4/25/15: The Fixer-Upper From Hell

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Adam Thomas Wright, Altar, Antonia Clarke, British films, British horror, children in peril, cinema, film reviews, films, ghost whisperer, ghosts, haunted house, haunted houses, hidden mosaics, home renovations, horror, horror film, horror films, horror movies, husband-wife relationship, isolated estates, isolation, Jan Richter-Friis, Jonathan Jaynes, Matthew Modine, Movies, Nick Willing, Olivia Williams, parent-child relationships, possession, Rebecca Calder, Satanic rituals, set in England, sins of the past, Stephen Chance, Steve Oram, supernatural, twist ending, UK films, writer-director

If we go by the conventions of horror films, one of the single most dangerous occupations out there is home renovation. Sure, law enforcement, fire fighting and high-rise window-washing might seem more dangerous, at least on paper, but we know the truth: anytime someone tries to fix up a creepy, old, decaying country estate, there’s a roughly 90% chance of something terrible happening. If those were Vegas odds, Sin City would have gone the way of the dodo generations ago.

Writer-director Nick Willing’s Altar (2014) is but the latest in a long line of haunted house films precipitated on the above notion: a family moves into a creepy, isolated country manor in order to renovate it, runs into long-buried secrets and ghostly presences and must survive the sinister residence’s sustained assaults upon their persons and psyches. In this case, Meg Hamilton (Olivia Williams) is the renovator who, along with her artist husband Alec (Matthew Modine) and children, Penny (Antonia Clarke) and Harper (Adam Thomas Wright), move into the creepy abode. Faster than you can say “Jack and Wendy Torrance,” the family are dealing with ghostly manifestations, Alec’s obsession with suddenly crafting a life-like clay figure and Meg’s discovery of a strange, vaguely pagan floor mosaic. If you guessed that “possession” factors into the proceedings, you’d be right but Willing has a few tricks up his sleeve that help take Altar in a slightly different (even if barely so) direction from the rest of the herd.

As far as atmosphere and location go, Altar is strictly top-notch: there’s a genuine sense of foreboding that lingers over every scene, thanks in large part to the exceptionally creepy location. Quite simply, Radcliffe House is the kind of evil, Gothic edifice that can make or break a haunted house film: in this case, it goes an awful long way in stocking up good will for the (occasionally) rough going. Willing goes light on the obvious jump scares, allowing for the whole thing to feel much more organic and old-fashioned than similar films (obnoxiously loud musical stingers are, thankfully, few and far between) and cinematographer Jan Richter-Friis’ camera-work helps to subtly play up the creep-factor.

The acting is uniformly good, which is another important factor in this kind of film: when a movie relies on mood and atmosphere, nothing spoils the party quite as effectively as over-the-top, amateurish or stilted acting. Williams is excellent as the mother/renovator: her extremely expressive face always seems to be reflecting some new measure of fresh horror, amping the psychological horror to an almost unbearable level. Modine, who’s had an almost ridiculously varied career over the past 30+ years, doesn’t fare quite as well as Williams does, mostly because his character is saddled with a few more eye-rolling traits than hers is. That being said, Modine and Williams have good chemistry together: until things go completely off the rails, it’s easy to imagine these two as a (once) loving couple, which is certainly more than you can say for many horror film duos. As the beleaguered children, Clarke and Wright are quite good, although they don’t get quite as much to do as their parents: at the very least, neither one wears out their welcome which, again, is more than you can say for many young actors in horror productions.

If anything really lets the air out of Altar’s sails, it’s definitely the hum-drum, overly clichéd ending: while the plot has plenty of holes (especially in the later going), the film manages to glide over most of them pretty effortlessly until it crashes headfirst into the chasm that is the film’s final “revelation.” While I wouldn’t dream of ruining the ending (perhaps because I understand it so imperfectly), suffice to say that faithful genre devotees will have seen this exact same thing done many, many times in the past…and done much better and much clearer, might I add. It’s a pity, really, since the film has some fairly intriguing ideas about transmogrification that are completely lost in the muddle. However unique the film begins, it ends in territory that is, to be kind, well-worn.

Ultimately, Altar is a good, if not great, entry in the crowded “family in peril” subgenre of horror films. When the atmosphere and mood are allowed to develop at their own measured, glacial pace, Willing’s film stands tall above the pretenders, buoyed by its own sense of stately grandeur. When the film becomes overly familiar and middle-of-the-road, however, it sinks right back into the teeming masses, indistinguishable from any one of two dozen other similar films.

