People like to make lists. For some people, it’s a bucket list. Some like to keep track of the celebrities they are allowed to sleep with if the opportunity arises. Not me.
Years ago I put together my zombie survival team. And though I know plenty of people with varied and worthy skills, making my team mainly came down to two things. Are you smart? Are you quiet? Because it is the introverts of the world who will survive the zombie apocalypse.
Director Dominique Rocher’s unusually titled The Night Eats the World understands this.
Sam (Anders Danielsen Lie) reluctantly stops by his ex’s party to collect his things. It is a loud, raucous event and Sam is in no mood. He stands moping alone until finally he wanders into a quiet back office, locks the door to the partygoers and waits.
By morning, Sam may be the only living human left in Paris.
The majority of the film quietly follows Sam through the apartment building as he fortifies his position, spends his time, survives. It’s a pleasantly pragmatic approach to the zombie film, although it asks many of the same questions Romero asked in Dawn of the Dead.
In fact, TNETW sometimes bears an amazing resemblance to the underseen German zombie flick Rammbock: Berlin Undead. (It’s great. You should see it.)
There’s a lot going on here that’s fresh, though. Rarely is a zombie film this introspective or a horror hero this thoughtful. More than that, though, Rocher’s horror is a meditation on loneliness.
Not only is that an unusual topic for horror, it’s delivered with the kind of touching restraint that’s almost inconceivable in this genre.
Danielsen Lie, in what nearly amounts to a one-man-show, never lets you down and never feels showy. Sam is a man who is maybe too at home with the situation in a film that quietly asks, just what has to happen before a true introvert longs for human companionship?
That’s why they’ll outlast us. It’ll just be a few dozen socially uncomfortable loners skilled at closing themselves off from the chaos around them. Plus Keith Richards.
Candid. Messy. Bloody, even. There are a number of
adjectives you could use to describe Saint Francis, an indie dramedy
from director Alex Thompson and writer/star Kelly O’Sullivan. Precious is not
one of them.
That fact in itself is maybe victory enough given that the
film concerns a lost, underachieving millennial (“I’m on the cusp!”) who finds
her way with the help of the 5-year-old (Ramona Edith Williams, unreasonably
cute) she nannies over the summer.
That could have been a recipe for precocious, heartstring-tugging disaster. I can say without reservation that Saint Frances is not that. There’s definitely too much menstrual blood and abortion humor, first of all.
For the bulk of the film, Bridget (O’Sullivan) is a terrible
person, a selfish fuck up, which makes Saint Frances groundbreaking in
its own way. It’s so uncommon, the Peter Pan effect as embodied by a female.
They always make us Wendys.
O’Sullivan’s version is never the uproarious riot of Amy Schumer’s
Trainwreck, or the introspective yet raucous Obvious Child. And
while comparisons to those two crowd pleasing genre busters are clear, Saint
Frances really is its own beast—one that abandons formula in favor of often
unpleasant reality and a sometimes delightful mean streak.
O’Sullivan—both as writer and as lead—brings a kind of deadpan wisdom to the already well-worn idea of directionless adult forced to face adulthood by a spunky youngster. Part of the film’s glory is its very untidiness, both structural and visual.
Thompson, showing solid instincts with his feature debut,
does cave once or twice to overt convention (let’s call it “the juice box
montage”), and the unstoppably supportive Jace (Max Lipchitz) is less a
character than he is a vehicle for growth.
Still, for raw, sloppy honesty, you’re not likely to find a better candidate.
Okay, so we can’t go out to get our Irish on this year. Here are some great ideas for celebrating at home!
Song of the Sea (2014)
This Academy Award nominated watercolored dream mixes modern day with Irish
folklore to spin the yarn of a wee selkie and the brother who begrudgingly
loves her. Magical, sweet, charming and funny, it’s a treat parents will enjoy
at least as much as their kids. It should have won the Oscar.
