12/31/14 (Part One): School is Back in Session

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ABCs of Death, Aharon Keshales, Alejandro Brugues, Alexandre Bustillo, Ant Timpson, anthology films, Best of 2014, Bill Plympton, Bruno Samper, Chris Nash, cinema, Dennison Ramalho, E.L. Katz, Erik Matti, favorite films, film reviews, films, foreign films, Hajime Ohata, horror, horror films, horror-comedies, Jerome Sable, Jim Hosking, Juan Martinez Moreno, Julian Barratt, Julian Gilbey, Julien Maury, Kristina Buozyte, Lancelot Odawa Imasuen, Larry Fessenden, Marvin Kren, Movies, multiple directors, multiple writers, Navot Papushado, Robert Boocheck, Robert Morgan, Rodney Ascher, sequels, shorts, Soichi Umezawa, Soska Sisters, Steven Kostanski, The ABCs of Death 2, Tim League, Todd Rohal, Vincenzo Natali

Count me as one of the number of people who love anthology films. Going all the way back to the old Amicus days, anthology films have always been a great way to inject a little variety into your viewing, sort of the equivalent of sitting down with a good short story collection rather than trudging through a full-length tome. Over the years, there have been plenty of anthology films, good and bad, but the basic formula has remained pretty constant: take a good wrap-around segment, add some nice varied shorts with effective twists and shocks et voila! The perfect anthology film!

When The ABCs of Death (2012) came around, the concept was pretty unbeatable: give twenty-six different genre directors a different letter of the alphabet and have them fashion a short, with the only rule being that the shorts must represent death, in some way, shape or form. While some of the shorts were pointless, stupid and/or tedious, many of them were blackly-comic mini marvels and I found the whole thing to be a great way to get exposure to a wide variety of genre filmmakers in small, bite-sized morsels. Needless to say, when a sequel, The ABCs of Death 2 (2014) was announced, I found myself more than ready to absorb the next twenty-six entries in this informative little series. The consensus this time around? Part Two is bigger, better and outrageously fun, pretty much the best party film of the year and a must-see with a big audience, if one gets the chance. A sequel that’s better than the original? You can bet your blood-stained, bottom dollar on it!

As with the first installment, ABCs of Death 2 sees twenty-six wildly divergent filmmakers each tackle a different letter of the alphabet, with the only intention being to depict grievous bodily harm in as many colorful, gonzo and awe-inspiring ways as possible. Some filmmakers take an explicitly humorous take on the proceedings, such as Jim Hoskin and Erik Matti’s offerings, whereas others treat the subject as deadly serious (Kristina Buozyte and Bruno Samper’s exquisite “K is for Knell,” Dennison Ramalho;s brutal “J is for Jesus”). While there’s no real theme, per se, the trend in this particular iteration is towards films from Latin and South America, which provides an interesting contrast with the more Asian-oriented films from the previous ABCs of Death. Despite this, however, ABCs of Death 2 still provides a nice global overview of horror filmmaking, from the United States to Australia, from Africa to Israel, Mexico, Japan and the Philippines.

Any time you have twenty-six different films from twenty-six different filmmakers, you can expect a wide range of quality and effectiveness: in other words, there are going to be at least a few clunkers amid the gems. While I’ll admit that a few of the shorts in The ABCs of Death 2 rubbed me the wrong way (I actively hated Todd Rohal’s P-P-P-P Scary! and was really disappointed by the shorts turned in by Bill Plympton, the Soska sisters and Larry Fessenden), the ratio of great-to-meh was overwhelmingly tilted in the right direction. When the shorts were great, such as with the E.L. Katz, Robert Morgan, Kristina Buozyte/Bruno Samper, Robert Boocheck, Vincenzo Natali, Chris Nash, Steven Kostanksi and Julien Maury/Alexandre Bustillo films, they were practically transcendent, revealing fascinating, new takes on familiar horror tropes and cliches.

In fact, one of the greatest things about The ABCs of Death 2 is just how genuinely interesting the various shorts are. With very few exceptions (Rohal’s short is almost unbearably bad), even the lesser entries are, at the very least, oddball and interesting enough to gloss over any issues with production values, acting, scripts, etc… and make them worthwhile views.