12/25/14 (Part Two): Listen All of Y’all, It’s a…Mess

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action film, action films, Arnold Schwarzenegger, cinema, co-writers, corrupt law enforcement, David Ayer, DEA agents, drug cartel, drug dealers, dumb films, End of Watch, film reviews, films, hambonin', Harold Perrineau, Jerry Bruckheimer, Joe Manganiello, Josh Holloway, Kevin Vance, Mark Schlegel, Martin Donovan, Max Martini, Mireille Enos, Movies, Olivia Williams, Sabotage, Sam Worthington, stolen money, Terrence Howard, writer-director-producer

When we’re talking about action films, there isn’t necessarily anything bad about loud, dumb movies: as someone who worked his way through a veritable mountain of cheesetastic ’80s flicks (picture the ones where the hero takes out the bad guy with a close-range rocket launcher to get the full effect), I can attest that the stupidest films are, quite often, the most thrilling. After all, when we’re bombarded by so much chaos, conflict and real-world violence, sometimes it’s nice to just pop the cap on a cold one, turn off your brain and thrill to explosions, sneered badassitude and black-and-white concepts of good and evil, no?

There is, however, a limit, a tipping point, if you will: invisible to the naked eye, there is, nonetheless, a fine line between stupid and clever (thanks, Tap). David Ayer’s big, loud, Schwarzenegger vehicle, Sabotage (2014), has to see the line, since the whole film seems like a conscious effort to craft the biggest, dumbest, loudest action film possible: the film’s mantra seems to be “bigger is always better” and let me tell ya…this film ends up riding a giant, turbo-charged rocket straight into the heart of stupid, boldly going where few have dared to tread. Existing in a cinematic universe where Antoine Fuqua and Jerry Bruckheimer are the alpha and omega of existence, Sabotage is the ultimate fizzled bonfire: all smoke, precious little actual fire.

Sabotage concerns the various (very bad) activities of a group of rogue DEA agents, the kind that are de rigueur for Hollywood but don’t really paint the rosiest picture of our nation’s continued war on drugs. Led by the leather-faced, oddly-coiffed John “Breacher” Wharton (Arnold Schwarzenegger), the crew look (and sound) like various rejects from several seasons of American Gladiator: Monster (Sam Worthington), Grinder (Joe Manganiello), Neck (Josh Holloway), Sugar (Terrence Howard), Pyro (Max Martini), Tripod (Kevin Vance), Smoke (Mark Schlegel) and Lizzy (Mireille Enos, so amazingly over-the-top that she doesn’t need a cool nickname…she just “is,” dude). Their modus operandi is pretty simple: blow the ever-loving shit out of the bad guys, steal their money, blow up as much stuff as possible, get fuckin’ craaaazy, man…lather, rinse, repeat. It all works splendidly because, well, they’re badasses, man…aren’t you listening?

A fly enters the ointment, however, when one of their “jobs” results in the death of Smoke and the loss of $10 million in stolen drug money. The crew start falling out because agitated shouting is required (along with some good, ol’ character building, don’tcha know?) and, as we all know, you can’t trust a thief…especially if you’re a crooked, bloodthirsty fellow thief, I’m imagining. Things really get complicated, however, when members of the squad start to mysteriously die, one by one. When one guy wakes up to find his RV on the railroad, moments before impact, local police think it could possibly be a case of too much spiked eggnog. After lead detective Carolyn Brentwood (Olivia Williams) slips in a slick of blood the size of Michigan when her and Breacher go to interview another team member, however, her spidey sense is definitely tingling: when she looks up and sees the poor guy nailed to the ceiling, eviscerated, she definitely begins to think that these may be more than simple household accidents.

Working with the overly cagey, withdrawn Breacher, Brentwood tries to gather information from the others, yet meets with nothing but cold resistance: the troops have circled the wagons and no strangers are getting through. As more and more of his squad end up dead, however, Breacher is suddenly faced with the shocking idea that the killer may not be a cartel hitman…it may be someone a little closer to home…dun dun duuunh!

Alright, here’s the thing: I was more than willing to give Sabotage as much slack as it needed, mostly because I was duly impressed with director Ayer’s previous effort, the Jake Gyllenhaal-starring End of Watch (2012). I was able to look past the film’s overly kinetic, restless action sequences, even when said restlessness began to extend into non-action, “quiet” parts of the film. I didn’t care for the shaky camera or odd, overly-saturated color palette but I’d seen plenty worse. I didn’t really even mind the on-the-nose, endlessly posturing dialogue: you have to expect a certain measure of shit-talking in films like this, after all, and who doesn’t love a badass ass-kicker?

