That’s a question that drives Luis Orgeta’s El Angel, a fantastically stylish period piece and provocative bit of storytelling that mythologizes Argentina’s most notorious serial killer.
Lorenzo Ferro is Carlito, mischievous imp and beautiful youth. In his acting debut, Ferro mesmerizes—appropriately enough. The sleepy charisma of the performance, paired with Ortega’s beguiling direction, seduces you.
Ortega saturates every frame with color, pattern and song, creating a sensual atmosphere that mirrors the storytelling. Meanwhile, Ferro captures a fearlessness that comes from the singular desire to experience each moment as it happens with no regard for what comes after, an alluring quality for both the audience and the other players in Carlito’s world.
While the newcomer is the clear center of gravity in this film, each supporting turn is stronger than the last. Together the actors populate this charmingly unseemly world with dimensional, intriguing misfits.
Chino Darín has the beefiest role as Carlito’s best friend, partner in crime and the object of his longing. That’s a theme—longing—Ortega plays with to unsettling results. There is a sexuality to everything Carlito does, and the relationship between the two friends remains tantalizingly unarticulated.
The release the audience gets instead is in the violence of the crimes.
The way Ortega emphasizes small, curious moments and deemphasizes the brutality without looking away from it is a true feat. The film—and, indeed, the life of Carlos Robledo Puch, the murderer in question—holds a great deal of violence. Truth is, the film may not contain enough.
Ortega’s interest involves the seductive quality of the bad guy. To get at this, though, he whitewashes Puch’s crimes. Besides being a murderer and a bit of an eccentric, Puch was a rapist and kidnapper who once shot at a sleeping infant. The omissions change the film from one that explores and mirrors the seductive quality of the villain to one that manipulates true life to fit a tidier vision.
Still, the sheer off-kilter spectacle that finds its focus in small, weird moments is too great to dismiss. Like the character it creates, El Angel’s allure is too strong to resist.
It’s all of those, a totally enthralling account of one man’s quest to do the unthinkable, and the uncommon psyche that drives him to do it.
Alex Honnold became hooked on rock climbing at an early age, eventually dropping out of Cal-Berkeley to live in a van and devote himself to the climb. Recognition and sponsor money soon followed, until his increasing devotion to climbing without safety equipment (“free soloing”) caused some sponsors to withdraw support, citing concern for pushing the boundaries of risk.
Last year, Honnold realized a dream eight years in the making, becoming the first human being to free solo up the 3200 feet of granite that is El Capitan in California’s Yosemite National Park, a wall Honnold calls “the most impressive on Earth.”
Directors Jimmy Chin and Elizabeth Chai Vasarhelyi, plus a very visibly nervous crew, were there to document the climb with truly awe-inspiring footage that demands to be seen on the biggest screen you can find. You will marvel at the accomplishment even as you doubt Honnold’s sanity, which makes the second layer of the film that much more meaningful.
As they did with the mountain climbers in their 2015 doc Meru, Chin and Vasarhelyi want to get in their subject’s head, even following Honnold into an MRI brain exam when he wonders if there might be a biological reason for his death-defying urges.
It’s his upbringing, though, one of few displays of affection and a constant need to perform, that’s more revealing. We see Honnold as an extremely bright young man undeterred by societal concerns, yet consistently trying to self-access and become more social.
At 23, he thought it was best to practice the strange act of hugging.
A serious girlfriend, the bubbly, camera-friendly Sanni McCandless, complicates things, and as climbing legend Tommy Caldwell reminds us of the near-total mortality rate for free soloists, Honnold matter-of-factly debates any “obligation to maximize my life span.”
This is merely one contrast in a film of many. Even the filmmakers, committed as they are to the project, question the affect their very presence might have on Honnold’s decision-making. It’s all never less than compelling.
But in contrasting glorious human achievement with acceptable sacrifice, Free Solo becomes nearly unforgettable.
