12/26/14 (Part Four): Letting the Idiots Speak

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actor-director, animal masks, Boris Mojsovski, children in peril, cinema, co-writers, disappointing films, dysfunctional family, father-son relationships, film reviews, films, horror, horror movies, isolated estates, isolation, Jordan Barker, Katherine Isabelle, masked intruders, Michael Foster, Movies, Peter DaCunha, Robin Dunne, Stephen McHattie, stepmother, Thomas Pound, thriller, Torment

For roughly the first half of Jordan Barker’s Torment (2013), all signs point to an above-average little chiller: effectively shot, tense and extremely atmospheric, this little “family in peril” flick doesn’t break a lot of new ground but it ferociously stakes claim to the terra firma that’s already there. Creepy, relentless and with an absolutely ruthless sense of forward momentum, Torment (at first) seems like it’ll be one of those “horror sleepers” that worms its way into my sub-conscious, complete with some very eerie, animal-mask-bedecked baddies…again, not original but highly effective, nonetheless. But then, unfortunately, something rather terrible happens, something that cuts the legs out from under the film and leaves it to die a slow, miserable, humiliating death, flopping around and about like that poor fish from Faith No More’s “Epic” video: the creepy, masked bad guys speak and the whole thing heads straight to Hell in the proverbial hand-basket.

Until the film manages to completely squander all of its accumulated good will, there’s actually quite a bit to like here. The central story, about a pair of newlyweds who vacation in the country with the husband’s extremely difficult son (from his first marriage) opens up some nice avenues for drama: there’s a genuine sense of tension between bratty Liam (Peter DaCunha) and his trying-too-hard stepmother, Sarah (Katherine Isabelle), and a few quietly astute observations about the ways in which step-parents and their families interact. The familial relationship feels fairly authentic (in particular, you really feel for poor Sarah’s attempts to bond with her step-son) and none of the acting gets in the way.

From a horror level, Torment’s first half is a real slow-burn that still manages to include some fairly nasty, abrupt violence, including a very memorable scene involving some sharp garden shears and an astoundingly creepy shot involving shadowy figures in the basement (to be honest, one of the creepiest shots of the year: bravo!). There are some really tense action setpieces, including a marvelously executed cat-and-mouse chase involving Sarah and the masked baddies. Hell, Stephen McHattie even shows up as the lackadaisical sheriff and that’s always a good thing.

Once the film hits the midpoint and decides to let the masked intruders talk, however, the whole thing instantly collapses like a castle made of wet tissue paper. Gone is the tension, mystery and atmosphere, replaced by some of the most tedious, obnoxious and straight-up stupid “tough guy” talk this side of a dinner-theater production of Glengarry Glen Ross. The question of whether to have your masked bad guy speak is always a tough one: in most cases, any mood and mystery goes right out the window as soon as any formerly “strong and silent”-type tests the mic and Torment is absolutely no exception. Suffice to say, that my burning interest in the film was almost instantly doused and the resulting 40 minutes became as awkward, terrible and stupid as the first 40 minutes were effective and chilling.

Hard to pinpoint exactly where to lay the most blame here, but I’ll go ahead and toss a heaping helping of scorn onto the film’s two scribes (that’s right, two screenwriters for this drivel), mostly because the dialogue in the latter half of the film is so painfully stupid and contrived as to stick out like a neon sign. The whole thing ends with an obvious setup for a sequel, which, of course, begs one enormous question: who in the hell wants seconds from this particularly rancid smorgasbord?

Ultimately, Torment is that most terrible of films, at least for me: a scrappy little coulda-woulda-shoulda contenda that ends up as just another cauliflower-eared, empty-headed palooka. There’s plenty of potential here but precious little follow-through: “Torment” might not accurately reflect one’s experience with Barker’s film but I’m wagering the more accurate title wouldn’t have looked as good on the box art: “Tedium.”

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10/24/14 (Part Three): I Am the Ghost That Haunts My Halls

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31 Days of Halloween, Abigail Breslin, auteur theory, Canadian films, cinema, Cube, David Hewlett, Eleanor Zichy, Film auteurs, film reviews, films, ghosts, Groundhog Day, haunted houses, Haunter, Martine Campbell, Michelle Nolden, Movies, Nightmare on Elm Street, Peter DaCunha, Peter Outerbridge, Samantha Weinstein, Sarah Manninen, serial killers, Splice, Stephen McHattie, The Frighteners, The Lovely Bones, The Others, time loops, Vincenzo Natali

For a time, it seemed like writer-director Vincenzo Natali’s most recent full-length film, Haunter (2013), would be the first one of his movies to really disappoint me. Between the too on-the-nose title, a description that reads like a mash-up between The Others (2001) and Groundhog Day (1993) and a narrative thrust that parallels Peter Jackson’s The Lovely Bones (2009) to an uncomfortable degree, everything about Haunter felt clichéd and old-hat from the jump. But then, as often happens with Natali’s films, something really interesting happened: just when the film seemed doomed to follow its familiar path to an all-too familiar end, Natali pulls the rug out from underneath us, sending the film into some truly inspired, fascinating directions. By the fist-raising conclusion, one fact seems all too clear: count Natali out at your own peril, since this guy is the king of the 11th hour comeback.