At a certain point, however, all of Sabotage’s dead weight ends up dragging the film straight to Davy Jones’ locker, my patience be damned. Perhaps it was the unbelievably douchy scene where Brentwood comes by to speak to the crew during a pool party and the whole thing devolves into ridiculous chest-thumping and frat-boy innuendos: I can’t tell you how bad I wanted to slap the fucking smirk straight off Joe Manganiello’s dumb mug right about the time he got up in the detective’s face and started hambonin’ her (thanks, Regular Show). Maybe it was the insultingly obnoxious “banter” between Brentwood and her partner, Jackson (Harold Perrineau), scenes which reminded me of the cringingly bad interplay between Jay Leno and his ever-suffering band-leader, Kevin Eubanks. Perhaps it was the climatic chase scene that involved one of the characters blasting away at the good guys from a car trunk, chewing and swallowing so much scenery that you can feel the film’s world unraveling from the massive gravitational pull of it all.

One thing’s for certain, however: the acting on display here does no one any favors. Schwarzenegger comes off the best, unsurprisingly, although that damned dead marmot on his head makes it patently impossible to take him completely seriously. His world-weary, “I’m too old for this” schtick actually works, much of the time, and he even gets a few “relatively” reflective moments to do a little modest acting…nothing that will make folks forget his glory days, mind you, but a decent enough continuation of his un-retirement. Other than that relative high point, however, the rest of the cast is pretty much a wash. While all of them are patently ridiculous, I must reserve a special amount of scorn for Enos and Manganiello: at no point in the film are either character anything approaching realistic, likable or even interesting…they’re just unbelievably loud, crude, obnoxious and rather hateful little cliches (Manganiello the huge, unstoppable Cro-Magnon, Enos the “tough chick with bigger balls than the whole combined crew”). As someone who’s a huge fan of Enos’ work on the cable series The Killing, I must admit to being completely flabbergasted by her film work: her previous performance, in Devil’s Knot (2013), was pretty awful but her work as Lizzy vaults her into a whole new realm of terribleness. If the only requirement for portraying a badass character is to shout til your veins pop, Enos’ Lizzy is our new gold standard.

And there, in a nutshell, is pretty much Sabotage’s problem: it’s a thoroughly average action film that’s completely undone by the constantly shifting tone, terrible characters/acting and patently ridiculous situations. One of the most puzzling aspects of the film, for me, was the way in which it almost seemed to have a foot in the horror world: between the splattery aftermath of the great train kapow and the evisceration scene that’s fully Hannibal Lecter approved, Sabotage often feels like a slasher film in action clothing, ala No One Lives (2012). While the gore is well done, it also feels completely out-of-place, similar to how the occasionally intentional comic beats fail miserably.

Despite how it sounds, I didn’t hate Sabotage, although I will freely admit to hating many of the performances. Rather, the film reminded me of any number of bottom-of-the-barrel actioners that I used to gorge myself on during rainy weekends as a kid. Without all of the critical injuries, I don’t see any reason why Ayer’s film couldn’t limp into the finish line. As it stands, however, I can’t help but feel that someone should have done the noble thing and just taken it out in the field to be shot, instead.

4/4/14: So Close But So Very Far Away

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astronauts, based on a short story, Captain Brunel, cinema, Danny Boyle, Elias Koteas, fear of the unknown, film reviews, films, flawed films, good but not great films, Goran Kostic, horror films, infections, Johnny Harris, Liew Schreiber, Marko, Mars, Mars expedition, Mars exploration, Movies, Nightmare City, Olivia Williams, outer space, Patrick Joseph Byrnes, Red Planet, resurrection, Romola Garai, Ruairi Robinson, sci-fi, space exploration, space station, stranded in space, The Last Days on Mars, Tom Cullen, Vincent Campbell, Yusra Warsama, zombies

If the human animal has one fault (and it has at least one, trust me), it would be that we can never seem to leave well-enough alone. Like the greedy dog with a bone in Aesop’s Fables, we’re constantly reaching out for just one more of anything, a little bit more of everything. Gamblers seldom walk away with they’re on top…game show contestants never take the guaranteed winnings…pressing our luck, it would seem, is just as much a human trait as breathing air. This isn’t always a bad thing, of course: without straining against the bonds of our world-view, we would never grow as a species. Sometimes, however, we have a tendency to push a little too far…peek under one dark rock too many, as it were. As the new sci-fi/horror film The Last Days on Mars demonstrates, it can sometimes be in our best interests to simply let our minds wander, denying ourselves the assurance that we know what lurks under every stone and in every nook and cranny. Sometimes, we really would rather not know.

Our film begins on the titular red planet, during the final 19 hours of a six-month mission. The assorted cosmonauts are our usual varied group of folks tossed into your average stressful situation: Vincent Campbell (Liev Shreiber) serves as our defacto protagonist, while Captain Brunel (Elias Koteas) fills the role of “gruff but fair” crew leader. Rounding out the merry bunch are Kim (Olivia Williams), Marko (Goran Kostic), Harrington (Tom Cullen), Dalby (Yusra Warsama), Rebecca Lane (Romola Garai) and Irwin (Johnny Harris). As in all sci-fi/horror films, there are some inherent tensions among the crew members, most notably between Vincent and Kim. This will, of course, allow for ample dramatic moments once the shit hits the fan. And the shit will, indeed, hit the fan.