Holidays are over, work is already a drag, who wants to just snuggle up and watch a movie? There is one great one available this week. Also one that’s got some promise, even if it derails. Then there’s one that’s frustrating because we really wanted to like it.
FULL LIST OF HORROR 101 AT GATEWAY FILM CENTER ANNOUNCED
National panel of experts selects titles for the new program
In 2017, Gateway Film Center launched its most ambitious program ever, Cult 101, which was a celebration of the best cult films of all-time. Selected by a national panel of experts, all 101 films were screened at the center in 2017, and presentations were often paired with conversations, expert analysis, and always with a healthy dose of audience affection. Many of the films were presented as restorations, sometimes in 4K, or on 70mm or 35mm film.
Now, one year later, the center will launch a companion program, Horror 101, paying tribute to the best of those films that scare, unsettle or disturb.
“As soon as Cult 101 ended, I started getting requests for more programs that were similar to it in scale and scope,” said Gateway Film Center President, Chris Hamel. “With the amazing impact these films have had on our culture, and the spirited debates horror films seem to create, Horror 101 was the obvious choice for a new program.”
National and local news outlets, filmmakers, studios, distributors, critics and programmers were selected to help the film center with its final picks. Contributors include representatives from Warner Brothers, Lionsgate, IFC Films, Paramount, MPI Media and Dark Sky Films, Magnolia Pictures, Nightmares Film Festival, Days of the Dead, Fangoria, Maddwolf, and more.
The program begins Valentine’s Day with Candyman (1992) at 7:30 p.m. The complete list of films is below, and their screening times will be revealed each quarter, treating Horror 101 as four seasons of top horror film.
The first screening schedule will be announced on January 15.
Normal Gateway Film Center ticket pricing will apply to all screenings. Most screenings are free to myGFC members. Visit www.gatewayfilmcenter.org for more information.
Here is the list of Horror 101 titles, listed alphabetically:
28 Days Later (2002) A Nightmare On Elm Street (1984) Alien (1979) Altered States (1980) The Amityville Horror (1979) An American Werewolf In London (1981) Antichrist (2009) Audition (1999) The Babadook (2016) Battle Royale (2000) Beetlejuice (1988) The Birds (1963) Black Christmas (1974) The Blair Witch Project (1999) The Bride of Frankenstein (1935) The Cabin In The Woods (2012) The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari (1920) Candyman (1992) Carnival of Souls (1962) Carrie (1976) Cat People (1942) The Changeling (1980) Child’s Play (1988) The Creature From The Black Lagoon (1954) Creepshow (1982) Dawn of the Dead (1978) Dead Alive (1992) The Descent (2005) Don’t Look Now (1973) Donnie Darko (2001) Dracula (1931) Drag Me To Hell (2009) Eraserhead (1977) Evil Dead II (1987) The Evil Dead (1981) The Exorcist (1971) The Fly (1986) Frankenstein (1931) Friday the 13th (1980) Fright Night (1985) Get Out (2017) Godzilla, King of the Monsters! (1954) Halloween (1978) Halloween III: Season of the Witch (1982) Hellraiser (1987) Hereditary (2018) High Tension (2003) The Hills Have Eyes (1977) Horror of Dracula (1958) The House of the Devil (2009) House On Haunted Hill (1959) I Saw The Devil (2010) Inside (2007) Invasion of the Body Snatchers (1956) Jacob’s Ladder (1990) Jaws (1975) King Kong (1933) The Last House On The Left (1972) Let The Right One In (2008) The Lost Boys (1987) Martin (1977) Martyrs (2008) Masque of the Red Death (1964) Misery (1990) The Mummy (1932) Near Dark (1987) Night of the Creeps (1986) Night of the Hunter (1955) Night of the Living Dead (1968) Nosferatu (1922) The Omen (1976) The Orphanage (2007) Pan’s Labyrinth (2006) Paranormal Activity (2007) The People Under The Stairs (1991) Pet Semetary (1989) Phantasm (1979) Poltergeist (1982) Psycho (1960) Re-Animator (1985) Return of the Living Dead (1985) The Ring (2002) Ringu (1998) Rosemary’s Baby (1968) Saw (2004) Scanners (1981) Scream (1995) Se7en (1995) The Shining (1980) The Silence of the Lambs (1991) The Sixth Sense (1999) Suspiria (1977) The Texas Chainsaw Massacre (1974) The Thing (1982) Trick ‘r Treat (2007) Videodrome (1983) The Wicker Man (1973) The Witch (2015) The Wolf Man (1941) Zombie (1979)
We crash into the new year with a mixture of Oscar contenders and off-season studio mediocrity: If Beale Street Could Talk, Escape Room, Liyana. We also cover all that’s new and interesting in home entertainment.