I’ll also take a minute to point out that the effects on display range from the very basic to the very mindblowing: I’m pretty sure that Kostanki’s Wish segment will impress just about anybody, with its absolutely masterful blending of CGI, stop-motion and practical effects. Gorehounds will be happy to know that ABCs 2 very rarely shies away from the hardcore: restraint is not a virtue, as far as these particular shorts are concerned and some of the segments hit some truly nightmarish plateaus.

All in all, ABCs of Death 2 was one of the biggest surprises I had all year. While I enjoyed the first film, I had no reason to expect that the follow-up would be anywhere near this good: when it’s firing on all cylinders, ABCs of Death 2 is, easily, one of the best horror films of the year. There are certain images in this film, especially with Steven Kostanski’s brilliant “W is for Wish,” that I’ll probably never get out of my head…and that’s a very good thing. When it’s good, which is often, ABCs of Death 2 is the kind of film that horror fans will definitely want to remember and cherish. At this rate, I’m already looking forward to ABCs of Death 4: bring it on, you magnificent bastards…bring it on!

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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.

10/24/14 (Part Two): Mommy’s Little Monster

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31 Days of Halloween, Adrien Brody, androgyny, auteur theory, body image, Brandon McGibbon, Bride of Frankenstein, Canadian films, cinema, co-writers, creature feature, Cube, David Hewlett, Delphine Chaneac, experiments, Film auteurs, film reviews, films, Frankenstein, gender roles, gene splicing, genetic research, Henry Frankenstein, intelligence, KNB Effects, Mary Shelley, Movies, near future, new parents, parent-child relationships, research & development, Sarah Polley, sci-fi, sci-fi-horror, Splice, technological advancement, Vincenzo Natali, writer-director

As this “brave new world” that we’re part of throttles ever forward, we find ourselves in an era when groundbreaking scientific discoveries seem to be a dime a dozen: here a medical breakthrough, there a previously undreamed of planet, everywhere some innovation. Hell, researchers even think they’ve discovered how to prevent humans from aging: forget the Jetson’s flying cars…this is what the future really looks like, apparently. As the question of “Can we do this?” becomes more moot, however, we find ourselves in a quandary that’s at least as old as Mary Shelley’s stitched-together creation: “Should we do this?”

Indeed, as our technological prowess and knowledge expands exponentially (seemingly by the minute), humanity finds itself at a bit of a crossroads, similar to that faced by a parent and child: at some point, the child’s knowledge will surpass the parent’s, regardless of how “smart” they are. As our technological abilities lap our current understanding of the larger implications involving issues like artificial intelligence and genetic engineering, however, the bigger, more terrifying problem becomes evident: at some point, humanity will unleash something on itself that it not only doesn’t fully understand but that it’s powerless to resist. Writer-director Vincenzo Natali’s sci-fi/horror Splice (2009) takes a look at this very issue, wrapping the warning in a tale that’s equal parts “new parent blues” and body horror, sort of like Cronenberg tackling Frankenstein. It’s a bracing and, at times, highly unpleasant film. Like all of Natali’s films, however, it’s also thought-provoking, intelligent and has enough twists and turns to separate it from the pack.

Clive (Adrien Brody) and Elsa (Sarah Polley) are maverick scientists involved in cutting-edge gene-splicing research. Their research involves combining various organisms, culminating in their pride and joys, “Fred” and “Ginger,” organic creations that are like nothing that came before. After their research company decides to halt further genetic splicing in favor of focusing on the breakthroughs they already have, however, Clive and Elsa decide to go rogue and continue their splicing experiments on their own. For “pure” scientists, the thrill is always in the chase, not the chase, and the partners won’t stop when they’re so close to a world-changing discovery.

And, of course, they end up getting their wish, albeit in a way that they probably didn’t expect. Thanks to the inclusion of human DNA in their experiment, Clive and Elsa are now the proud “parents” of…well, something, for lack of a better word. The name their creation “Dren” and there’s immediately conflict: Clive is horrified by what they’ve done and wants to kill the “creature” before anything bad happens. Elsa, on the other hand, wants to study Dren: since the creature ages at an accelerated rate, Elsa figures that they have a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to observe the entire life-cycle of a new species…what scientist worth their salt would pass that up?