The Secret of the Kells (2009)
Pair it with director Tomm Moore’s first Oscar nominee, the gorgeous Celtic
poem The Secret of Kells. Moore’s talent for blending everyday
challenges with ancient magic is again at work as we shadow young Brendan
through the riotous color and animated details of the enchanted forest outside
the medieval abby where he lives. It’s another visually stunning bit of
animation that’s as compelling to adults as it is to children.
Knuckle (2011)
James
Quinn McDonagh cuts an enigmatic presence through the bloody world of Irish
Traveler bare knuckle “fairfights” in Ian Palmer’s documentary Knuckle.
The unbeaten pride of the Quinn McDonaghs, James takes on challengers from the
feuding Joyce clan. Unfortunately, each win quells the action only briefly, as
family members’ chest thumping and boasting reignite the feud, and another
challenge is made. Palmer aims to illustrate the culture that fuels rather than
overcomes its grudges, due in equal measure to unchecked bravado and finance
(wagers bring in fast money for the winning clan). Filming for more than a
decade, Palmer uncovers something insightful about the Traveler culture, and
perhaps about masculinity or warmongering at its most basic.
The Guard (2011)
Then
to a lighthearted look at drugs and crime on the Emerald Isle. Writer/director
John Michael McDonagh assembles a dream cast anchored by the ever-reliable
Brendan Gleeson to wryly articulate a tale of underestimation and police
corruption in this very Irish take on the buddy cop movie. Through Gleeson,
McDonagh shares a dark, philosophical yet silly humor, crafts almost slapstick
action, and offers a view of hired guns as workaday folk. The Guard is a
celebration of tart Irish humor and character; the actual plot merely provides
the playground for the fun.
Calvary (2014)
McDonagh
and Gleeson return three years later in Calvary.
The endlessly wonderful Gleeson plays Fr. Michael, a dry-witted but deeply
decent priest who has a week to get his affairs in order while a parishoner
plans to kill him. Sumptuously filmed and gorgeously written, boasting as much
world-weary humor as genuine insight, it’s an amazing film and a performance
that should not be missed.
Once (2006)
You
can’t celebrate St. Pat’s without some music. In Once, an Irish street
musician fixes vacuums by day and dreams of heading to London in search of a
recording contract. His unpredictable relationship with a Czech immigrant
becomes the needed catalyst. Writer/director John Carney creates a lovely
working man’s Dublin in a film blessed with sparkling performances from
heretofore unknown leads Glen Hansard and Marketa Irglova. Their chemistry and
their music are the heart of the film. This immensely charming slice of life
picture, superbly crafted with tender realism, also boasts an honest,
understated screenplay, and undoubtedly the best soundtrack of 2006.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FWJIylZ8VyM
The Commitments (1991)
Jimmy
Rabbitte intends to manage the greatest soul band in the world, so he hand
crafts The Commitments, a Dublin-based, all white, blue collar soul band the
likes of which Ireland has never seen. (The band includes Hansard again, much
younger and with a magnificent ‘fro.) Alan Parker’s “behind the music” style tale
of the rise and fall of a band is as charming, energetic and great sounding a
way to spend St. Patrick’s Day as you will find.
Nobody wants to go out, and even if you did, there is nowhere to go. So, hunker down and let us help you find something to watch. Here’s what’s new in home entertainment.
As we salute the tireless work of our great doctors and health care workers during this uneasy time, Fright Club looks at our favorite “bad doctors” in horror!
5. Herbert West, Re-Animator (1985)
Stuart Gordon’s Re-Animator reinvigorated the Frankenstein
storyline in a decade glutted with vampire films. Based, as so many
fantasy/horror films are, on the work of H. P. Lovecraft, Re-Animator
boasts a good mix of comedy and horror, some highly subversive ideas, and one
really outstanding villain.
Jeffrey Combs, with his intense gaze and pout, his ability to mix comic
timing with epic self righteousness without turning to caricature, carries the
film beginning to end. His Dr. Herbert West has developed a day-glo serum that
reanimates dead tissue, but a minor foul up with his experimentations – some
might call it murder – sees him taking his studies to the New England medical
school Miskatonic University. There he rents a room and basement laboratory
from handsome med student Dan Caine (Bruce Abbott).