From the on-set, there’s absolutely nothing special or original about Haunter in any way, shape or form: a decent enough credit sequence featuring CGI butterflies in jars leads to an opening scene between Lisa (Abigail Breslin) and her mother, Carol (Michelle Nolden), that makes it explicitly clear that we’re watching a variation on The Others. Despite what her mother and father (Peter Outerbridge) tell her, Lisa is positive that her family is caught in a loop of sorts, ala Groundhog Day. She figures this out due to the fact that it’s been the day before her birthday for, like, ever, which seems like a decidedly good clue. Lisa also seems to catch hints of mysterious forms, shapes and noises around her, ala The Others, including a bewitching snippet of music from Peter and the Wolf that appears to come from the ventilation grates.

One day, while exploring her house, Lisa comes upon a small, locked wooden door in the laundry room, similar to something out of Alice in Wonderland. As she continues to explore, Lisa tries to make subtle changes to her routine, changes when end up subtly altering key moments of her daily “loop.” More importantly, however, Lisa altered routine appears to put her in touch with two mysterious presences: Olivia (Eleanor Zichy), another young killer who appears to be in a different time than Lisa and Edgar Mullins (Stephen McHattie), a sinister, obviously villainous “repairman” who seems to know an awful lot about Lisa situation…and who cautions Lisa to mind her own business, lest she open her and her family up for torment the likes of which they’ve never seen. When Lisa persists in her investigations, however, she realizes that Edgar may be more powerful than he seems, especially once she comes down for dinner and sees that her young brother’s imaginary friend is now visible…and sounds an awful lot like Edgar.

Soon, Lisa is trapped in a life-or-death struggle between mysterious forces, all in an effort to save someone who she doesn’t even know, someone who may or may not even be real. As she gets closer to the truth about her condition and Edgar’s real identity, Lisa will make the ultimate sacrifice in order to right old wrongs and bring peace to the restless dead. Edgar is a canny monster, however, and has no intention of going into that good night without a ferocious battle: as always, the past isn’t quite as easy to overcome as it might seem.

As I mentioned earlier, my initial impressions of Haunter were anything but positive, similar to my initial impression of Natali’s debut, Cube (1997). In this case, Natali’s film seemed to slavishly check comparisons off a list, arriving at something that resembled a greatest-hits jumble of haunted house and time loops clichés. If watching Natali films has taught me anything, however, it’s that initial impressions don’t necessarily mean much: sticking through the familiar aspects, I finally got to that patented tweaking of expectations that he does so well. By the end, not only had Haunter quelled my previous concerns but it kept me rapt and on the edge of my seat all the way the closing credits.

The script is patently solid, another Natali trademark, but the real feather in its cap is an excellent supporting cast, featuring a truly awe-inspiring turn from character actor Stephen McHattie as the villainous Edgar Mullins. While Breslin is great as Lisa, equal parts inquisitive young person and world-weary protector, McHattie is a complete force of nature. It might seem reductive to tell someone to watch a film simply for the “bad guy” but you can make the case with many of the Nightmare on Elm Street sequels and you can certainly make the case here. Without putting too fine a point on it, McHattie is superb, creating a character that deserves to take its place in the “Bad Guy Hall of Shame.” No lie: the character and performance is that awesome…I was still thinking about Edgar Mullins for days afterward.

As the film gets trickier and less obvious, it also becomes exponentially more fast-paced and action-packed, all the way to a stellar climax that manages to reference both The Dark Half (1993) and A Nightmare on Elm Street 5: The Dream Child (1989). Similar to his work in Cube and Splice (2009), Natali ramps up to the action so subtly that we barely even notice the change from more austere haunted house chills to more overt thrills. It’s a nice technique that showcases a sense of restraint missing in many current low-budget indie horror films, a sense of restraint that other filmmakers would do well to emulate.

Ultimately, Haunter is not the most original film you’ll ever see: if I had to boil it down, I’d say that it basically plays like a better, more crowd-pleasing version of The Lovely Bones, albeit one that manages to work time loops into the mix in a thoroughly fresh way. Despite beginning with a rather tired, hackneyed idea, however, Natali manages to breathe fresh life into it: despite my general dislike of remakes, I’m coming to the conclusion that there might not be anyone better qualified to re-imagine an existing film than he is. After all, he managed to take an overly familiar concept and turn it into something shiny and new: if that’s not the whole point of a remake, I don’t know what it.