Man, I really liked Escape Room back in 1997 when it was called Cube.
Director Adam Robitel, who managed to do something fresh and upsetting with his 2014 feature directorial debut The Taking of Deborah Logan, here contents himself with borrowing … lifting…no, this is downright larceny.
In Vincenzo Natali’s underfunded but groundbreaking Canadian horror, Cube, six strangers—each with unique skills and backgrounds—find themselves trapped in a building and must unravel each room’s puzzle only to escape to the next room/deathtrap.
I don’t know if you’ve seen the trailer for Escape Room, but Robitel and screenwriters Maria Melnik and Bragi F. Schut have certainly seen Cube.
Cripplingly shy brainiac Zoey (Taylor Russell) is one of a handful of random strangers to receive a puzzle box in the shape of a cube. Let’s just assume that’s a nod toward the film’s source material and not a different, terrible rip off of Hellraiser.
By solving the puzzle, Zoey—and, sprinkled all over town, others—win the opportunity to attempt the most elaborate escape room ever constructed.
Actually, the architecture is weirdly familiar.
If you can get past the plagiarism and lazy theft–please add Final Destination and Saw to the list of the aggrieved—you will note that Russell and the entire cast performs quite well. Deborah Ann Woll (True Blood) impresses as a bit of a badass, while Nik Dodani endears in a small role and Tyler (Tucker and Dale vs Evil) Labine is adorable, as is almost always the case.
Many of the set pieces are pretty cool, too. One upside-down billiards room bit, in particular, holds your attention. But the game cast and sometimes fun sequences can only overcome the film’s weaknesses for so long.
Even if all these antics are new to you, the film’s predictable climax and disappointing waning moments are bound to leave you feeling that this movie could have been better.
Thunder Road is the best film you almost certainly missed in 2018. You should rectify that situation post haste.
Jim Cummings writes, directs and stars as Officer Jim Arnaud, a man at a crossroads. Who else would be at the center of a film named for a Springsteen tune?
Like one of the year’s other most insightful and original indie gems, Hereditary, Thunder Road opens at a funeral. Also like Ari Aster’s breathless exploration of familial loss and dysfunction, Thunder Road establishes the tone for the film, the mental state and general disposition of the lead, and an unusual perspective with its opening scene.
But Cummings takes his meditation on grief and existential dread in very different directions.
As both a filmmaker and a performer, Cummings walks a tonal tightrope strung just that side of hysteria. Equally earnest and absurd, comical and heartbreaking, the film and the lead turn compel your attention, your empathy, your discomfort and your love.
You will love Officer Jim Arnaud by film’s end, not regardless but because of his epic failures and bottomless reserve of vulnerability. It is impossible not to root for him, not to feel his humiliations, not to admire his corrective measures no matter how ridiculous they are.
The filmmaker’s assembled a wonderful supporting cast. Nican Robinson, in particular, bursts through best friend/partner clichés to develop a tender character whose wearied facial expressions say more about his years of friendship than Cummings’s pitch perfect dialog could manage.
Macon Blair, Kendal Farr and Jocelyn DeBoer all bring a wonderfully familiar but nuanced small town resignation to their scenes that suits the film’s overall tone and creates an ecosystem where Jim Arnaud could certainly exist.