Said fan becomes adorned when Marko heads out to, ostensibly, repair a nearby sensor. In reality, he’s decided to go check out a crater site that just may contain the first, honest-to-God, evidence of bacterial life in space. Everyone else is a little concerned by Marko’s rash decision and they should be: haven’t any of these yahoos ever seen Alien? In short order, a sudden earthquake has helped Marko shuffle off his mortal coil, leaving one dead crew member at the bottom of a newly opened hole in the ground. Captain Brunel orders that Marko’s body be recovered, despite the inherent danger of sending more crew members into imminent peril. During the recovery mission, Vincent descends into the hole and gets a good look at the new life-form, which appears to be some sort of intelligent moss. He has a panic attack, which includes flash-backs to some sort of prior trauma, and beats feet back for home base. On the way, he notices a set of footprints leading from the hole to home base…and Marko’s body is nowhere to be found.

As can be expected (unless one has never seen another sci-fi/horror film, of course), something evil has come back from the mysterious hole and is proceeding to bulldoze through the crew members, one by one. Ultimately, the film turns into a sort of live-action version of Dead Space, as Vincent and the dwindling survivors must fight back against some very violent local flora (or would it be fauna?), all with the added threat of Earth’s impending doom hovering over everything. Will Vincent save the day? Will anyone be left alive? Will we figure out just what, exactly, was in the hole?

In many ways, The Last Days on Mars is a tale of two films: one film (the much more interesting one) is another of the recent spate of “intelligent sci-fi/space exploration” films, which includes movies like Red Planet (2000), Moon (2009), Apollo 18 (2011), and Europa Report (2013). The other film is yet another zombie movie, albeit one in which they rush around and use weapons, ala Umberto Lenzi’s trashy Nightmare City (1980). Needless to say, after almost 30 years of watching horror films, I’m a little burnt out on zombie pics, particularly ones which don’t bring much new to the table. In a nutshell, this split focus becomes my biggest problem with The Last Days on Mars: the slow-paced, creepy sci-fi story is so much more interesting than the fast-paced, zombie-action film that we end up with. This is a classic example of a film having a great concept but stumbling in so many other ways.

While the film has plenty of genuinely creepy moments (the opening sequence is flawless and Vincent’s descent into the mysterious hole is thoroughly nail-biting), the tonal shift to an action film wrecks the mood. To compound the issue, the action scenes aren’t even particularly well-staged, being far too kinetic and with absolutely no sense of spectator POV or camera placement: any action sequence devolves into a mindless blur of noise and motion, communicating nothing so much as perpetual motion. Contrasting The Last Days on Mars’ action sequences with David Twohy’s far superior Pitch Black (2000), it becomes painfully obvious that the action really holds the former film back. Way back.

In a way, this is too bad because there’s a truly intriguing skeleton buried under the misshapen muscles and nerves of this fleshy beast. The overall story, about the mysterious moss, is really strong and reminded me of something out of Bradbury: the film is actually based on a short story by prolific sci-fi/horror writer Sydney J. Bounds and the source-material is great. Schreiber is a commanding presence throughout, always portraying Vincent is as real a way as possible. Over time, Schreiber has turned into quite an exceptional actor, although I do find myself wishing he would test-drive more genre fare like this. He receives able support from a decent supporting cast, although no one else really stands out (although Johnny Harris certainly tries, as the rather villainous Irwin). Likewise, the film’s look and sound design is capable but nothing special, with the exception of some nicely done shots of Mars.

Ultimately, I found myself with one nearly heretical thought after the movie was over: this would have been a much better film if Danny Boyle had made it. I normally don’t traffic in or endorse remakes but I just couldn’t shake that thought from my head. Even though I think Boyle’s Sunshine (2007) was a fabulous disaster, he seems to be much more capable of handling this type of sci-fi/horror mash-up than director Ruairi Robinson is and I can’t help but wonder what a surer hand might have made of this.

In the end, The Last Days on Mars is a thoroughly competent but flawed film. The tone was often inconsistent and weird, while the action sequences were way too spastic and clumsy. The acting was pretty good, however, and the overall story is very strong, even if it gets abandoned a bit by the film’s final third. Fans of sci-fi/horror films, particularly more recent ones, will definitely want to check this out. Don’t go in expecting another Alien (or even Red Planet, for that matter) and you should find this to be enjoyable but a little forgettable. That being said, I’m already ready for Hollywood’s next trip to the stars.