As Dren grows, she develops into something decidedly alien, humanoid although possessed of a massive tail with a poisonous stinger at the end, similar to a scorpion. As Dren gets older, the relationship between the “parents” and their “child” becomes more complicated, made more so when Dren begins to display some decidedly violent behavior. If Frankenstein taught us anything it’s that first impressions probably aren’t the best judge. For, you see, as Dren grows, she’s changing: becoming something much greater and more terrifying than the scientists could have ever imagined. After “Fred” and “Ginger” tear each other to rags before a mortified crowd of spectators, Clive and Elsa’s “official” research is shut down. Their secret project has now become something potentially lethal, however, something which threatens not only their lives but the very future of the human species. As Clive and Elsa will learn, there are some doors that should never be opened, even if we have the key.

Like Natali’s solid debut, Cube (1997), Splice is elevated by a great central idea and some truly intelligent writing. Unlike Cube, however, Splice benefits from some excellent acting and much greater production values: the creature is always impressive, from the get-go, and only gets more so as it continues to “evolve” and change. Natali is a tricky filmmaker, almost a poker-faced prankster who delights in hiding things in the margins of his films. One of my favorite revelations in Splice comes from the names of Brody and Polley’s characters: Clive and Elsa. Unless I’m reading too much into it, the connection with Universal’s classic monster flicks seems undeniable: Colin Clive played Henry Frankenstein in James Whale’s classic Frankenstein (1931), while Elsa Lancaster played the monster’s “bride” in the followup, The Bride of Frankenstein (1935). Subtle, sure, but just the kind of attention to detail that make Natali’s films so interesting.

More importantly, however, Adrien Brody and Sarah Polley invest the film with some genuine heart and soul: unlike the under-developed characters from Cube, Splice is filled with what feel like real people dealing with some intensely difficult decisions. They don’t always make the right decisions, of course, but what Frankenstein story would be complete without a misguided God complex? Polley, in particular, is fantastic as Elsa: she gets some extremely difficult emotional beats to work through and nails everything with a verve that makes it impossible to take your eyes off of her. It’s to Polley’s great credit that she can share the screen with what amounts to a scorpion-tailed gargoyle and still hold her own: contrast this with something like Pacific Rim (2013), where the human actors are completely upstaged by the monsters and robots.

As previously mentioned, Splice is full of some pretty ingenious twists and turns, none of which I’ll spoil here. Suffice to say that the film manages to work in discussions of body image, gender roles and Oedipal/Elektra complexes before the whole thing culminates in a blood-drenched finale that’s the very epitome of “The end is the beginning.” As with almost all of his films, Natali seems more interested in setting up clichéd tropes in order to detonate them from the inside than he is in playing to audience expectations: just when you think you have Splice figured out, Natali flips the film on its head and tells you to take another look. As someone who constantly bemoans lackluster resolutions in indie horror films, I find Natali to be a breath of fresh air: no matter what happens, I know that he’ll find an interesting way to resolve everything without resorting to obvious “Shyamalanisms.”

As with most of Natali’s films, Splice is far from perfect but none of the minor issues or slight imperfections really impact the overall film: taken as a whole, Splice is a massively entertaining, thought-provoking sci-fi/horror film that combines the chilly sterility of Cronenberg with a blood-and-guts monster flick. There are ideas aplenty here and Natali manages to hit most of what he’s aiming at, making Splice one of the most intriguing of the new wave of “intelligent sci-fi” that’s cropped-up in the last five years or so. It’s rare to find a horror film that has both heart and brains, guts and a soul. Like any good mad scientist, Natali has cobbled his film together out of some pretty cool spare parts and let me tell you: it’s a real monster.

10/24/14 (Part One): Death Cubed

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31 Days of Halloween, Andrew Miller, auteur theory, booby-traps, Canadian films, cinema, co-writers, Cube, David Hewlett, dystopian future, feature-film debut, Film auteurs, film franchise, film reviews, films, indie films, isolation, Julian Richings, Maurice Dean Wint, Movies, Nicky Guadagni, Nicole de Boer, number puzzles, paranoia, sci-fi, sci-fi-horror, twist ending, Vincenzo Natali, Wayne Robson, working together, writer-director

Proof-positive that a good story and strong execution can trump such film issues as iffy acting and low budgets, Vincenzo Natali’s debut feature, Cube (1997) is a minor classic of indie-sci fi, a modest, mind-bending little film that would go on to serve as a pretty apt calling card for the writer-director as he would move on to bigger and better things. Using limited sets, astoundingly realistic (and ultra-gnarly) practical effects and an intriguing core concept, Cube manages to succeed as both sci fi and horror and would go on to launch a franchise (although, like the Hellraiser franchise, only the first couple films are actually any good).