Cummings’s film is hilarious and unblinking, uncomfortable yet kind, and above all things, forgiving. A lot of filmmakers have taken inspiration from Springsteen’s lyrics and brought a dying blue collar American to the screen. None have done the Boss justice the way Cummings has.
That girl is Liyana, a fictional character brought to life by the children living at Likhaya Lemphilo Lensha, a home for orphans in Swaziland.
During a storytelling workshop at the children’s home, author Gcina Mhlophe guides the boys and girls through exercises that allow them to imagine a collective story. Together, they weave a tale of a young girl facing enormous challenges.
Directors Amanda Kopp and Aaron Kopp focus primarily on five children, Phumlani, Nomcebo, Sibusiso, Mkhuleko and Zweli; their voices are the ones we hear throughout the film. By keeping these five at the center, we’re given a chance to get to know their personalities. Each tells the story in their own way. While the plot is the same, the details are unique to each child.
As the creative narrative unfolds, the audience is given glimpses into the lives of the children at Likhaya Lemphilop Lensha. We learn that many of the details of Liyana’s life reflect the children’s realities. HIV takes both of Liyana’s parents; her twin brothers are kidnapped in the dead of night by three vicious men. But Liyana faces each tragedy with determination; her hope and her fearlessness reflect the inner feeling of the children telling her story.
Liyana’s story is brought to life through a combination of the children’s words and gorgeous illustrations that animate the narrative. The film’s strengths lie in this weaving of the day to day realities of life with the vibrant story the children narrate.
The film’s most moving moments are when we’re allowed to spend time with the children. Watching them work in the garden, herd cattle, dance and play games is when the documentary shines. Though the children’s story is wonderful, it might have been a more powerful film if the directors had struck a better balance between fantasy and reality.
However, the indomitable spirit of children is the heart of the film. All of them have faced adversity, sadness and despair, but each has hope and it shines throughout the documentary. Liyana celebrates that wondrous courage.
Writer/director Barry Jenkins follows up his 2016 Oscar-winning masterpiece of a debut, Moonlight, with the ambitious goal of translating the work of a beautifully complex writer to a cinematic narrative. By respecting the material with a stirring commitment to character, If Beale Street Could Talk meets that goal with grace.
Based on the novel by James Baldwin (and the first English-language adaptation of his fiction), the film follows a struggling couple as a means to illustrate the intersecting forms of oppression facing African Americans.
Tish (KiKi Layne in an impressive feature debut) and “Fonny” (Stephan James, from Selma and Race) are a young couple in Harlem who embraces their unexpected pregnancy while struggling to prove Fonny’s innocence in a rape case.
As the surface tension is driven by the potentially dangerous chances Kiki’s mother (Regina King) takes to clear Fonny’s name, smaller, more quiet moments around the neighborhood cement Baldwin’s incisive take on what it means to be black in America.
Baldwin’s writing – a mix of brutal honesty, brilliant clarity and weary outrage – is understandably daunting as a film adaptation. Themes which breathe with life on the page can come to the screen in an awkward rush and land as heavy handed melodrama.
Jenkins, whose early script got the blessing of Baldwin’s estate even before the triumph of Moonlight, brings an elegance to the story which fits comfortably. A poetic camera, authentic characters and tender, fully realized performances—especially from the glorious King—weave together to sing the praises of Baldwin’s prose in hypnotic, and often heartbreaking fashion.
Amid a story of grim realities and American resilience lie bonds of love and family that the film never loses sight of, even in its most sober moments, which may be the most miraculous aspect of If Beale Street Could Talk.
It is a film without illusions, but one that carries the unbowed spirit of its characters on a deeply felt journey that honors its origins.
Was 2018 the lamentable year in horror that some dumbasses suggest? No! There was a wild and impressive range in independent horror and blockbuster stuff, gore and comedy, psychological scares and slashers. It was a really fun year to look back on, as we do today to rank the best in horror the year had to offer. Join us, won’t you?