They’re not just evil scientists. They’re also really bad doctors.
Re-Animator is fresh. It’s funny and shocking, and though most
performances are flat at best, those that are strong more than make up for it.
First-time director Gordon’s effort is superb. He glories in the macabre fun of
his scenes, pushing envelopes and dumping gallons of blood and gore. He
balances anxiety with comedy, mines scenes for all they have to give, and takes
you places you haven’t been.
4. Beverly and Elliot Mantle, Dead Ringers, (1988)
This film is about separation anxiety, with the effortlessly melancholy
Jeremy Irons playing a set of gynecologist twins on a downward spiral.
Writer/director David Cronenberg doesn’t consider this a horror film at all.
Truth is, because the twin brothers facing emotional and mental collapse are
gynecologists, Cronenberg is wrong.
Take, for instance, the scene with the middle aged woman in stirrups, camera
on her face, which is distorted with discomfort. Irons’s back is to the screen,
her bare foot to his left side. Clicking noises distract you as the doctor
works away. We pan right to a tray displaying the now-clearly-unstable doctor’s
set of hand-fashioned medical instruments. Yikes.
Irons is brilliant, bringing such flair and, eventually, childlike charm to
the performances you feel almost grateful. The film’s pace is slow and its
horror subtle, but the uncomfortable moments are peculiarly, artfully
Cronenberg.
2. Dr. Heiter, The Human Centipede (First Sequence) (2009)
After a handful of middling Dutch comedies, Tom Six stumbled upon inspiration – 100% medically accurate inspiration. Yes, we mean the Human Centipede. Just the First Sequence makes the list, though.
For a lot of viewers, the Human Centipede films are needlessly gory and over-the-top with no real merit. But for some, Six is onto something. His first effort uses a very traditional horror storyline – two pretty American girls have a vehicular break down and find peril – and takes that plot in an unusual direction. But where most horror filmmakers would finish their work as the victims wake up and find themselves sewn together, mouth to anus, this is actually where Six almost begins.
Although the film mines something primal about being helpless in the hands of surgeons and doctors, it’s Dieter Laser and his committed, insane performance that elevates this film. That and your own unholy desire to see what happens to the newly conjoined tourists.
2. Dr. Genessier, Eyes Without a Face (1960)
The formula behind this film has been stolen and reformulated for dozens of
lurid, low-brow exploitation films since 1960. In each, there is a mad doctor
who sees his experiments as being of a higher order than the lowly lives they
ruin; the doctor is assisted by a loyal, often non-traditionally attractive
(some might say handsome) nurse; there are nubile young women who will soon be
victimized, as well as a cellar full of the already victimized. But somehow, in
this originator of that particular line of horror, the plot works seamlessly.
An awful lot of that success lies in the remarkable performances. Pierre Brasseur, as the stoic surgeon torn by guilt and weighed down by insecurities about his particular genius, brings a believable, subtle egomania to the part seldom seen in a mad scientist role.
Still, the power in the film is in the striking visuals that are the trademark of giant French filmmaker Georges Franju. His particular genius in this film gave us the elegantly haunting image of Dr. Genessier’s daughter Christiane (Edith Scob). Her graceful, waiflike presence haunts the entire film and elevates those final scenes to something wickedly sublime.
1. Hannibal Lecter, The Silence of the Lambs (1991)
Who else but Hannibal the Cannibal?
Anthony Hopkins’s eerie calm, his measured speaking, his
superior grin give Lecter power. Everything about his performance reminds the
viewer that this man is smarter than you and he’ll use that for dangerous ends.
He’s toying with you. You’re a fly in his web – and what he will do to you hits
at our most primal fear, because we are, after all, all part of a food chain.
by George Wolf (originally published 4/12/2012 in The Other Paper)
It’s rude, it’s crude, it’s vulgar, crass and brutal. And I enjoyed the hell out of Goon.
