s Tony Todd and original Jason Kane Hodder make appearances as a bouncer and security guard, respectively. They don’t get to do much but it’s still nice to see them.

More problematic, unfortunately, is Tammy Lauren. As the lead, we get to spend an awful lot of time with Lauren and her progressively hysterical performance makes this a bit unpleasant, after a while. She’s alright for the first half of the film or so but she sets the controls for the heart of the sun after that and her overacting even begins to compete with the special effects, after a while. A lesser, but still noteworthy, issue is the rather lackluster ending: while necessary to paint the film out of its corner, it comes across as a real head-smacker and more than a little uneventful.

If you can look past the film’s small handful of problems, however, I can see absolutely no reason why any horror fan wouldn’t love this movie. Here, at the very beginning, we saw the groundwork being laid for a franchise that had the potential to rival Elm Street for prime real estate on the horror map. If the series ended up dropping the ball and limping off the sidelines way too soon (Part 2 is merely okay, whereas Parts 3 and 4 are completely execrable), that does nothing to take away from the achievement of this first edition.

Sometimes, I just want to kick back with an old friend and kill 90 minutes: whenever Wishmaster comes knocking at the door, I’m always ready to party.

1/2/14: Die Laughing

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bratty kids, Conor McMahon, horror, horror films, Irish films, killer clowns, Nightmare on Elm St., Ross Noble, Shakes the Clown, Stitches, UK films, villain

The first part of today’s installment will feature half of last night’s double-header: Stitches. Since I’ve got quite a few words to say about Stitches, we’ll handle A Lonely Place to Die in another post. On to the show!

Without a shadow of a doubt, Stitches is the single best Nightmare on Elm St. film since Part 3: The Dream Warriors. This may, of course, seem a little odd, since Stitches is clearly not related in any way, shape or form to Wes Craven’s seminal franchise. Upon closer examination, however, there are a few more similarities.

I’ve always loved the NOES series: it’s probably my favorite horror series (the Halloween franchise is way too hit/miss and I’ve always preferred Freddy to Jason) but I’ll be the first to admit its faults. After debuting with a serious effort, the series gradually became campier, with more of an emphasis on pop culture references (“You forgot the Power Glove!” being a chief offender), zany deaths and Freddy’s increasingly Henny Youngman-esque one-liners. The transition to camp was pretty much solidified by Part 5, with Part 6 being so over-the-top that it even featured Alice Cooper and Roseanne Barr. For a very short time, however, the series managed to get the tone absolutely perfect, with The Dream Warriors being (in my mind) the quintessential NOES film.

What made Part 3 work so well? In short, the synthesis between the scares and laughs was pitch-perfect. Freddy drops wisecracks but he’s still a seriously scary dude by this point. He hasn’t assumed the mantle of stand-up comedian yet and is very much a smug, sarcastic, nasty bastard (literally). The group of kids involved may still be ’80s cliches but they’re vibrant ones, clearly individuals and easy to like. The kills are also some of the most inventive in the series (the human marionette will go down as my favorite moment in the entire series, closely followed by the Freddy snake) and the effects work is astounding, especially considering the late ’80s glut of big effects bonanzas. In my mind, although the franchise remained entertaining, it never topped the third entry (the 4th is pretty good, to be honest, and I always enjoy the 5th, camp be damned).

Stitches, then, becomes the best NOES film since Part 3 by taking all the best elements of that film and running with them. The film begins with a tone that reminds one of the crude blue-collar humor of Edgar Wright before swinging easily into something that could best be described as a UK version of Scream with a greater emphasis on the interpersonal dynamics. The kids in Stitches are cliches, of course, but they’re not lazy ones. Each character takes their prescribed quirks and tics and incorporates them into something that actually feels like a real teenager. Shocking! You’re not supposed to like most of these kids (in fact, aside from the hero, most of them are complete assholes) but they feel so real that you can’t help but feel something when they die. And die they do.