7/29/14 (Part One): A Totally Wack Experience

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Andrea Runge, ax murders, bad movies, based on a true story, Billy Campbell, Christina Ricci, Clea DuVall, dysfunctional family, famous trials, Gregg Henry, historical drama, Lifetime Channel, Lizzie Borden, Lizzie Borden Took An Ax, murder, Nick Gomez, patricide, period-piece, set in the 1890s, Shawn Doyle, sisters, Stephen McHattie, true crime, TV movie

You’d think that making a film about the murder trial of Lizzie Borden would be kind of a no-brainer: after all, this is a case about a young woman from 1890s Massachusetts who was accused, tried and acquitted of butchering her father and step-mother with an ax. The case is so famous that it even inspired a children’s’ playground rhyme (“Lizzie Borden took an ax / And gave her mother forty whacks. / When she saw what she had done, / She gave her father forty-one.”). In certain ways, the media frenzy surrounding the case could be seen as a precursor to modern-day murder trials like Casey Anthony and Jodi Arias: young women who were all considered unlikely murder suspects thanks to their ages, looks and social statuses.

You would think that making a film about a fascinating, real-life case like this would be simple: judging by Nick Gomez’s truly terrible Lizzie Borden Took An Ax (2014), however, you would be wrong…dead wrong, as it were. While the film comes with a fairly huge handicap (it was a “Lifetime Channel original film”, which carries about as much artistic weight as do the terms “Syfy original” or “Asylum exclusive”), the problems (almost too numerous to count) go far and beyond the film’s place of birth. Lizzie Borden Took An Ax is a film that manages to get almost nothing right, managing to be simultaneously over-wrought, lackadaisical, over-the-top and duller than dishwater: no mean feat considering that the film whiplashes tone so often that one could get seriously motion-sick trying to keep up.

The film begins by sketching out (very skimpily) our major players: we meet the obnoxious Lizzie (Christina Ricci), a sort of 1890s take on Macaulay Culkin’s version of Michael Alig from Party Monster (2003); her supportive but numbingly milquetoast sister, Emma (Clea Duvall); her strict, closed-off father (Stephen McHattie), who’s interest in Lizzie appears to border on the incestuous; and Lizzie’s much hated stepmother (Sara Botsford). As far as characterization goes, that’s just about it. We do get a throwaway bit where a couple of town guys argue with Lizzie’s father, Andrew, about being shorted on payment for services rendered but this is never explored any further: I’d be shocked if the information was ever supposed to be more than a MacGuffin. With these characters, what you see is what you get.

So what do we get? Well, we get a ridiculously modern, stomping hybrid of hip-hop and blues for the musical score, which goes superbly with all of the ridiculous slo-mo shots: there are so many “badass” moments where characters stride in slo-mo down the street, accompanied by the over-the-top score, that I briefly wondered if this was the first ever historical drama completely informed by modern super hero movies. We get a performance from Ricci that ranges wildly between “just rolled out of bed stoned” to “every vein standing out in relief,” although the key connecting tissue is that no part of her performance ever feels accurate or real: it’s difficult to tell whether the odd characterization is Ricci or director Gomez’s fault but either option seems entirely valid. Stephen McHattie, who’s normally an incredibly reliable presence in indie genre films like Pontypool (2008) just looks confused here, as does Clea Duvall: both actors have the bearing of performers who are receiving their scripts a page at a time, just as lost as the audience.

While the story doesn’t veer far from the historical details of the murder, the script (which is as reliably awful as the rest of the film) still manages to throw in a raft of completely unnecessary, underdeveloped bullshit: we get another murder, which may or may not be related, although the film doesn’t care enough to explore it further; we get the suitably ridiculous portrayal of Lizzie as a modern-day party-girl magically transported to turn-of-the-20th-century Massachusetts; a stupid “insane roommate” subplot between Lizzie and her sister (the musical stingers and Ricci’s “crazy eyes” are straight out of Single White Female (1992) and enough over-acting to shame an ancient Greek theater troupe.

Picking a single low-point for the film is almost impossible but one of my favorites has to be the astoundingly stupid scene where Lizzie sneaks out to go to a party. The scene is shot exactly like a similar scene in a modern “wild youth” film might be staged: red-lit, thumping music, wild teens drinking…except it’s a period-piece, so all this takes place while the aforementioned “wild youth” are dressed in their best 1890s finery, dancing politely with each other. We get it: kids have always been kids. This doesn’t make it any less of a stupid affectation, however, although it goes hand-in-hand with that ridiculous musical score.

Essentially, Lizzie Borden Took An Ax is completely DOA, flatlining way before we limp in to the inane “twist”ending (spoiler alert: Lizzie did it, after all…duh). Truth be told, there’s virtually nothing to recommend about this film: the cast is pretty bad, including the more established actors like Ricci and McHattie; everything about the storyline is obvious and telegraphed; the score is ludicrous; the acting is too over-the-top, which turns the pulpy dialogue into something resembling film noir for idiots; the courtroom/trial stuff is simultaneously cheesy and boring…truth be told, the only miraculous thing about Gomez’s film is how it manages to be so bad without ever skipping over the line into “so-bad-it’s-good” territory.

If one is so inclined, however, there’s a pretty vicious drinking game that can be applied to the film. To whit: every time you get a gratuitous shot of McHattie’s ax-ruined face, take a drink. Since this happens at a ratio of at least once a minute for the first 30 minutes or so (including a hilarious bit where his face is covered…only for the cloth to be dramatically whipped away, revealing that damn bloody face again…take that!), you’ll either be toes-up drunk by the mid-point or completely unconscious: either way, you win.