Should Mom be worried?
It’s also a sports movie, full of all the usual cliches. Credit the sheer joy of the filmmakers, then, for the way it entertains its way right through them. These guys are childish, sure, but they’re also funny, and smart enough to celebrate their sport with a reckless abandon that becomes infectious.
The script, based on a book about the exploits of former hockey enforcer Doug Smith, comes courtesy of Evan Goldberg (co-writer of Superbad) and Jay Baruchel (star of She’s Out of My League). It follows the heroic rise of lovable Doug Glatt (Seann William Scott, from the American Pie series), a bar bouncer whose face-punching skills earn him a new career as a minor league “goon.”
Doug’s an outcast in his well-to-do family, and a bit of a simpleton with a gentle soul, at least until it’s go time. Scott, who’s made a living being funny and likable regardless of the material, breaks out of his “Stifler” persona with a fine performance. He’s most effective when opposite Liev Schreiber, menacingly good as an aging goon on the way out.
Throw in able support from Alison Pill as Doug’s possible girlfriend, and Sons of Anarchy‘s Kim Coates as the coach, and there’s some actual acting to be found here among all the dick jokes and flying teeth.
Goldberg, Baruchel and director Michael Dowse revel in the locker room antics and on-ice brutality. Through it all, they’re also sly enough to cast a satirical glance in the direction of the “fighting is ruining the sport” crowd.
Maybe nothing can replace the Hanson Brothers and their suitcase full of toys from Slap Shot, but Goon gives a new generation a bawdy hockey flick to call its own.
Chris Pine plays against type in this 2009 pandemic horror
currently streaming on most platforms including Netflix.
Pine plays Brian, a hardened young man who believes he may
be immune to the virus that has decimated the global population. But, just to
be safe, he chalks his survival up to a handful of rules he keeps. He also
enforces these rules with three fellow survivors: his girlfriend Bobby (Piper
Perabo), his little brother Dany (Lou Taylor Pucci), and Danny’s friend Kate (Emily
VanCamp).
Following Brian’s rules to the letter (or else), the four
cross the country in search of the childhood vacation destination the boys feel
sure is a safe, quiet place to ride out the apocalypse.
Writers/directors/brothers David and Alex Pastor tread some
familiar territory here, but their even-handed approach and ear for authentic
relationships make for an involving and ultimately moving horror. Character behaviors
rarely challenge believability, and the performances suit characters who’ve
been dealing with this problem and with each other longer than the audience is
aware.
There’s a natural pull between Danny and Bobby: the desire
to just survive and the dread of surviving alone, a reluctance to do the wrong
thing and yet an even stronger reluctance to wind up the sole survivor.
Character relationships have a real lived-in quality, which
gives the film an emotional heft you may not be ready for. Pine, in particular,
excels in a role quite unlike those he’s more famous for.
The body horror is effective, but it’s not the real source
of horror.
As in all outbreak/infestation/apocalyptic flicks from the earliest Romero to the upcoming Quiet Place 2, this film understands that desperate humans are at least as dangerous as the cause of the pandemic. Interestingly, run-ins with other survivors, both the good and the bad kind, are played in Carriers with a real mixture of terror and sympathy. It’s one of the many reasons that the film delivers a harder emotional punch than you might be expecting.
Jeremy Camp is a good big brother,
loves to play guitar, and is headed to college. His first day on campus he
meets one of his Christian rock idols and locks eyes with a girl who captures
his undivided attention. We follow his resulting journey through young
adulthood in I Still Believe.
There are two important things you
should know going into this film. First, it is based on a true story. And
second, the final screen shows a hotline that you can call if you have
questions about your faith or God. Being tied to a specific sequence of events
and having a specific agenda limit the story, and ultimately deny it any true
depth.
We never get to truly know the characters in I Still Believe. What they like, what they want, what their hopes or dreams are… When asked what she wants to do when she graduates college, Melissa (Britt Robertson) responds “I don’t know…everything?” We never learn what anyone, even Jeremy, has enrolled in school to do.