10. The Ritual
David Bruckner has entertained us with some of the best shorts in horror today, including work from V/H/S, Southbound, and one of our favorites, The Signal. Directing his feature debut in The Ritual, Bruckner takes what feels familiar, roots it in genuine human emotion, takes a wild left turn and delivers the scares.
Five friends decide to mourn a tragedy with a trip together into the woods. Grief is a tricky, personal, often ugly process and as they work through their feelings, their frustration quickly turns to fear as they lose themselves in a foreign forest where danger lurks.
The film works for a number of reasons, but its greatest triumph is in making the woods scary again. That environment has become such a profound cliché in horror that it is almost impossible to make it feel fresh, but there is an authenticity to the performances, the interaction among the characters, and the frustration and fear that grounds the horror. And then there is horror—intriguing, startling, genuinely frightening horror. Yay!
9. Unsane
Sawyer Valentini (Claire Foy—brittle, unlikeable and amazing) is living your worst nightmare. After moving 400 miles to escape her stalker, she begins seeing him everywhere. She visits an insurance-approved therapist in a nearby clinic and quickly finds herself being held involuntarily for 24 hours.
After punching an orderly she mistakes for her stalker, that 24 hours turns into one week. And now she’s convinced that the new orderly George is, in fact, her stalker David (Joshua Leonard—cloying, terrifying perfection).
After laying bare some terrifying facts about our privatized mental health industry, Steven Soderbergh structures this critique with a somewhat traditional is-she-or-isn’t-she-crazy storyline. Anyone who watches much horror will recognize that uneasy line: you may be here against your will, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t be here.
And the seasoned director of misdirection knows how to toy with that notion, how to employ Sawyer’s very real damage, touch on her raw nerve of struggling to remain in control of her own life only to have another’s will forced upon her.
He relies on familiar tropes to say something relevant and in doing so creates a tidy, satisfying thriller.
8. Mom and Dad
I brought you into this world, I can take you out of it.
It’s a joke, of course, an idle threat. Right?
Maybe so, but deep down, it does speak to the unspeakable tumult of emotions and desires that come with parenting. Wisely, a humorous tumult is exactly the approach writer/director Brian Taylor brings to his horror comedy Mom and Dad.
Why do you want to see it? Because of the unhinged Nicolas Cage. Not just any Nic Cage—the kind who can convincingly sing the Hokey Pokey while demolishing furniture with a sledge hammer.
7. Overlord
Perhaps you don’t know this, but Nazi zombies have a horror genre unto themselves: Shock Waves, Zombie Lake, Dead Snow, Dead Snow 2, Blood Creek. Well, there’s a new Nazi Zombie Sheriff in town, and he is effing glorious.
Overlord drops us into enemy territory on D-Day. One rag tag group of American soldiers needs to disable the radio tower the Nazis have set up on top of a rural French church, disabling Nazi communications and allowing our guys to land safely.
What’s on the church tower is not so much the problem. It’s what’s in the basement.
A satisfying Good V Evil film that benefits from layers, Overlord reminds us repeatedly that it is possible to retain your humanity, even in the face of inhuman evil.
Plus, Nazi zombies, which is never not awesome!
6. Revenge
The rape-revenge film is a tough one to pull off. Even in the cases where the victim rips bloody vengeance through the bodies of her betrayers, the films are too often titillating. Almost exclusively written and directed by men for a primarily male audience, the comeuppance angle can be so bent by the male gaze that the film feels more like an additional violation.
Well, friends, writer/director Coralie Fargeat changes all that with Revenge, a breathless, visually fascinating, bloody-as-hell vengeance flick that repays the viewer for her endurance. (His, too.)
Fargeat’s grasp of male entitlement and the elements of a rape culture are as sharp as her instincts for visual storytelling. Wildly off-kilter close-ups sandwich gorgeous vistas to create a dreamlike frame for the utterly brutal mess of a film unfolding.