One of Cube’s greatest strengths is the streamlined simplicity of its storyline. In a nutshell, a group of complete strangers wake up in a strange series of square, interconnected rooms. The rooms have entry/exit hatches in each wall, with mysterious sets of numbers etched into them. None of the strangers know where they are, why they’re there or what they need to do to escape. There’s only one stone cold fact: most of the rooms are booby-trapped with a variety of nasty, instant death scenarios (acid to the face, razor-wire that cuts bodies into bite-sized pieces, flame traps, gas traps, etc…). The group will need to overcome their distrust and paranoia towards each other in order to combine their skills and figure out the mystery of their “prison.” As their numbers dwindle and power plays erupt left and right (mostly courtesy of Quentin (Maurice Dean Wint), the bullying cop who serves as de facto leader), the prisoners will discover the ultimate truth about “the cube,” a truth that could spell doom for them all.

There’s so much that works spectacularly well with Natali’s debut that it might be a little more illustrative to point out the aspects that fail miserably. The first and most major issue with Cube is the decidedly amateurish, over-the-top acting: this was actually so off-putting that I seriously considered stopping the film midway through my first viewing years ago. For the most part, the acting consists of actors angrily shouting lines at each other, an aspect that gave me unhappy flashbacks to George Romero’s equally shouty Day of the Dead (1985). It winds up being a pretty major problem, at least until one gets sucked into the storyline, mostly because it makes it nearly impossible to suspend disbelief: there’s no point in the film where I ever really buy the characters as anything more than actors, even by the film’s conclusion. In particular, Maurice Dean Wint is a nostril-flaring, forehead-creasing, scenery-munching force of nature, a performer who manages to turn the simplest lines into cumbersome head-scratchers. The rest of the cast doesn’t fare much better but it’s a pretty difficult task to out-shout Wint: by comparison, everyone else seems to be underacting to the point of doing mumble-core.

The second issue, although a decidedly more minor one, is Cube’s decidedly low budget. Despite the brilliant set design, it’s pretty obvious that the entire film takes place in only a couple of rooms, giving the whole production an almost play-like feel. The effects work is absolutely stellar, particularly concerning the low budget, but closer inspection of some of the backgrounds and props reveal a decidedly more low-rent affair. Again, not a deal breaker under any stretch of the imagination but certainly an issue that the filmmakers grapple with.

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is pretty much the end of Cube’s “big issues”: past that point, it’s some pretty damn smooth sailing. The overarching story is fascinating, filled with twists, turns and unanswered questions galore, easily grabbing the audience’s attention when the acting gets a little too intense. The set design, despite the low budget, is astonishing, managing to replicate some of the look and feel of a film like 2001 (1968) on 1/100th of the budget. The kills are very creative, extremely gory and very well-executed: the basic setup to the film finds us holding our breath whenever the group enters a new room, even in those instances where the room has been deemed “safe.” The discussions of mathematics and higher-level logic puzzles, as relates to the mysterious strings of numbers, are dizzying but help place the film on a higher intellectual shelf than any of a thousand similar low-budget films, particularly sci-fi related ones. Quite simply, Cube is one smart film and handily serves as a bridge to similarly smart contemporary films like Pi (1998) and Primer (2004): if anything, think of Cube as the “gateway drug” to get sci fi neophytes into the more complex stuff…Starship Troopers (1997), this ain’t.

Ultimately, Cube will always stand as one of those films that not only took me by surprise but ended up completely blowing me away. In fact, Cube is actually one of the films that’s responsible for my current tendency to resist the urge to turn off films: had I given up on Natali’s debut before it had a chance to sink its claws into me, I would have not only missed one of the best indie sci-fi/horror films ever but I probably would have ended up missing out on the rest of Natali’s oeuvre, a body of work which has proven consistently tricky, thought-provoking and endlessly entertaining. Cube taught me that, sometimes, the whole can be greater than the sum of its parts. When Natali is piloting the ship, I’ve learned to just kick back and put my faith in the captain.