Jeremy never seems to make any other friends at college, and instead aggressively pursues Melissa in a way so straightforward that even the charming KJ Apa (Riverdale, The Last Summer) can’t hide all the red flags. Every character is wholly defined by their relationship with God. Either they believe, and events continue to happen to them, or they feel doubt, in which case they break some things in emotional torment before events continue to happen to them. The narrative plays out like a toddler retelling a long story “And then, and then, and then, and then….”
The original story is heartbreaking, filled with devotion to your loved ones, the power of faith, and how to continue being the person you want to be when your questions go unanswered. But that story never has an opportunity to develop because so little of this film focuses on character or relationship. And then, and then, and then…
The film is shot in the the visual style of other Hallmark and faith-inspo productions, all over-saturated golden hour shots. The style is very reminiscent of the “A Dog’s…” series, and coincidentally, Apa and Robertson last acted opposite each other in A Dog’s Purpose.
While Apa and Robertson are both masters of the recent “realism” acting style that comes with pauses, repeats, and “ums,” neither has an opportunity to deliver a great performance because of how hard they have to work against the script. Robertson most excels when she gets to interact with more emotional content and her turns in faith and fear anchor the middle third of the film.
Directed by Andrew Erwin and Jon Erwin (The Erwin Brothers), there’s little offensive about the visual style of the film but also very little inspired. The strangest choice was to not update the film to modern time, and instead keep it in what looks like the early 2000s. The time and setting is never explained. I assume the setting is based on the real events, but the story doesn’t need a time-preserved setting, and the presence of flip phones and landlines pull you out of the viewing experience immediately.
I Still Believe is a guilty pleasure film for a specific audience. It doesn’t require any thought, it takes limp stabs at being profound, it sets up easy moments to sneak in a cry, and its real-life roots will make believers feel vaguely inspired. But, you’d be hard pressed to find any critical merit in the production.
“Nobody wants to make any real decisions. They just want to feel like they have.”
For a movie that couldn’t have seen shutdown weekend coming, that’s one line in Bloodshot that feels pretty damn timely.
So whether or not there’s anyone in the theater to greet him, Vin Diesel brings the latest comic book hero to the big screen in a visual effects throwdown searching for any other resonant thread.
If, like me, you’re not familiar with one of the most popular characters in the Valiant comic universe, Ray Garrison (Diesel) is a battle-scarred soldier forced to watch his wife’s murder before he eats a bullet himself.
Waking up in lab of RST industries, Ray hears some hard truths from the brilliant Dr. Harding (Guy Pearce).
He died from that bullet, but he’s back now as the prototype “enhanced soldier” Project Bloodshot has been aiming for. Any injury Ray suffers will repair itself almost instantly, so he can soldier on for war and profit.
Does Ray have trouble accepting his reality? Not enough, which works in a way because the realities keep changing. While Ray only wants to track down his wife’s killer, the vast computer program that keeps Ray upright has surprises in store.
Bloodshot is director David S.F. Wilson’s debut feature after a ton of video game visual effects credits, which is probably why it looks like a giant video game drunk with budget allowances. And though that budget does buy some slick sequences, the film’s Matrix-type mainframe device leans too much on the buzzkill that is the computer keyboard.
Diesel’s guttural emoting is on auto-pilot, while Pearce gets to ham it up a bit and Baby Driver’s Elia Gonzales gets hung out to dry. As a fellow enhanced soldier, her superpowers seem limited to posing, pouting, and squeezing into the tightest wardrobe imaginable.
The screenplay, from the team of Jeff Wardlow and Eric Heisserer, does manage some needed self-aware humor about movie cliches, even as it’s serving them up alongside heavy doses of stilted, expository dialog.
By all means, support your local theater this weekend. And if you’re a fan of the Bloodshot comic, your decision to catch this big screen version will most likely be a good one.
Otherwise, there’s not really enough here to make you feel like it was.