Symbol-heavy but never pretentious or preachy, the film follows a traditional path—she is betrayed, she is underestimated, she repays her assailants for their toxic masculinity. But between Fargeat’s wild aesthetic, four very solid performances, and thoughtful yet visceral storytelling, the film feels break-neck, terrifying and entirely satisfying.
5. Halloween
David Gordon Green’s direct sequel is, above all things, a mash note to the original. Visual odes continually call back to Carpenter, often in ways that allude to an intriguing about-face the film is leading to.
Kills—more numerous and grisly than the first go round—are often handled offscreen, just the wet thud or slice of the deed to enlighten us until the corpse gets a quick showcase. The result is a jumpy, fun, “don’t go in there!” experience reminiscent of the best of the genre.
The film takes it up a notch in its final reel, as tables turn, panic rooms open and cop heads become Jack-o-lanterns. The result is a respectful, fun and creepy experience meant to be shared with a crowd.
4. A Quiet Place
Damn. John Krasinski. That big, tall guy, kind of doughy-faced? Married to Emily Blunt? Dude can direct the shit out of a horror movie.
Krasinski plays the patriarch of a close-knit family trying to survive the post-alien-invasion apocalypse by staying really, really quiet. The beasts use sound to hunt, but the family is prepared. The cast, anchored by Krasinski’s on-and-off-screen wife Emily Blunt is amazing. That you may expect.
What you may not expect is Krasinski’s masterful direction: where and when the camera lingers or cuts away, how often and how much he shows the monsters, when he decides the silence will generate the most dread and when he chooses to let Marco Beltrami’s ominous score do that work for him.
It’s smart in the way it’s written, sly in its direction and spot-on in its ability to pile on the mayhem in the final reel without feeling gimmicky or silly.
3. Mandy
Writer/director Panos Cosmatos’s hallucinogenic fever dream of social, political and pop-culture subtexts layered with good old, blood-soaked revenge, Mandy throws enough visionary strangeness on the screen to dwarf even Nicolas Cage in full freakout mode.
Like Cosmatos’s 2010 debut Beyond the Black Rainbow, Mandy is both formally daring and wildly borrowed. While Black Rainbow, also set in 1983, shines with the antiseptic aesthetic of Cronenberg or Kubrick, Mandy feels more like something snatched from a Dio album cover.
Cosmatos blends ingredients from decades-spanning indie horror into a stew that tastes like nothing else.
Surrender to it.
2. Suspiria
Luca Guadagnino continues to be a master film craftsman. Much as he draped Call Me by Your Name in waves of dreamy romance, here he establishes a consistent mood of nightmarish goth. Macabre visions dart in and out like a video that will kill you in 7 days while sudden, extreme zooms, precise sound design and a vivid score from Thom Yorke help cement the homage to another era.
But even when this new Suspiria—a “cover version” of Dario Argento’s 1974 gaillo classic—is tipping its hat, Guadagnino leaves no doubt he is making his own confident statement. The color scheme is intentionally muted, and you’ll find no men in this dance troupe, serving immediate notice that superficialities are not the endgame here.
1. Hereditary
Grief and guilt color every somber, shadowy frame of writer/director Ari Aster’s unbelievably assured feature film debut, Hereditary.
With just a handful of mannerisms, one melodic clucking noise, and a few seemingly throwaway lines, Aster and his magnificent cast quickly establish what will become nuanced, layered human characters, all of them scarred and battered by family.
Art and life imitate each other to macabre degrees while family members strain to behave in the manner that feels human, seems connected, or might be normal. What is said and what stays hidden, what’s festering in the attic and in the unspoken tensions within the family, it’s all part of a horrific atmosphere meticulously crafted to unnerve you.
Aster takes advantage of a remarkably committed cast to explore family dysfunction of the most insidious type. Whether his supernatural twisting and turning amount to metaphor or fact hardly matters with performances this unnerving and visual storytelling this hypnotic.