You see, where Stitches really assumes the NOES crown is where it counts: the bad guy. A horror franchise is, literally, only as strong as its chief antagonist. Make them memorable enough (Freddy, Jason, Michael, Chucky) and they enter the cultural vernacular, becoming as much a part of the pop landscape as any celebrity. Make them too generic (any of at least a thousand slashers in the ’80s-’90s) and they sink beneath the masses of similar product. Stitches, the killer clown, is probably the best modern horror antagonist since Freddy was created.

As portrayed by Ross Noble, Stitches is spiritual kin to Bobcat’s repugnant Shakes the Clown. Hard drinking, as unhygienic as possible and obnoxious to the core (in response to a mother’s statement that he’s late to her child’s birthday party, Stitches replies, “And you’re fooking ugly. Just kidding.” before honking his lapel flower at her), he’s probably the last person you would want around your kids.

But these kids, man…these kids. The party is full of brats, a prank is pulled, Stitches accidentally ends up with a butcher knife in his head and the birthday boy is scarred for life. But, as a bizarre clown elder tells the hero (in one of the films coolest, weirdest sequences, akin to something by either Jodorowski or de la Iglesia), any clown that doesn’t finish a birthday party can never rest. And a joke is never as funny the second time around.

Stitches returns from the grave, six years later, to exact revenge against the now teenage brats. At this point, the film pulls its most glorious hat-trick of all. When Stitches returns, he’s not quite the scuzzy drunkard from the beginning. Noble has modulated his performance, slowed Stitches down a bit and, in the process, creates a classic performance. His line delivery recalls an even droller, drier Freddy Krueger and, to be honest, I could have easily done with more of him. The balance between chills and laughs is perfect, especially with the killer clown’s look being akin to King Buzzo in facepaint.

And those kills. My, oh my…those kills. Imagine a live-action version of an Itchy and Scratchy Show episode. I was originally going to use Wile E. Coyote and the Roadrunner as an example but, to be honest, those really don’t even come close to this film. Suffice to say that the kills in Stitches are absolutely brilliant, perhaps the best looking gore effects since the original Hatchet and the most ambitious, energetic set-pieces since the glory days of Dario Argento. All of the deaths involve an ironic clown angle (of course) but move in such genuinely fresh and daring directions that it’s exhilarating to watch. I will say that, even almost 30 years into my horror film viewing, there was some pretty shocking violence here. Played for laughs, perhaps, but way past the vast majority of mainstream horror offerings.

Since saying too much about any of them can spoil some very big thrills, I’ll keep rather mum on the specifics but I will say that there was one particular scene that set a bar so high that most other films can’t even see it. The scene involves an ice-cream scoop, a can opener and the cheestastic anthem “(I Just) Died in Your Arms Tonight,” ending with Stitches holding his victim in approximation of the Pieta, complete with a sadly wistful look on his grease-painted face. If you’re the kind of horror fan that can name every kill in Jason X, the kills in Stitches will probably take top honors on your list.

But are inventive kills really what make a horror film? Of course not. However, inventive kills, a great villain, exciting set-pieces, intelligent humor, astounding practical effects, good acting, a rich and deep backstory (all of the stuff about the clown council and the creepy clown crypt is so damn good that I really wish there was more) and a complete and overriding sense of fun are certainly what make a great horror film. Even better, the film ends with a fantastic set-up for a sequel (the tag is actually so clever that I hope it buries that stupid “one last jump scare before the credits roll” bullshit forever), one that I hope comes to more fruition than Buckaroo Banzai vs The World Crime League.

In short, Stitches is not only a great horror film but it’s a great film, period. It may be campy but it’s never stupid: this was a film made by people who obviously love films and are passionate about them. This passion comes through loud and clear, providing what was, for me, the most fun horror film I’ve seen in years. Had I seen this earlier, Stitches would have easily made my Best of 2013 list. To be honest, maybe that list already needs some revision.