A Crisis at Home and Abroad

 By George Wolf

These days, there is an incredibly gifted group of young actors working in film – particularly  young female actors. Ginger & Rosa provides further proof that Elle Fanning belongs near the very top of this talented club.

At just fourteen years old (fifteen on April 9th), Fanning displays an astonishing level of emotional maturity, able to craft a window to her character’s soul, often without a single word. At this point, it is hard to imagine a limit to her potential.

In Ginger & Rosa, Fanning’s is just one of several strong performances in writer/director Sally Potter’s semi-autobiographical tale of a young girl battling fears of nuclear annihilation, and a growing crisis in her own family.

Set in 1960s London, the film shows Ginger (Fanning) and her best friend Rosa (Alice Englert) as nearly inseparable, testing parental boundaries and pondering their futures. Ginger, though, can’t shake her fears of nuclear war, and she grows increasingly anxious as the Cuban  missile crisis permeates the headlines.

When Ginger’s parents (Christina Hendricks and Alessandro Nivola, both stellar) separate, Ginger bounces between them as a situation arises that threatens both her family and her friendship with Rosa.

Potter displays a nuanced touch as she gently juxtaposes a coming of age story with the social, political and sexual upheaval of the time. Her film has an artful quality, as it makes quiet but powerful points on the effects of feeling helpless – in the world and right at home.

4 stars (out of 5)

Like Visiting an Old, Very Very Bloody Friend

By George Wolf

Back in ’the early 80s, a low budget horror flick called The Evil Dead got an unexpected boost from legendary author Stephen King. His  public endorsement thrust the obscure title into the spotlight, and on its way to cult status among horror fans. Evil Dead 2 followed in ’87, and then Army of Darkness in ’92. While the series grew increasingly campy, the original story of a deserted cabin, stupid kids and a certain book of the dead remains iconic.

It gets new life with Evil Dead, and fans that have been chomping at the bit will not be let down. The camp is long gone, replaced by solid writing and surprisingly steady direction. Oh, and blood, lots and lots of blood.

Director/co-writer Fede Alvarez, in his feature debut, isn’t concerned with Stooge-worthy splatter . His reboot lovingly reworks Sam Raimi’s tale, eliminating nearly all the humor but absolutely none of the bloodletting. Did I mention it’s bloody?

The film puts more backstory and character development in the mix, but the core remains. We find two couples and one sister holed up in an old cabin, but this time David (Shiloh Fernandez, a bit weak), his girlfriend and his buddies are there to help his sister Mia (Jane Levy, from TVs Suburgatory, in a fantastically gritty performance) quit her drug habit.

Though it’s impossible to pick out the contributions of each of the screenwriters updating Raimi’s script, certain elements – like this back story – scream of Diablo Cody (Juno, Young Adult, Jennifer’s Body), as an ingenious concept gives the film potential subtext by way of an unreliable narrator. Is this reality, or is Mia just insane and detoxing?

Solid writing and Alvarez’s gleefully indulgent direction allow the film – not only a remake, but a remake of a film that tread the overworn path of “cabin in the woods horror” – to remain shockingly fresh.  This is thanks in part to a handful of inspired tweaks, a couple fine performances, and a fearless but never contemptuous eye for carnage.

From the super-creepy opening sequence, Alverez’s update announces its fondness for the source material and his joyous aspiration to stretch that tale to its fullest, nastiest potential. He also shows a real skill for putting nail guns, machetes, hammers, electric meat slicers, hypodermics, even your standard bathroom mirror to fascinating new uses. Bloody, bloody uses.

It’s a quick, intense ride, but don’t be in a rush to leave the theater. For fans of the series, there’s a little gift at the end of the credits.

Bloody good fun!

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So that happened: Wahoo Woes

By Hope Madden

It is officially baseball season. As a Cleveland Indians fan, I know that this will likely mean pessimism followed by spurts of joy and confidence, crushed mid-season and turned to heartbreak. (The difference between being a Tribe fan and a fan of any other Cleveland team is that tiny glimpse of optimism and joy.)

I can remember when those positive feelings followed the whole season long. Hell, I can remember when we did well season after season. Sigh. Now it’s mostly heartache and embarrassment, and sometimes it doesn’t even have to be baseball season.

Like, say, that time years ago when I visited my dad in Alabama. He’d arranged for me to meet up with his friend Randy Trailwalker one afternoon.

Randy made a living selling handmade goods at pow wows around Alabama and neighboring states. My dad had promised my son Riley I’d bring him back one of Randy’s coolest items. Dad thought Riley would be excited.

He was correct – Riley, then about 7, wanted a dreamcatcher.

I welcomed the chance to escape Dad’s place for an afternoon. I’m not saying I’d grown tired of the Game Show network or anything. I can watch Match Game episodes from 1960s at top volume all day long. But a few Gene Rayburn-free hours to talk at normal volume and peruse handmade arts sounded great.

Randy was awesome – incredibly nice and eager not to sell me ready-made gifts, but to teach me how to make them so I could teach Riley to make his own. Fun!

I made a dreamcatcher and I did not suck at it. We used really nice materials – turkey feathers, handmade beads, assorted groovy whatnot. Randy patiently walked me through the steps, then bagged up identical materials so Riley could make his own. Then we made a bravery bracelet, and bagged materials up for Riley. We also made some kind of fantastic necklace. Basically, I got carried away before I thought about price.

Randy insisted on taking no payment because he was so fond of my dad. I’d been warned this would happen, and my dad made me promise not to take advantage of his friend and to insist even more strongly that he accept payment. Which I was prepared to do. Sort of.

Randy was not about to tell me how much all this was worth, but even a dimwit like myself realized we’d far outreached the $20 I’d brought along. I decided to quietly leave a check behind.

Classy, right?

Then I remembered.

I have Cleveland Indians checks. Big ol’ smiling Wahoo face right in the center.

It really does sometimes feel like a curse.

For Your Queue: Soy Sauce and Bug Powder

Slim pickin’s in the new release category this week, but if you feel like getting really high, we have a couple of options for you.

John Dies at the End tells the mind-bent tale of a couple slacker vigilantes hunting the supernatural. Dave (Chase Williamson) tells viewers how the twosome came to “handle unusual problems,” and the story he spills comes together in shades of Cronenberg, Burroughs, and Phillip K. Dick, spun with the sensibilities of Sam Raimi circa Evil Dead. That, friends, is good company. And though director Don Coscarelli (best known for Phantasm, but personally beloved for Bubba Ho-Tep) can’t keep the trippy logic afloat for the whole running time, its “whatevs” style of clever remains surprisingly enjoyable.

As long as we’re breaking the time-space continuum, let’s hit 1991 and the David Cronenberg film so frequently referenced in John Dies: Naked Lunch. Bill Lee’s a kind of an investigator, a writer, and, of course, an exterminator. Warped, beautiful and repellant, Cronenberg’s take on the William S. Burroughs classic is a SciFi adventure into Interzone where sex, writer’s block, addiction, guilt, transformation, and bug powder mesh gloriously.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LxYxiVfNk6M

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dtflS5wCbjw