Nutritious, Too!

Yummy

by Hope Madden

Hey, are you squeamish?

Does Shudder have the movie for you!

It’s hard to do zombies well anymore. Mainly, you have to either come up with an entirely novel concept or hope that the bloody mayhem works in your favor.

In Yummy, the concept is only marginally original, but the bloody mayhem is more than on target. Co-writer/director Lars Damoiseaux assaults your gag reflex with a viscous mess of a horror flick. Blood and entrails, of course, but expect a pretty inspired use of pus, liquid body fat, tendons and other tissues and goos.

It makes for some slick surfaces, I tell you what! Plus some unexpected little monsters keep things interesting and fun.

Set inside a cut-rate Eastern European cosmetic surgery clinic, the film follows a mother, daughter and her boyfriend into a very bad decision. Mom (Annick Christiaens) is after a series of nips and tucks; daughter Alison (Maaike Neuville) wants breast reduction; boyfriend Michael (Bart Hollanders) is just a good dude willing to drive everyone even though he’s afraid of blood.

Here is a ripe premise for horror. Mom is a Cronenberg-esque vehicle for body horror as well as vanity shaming. Alison provides comedic possibilities (no one in the clinic can begin to understand her point of view). Hemophobic Michael offers the clear hero’s arc. (Or he’ll simply die of shock by the gooey second reel.)

And no, it’s not incredibly novel—zombie movies so rarely are. But it’s smart, witty and fun. Damoiseaux accomplishes much with his budget. Practical effects are great, performances are delightful, and nothing beats a little well placed Stooges. (The band, not the knuckleheads.)

Yummy represents Damoiseaux’s feature debut as director and writer, but he’s garnered attention and awards for years with his work in shorts. Award winning co-writer Eveline Hagenbeek (Rokjesdag) channels her affinity for conversational comedy into a script that may follow a familiar structure but delivers a believable, funny edge that the game ensemble takes advantage of.

Their collaboration is no masterpiece, but it is a lot of sloppy fun.

Millennial Problems

Daddy Issues

by Cat McAlpine

Henrietta (Kimberley Datnow) is fumbling through life as an almost stand-up comedian in her mid-20s. She’s not very tactful, she’s definitely a mess, and she can’t address a group of people without holding a prop microphone (or pencil). Also, her dad just died.

Skyping into her father’s funeral with her one-night stand in tow seems like the tip of Henrietta’s daddy issues iceberg.

But we never learn about Henrietta’s father or her relationship with him. He leaves her his LA home, trusts her with a board position at his company, and writes her an ominous letter threatening that if she can’t turn things around, his whole life will have been wasted. Henri proceeds to drink and smoke her way through the rest of the film, bumbling about without making too many revelations or relationships.

Penned by John Cox and Amy Datnow, the story follows three different college friends as they try to figure out what they want. Henrietta is taking another stab at comedy. Alice (Alice Carroll Johnson) waffles in her relationship and tries to find a new career in the gig economy. Nolan (Tanner Rittenhouse) has taken 5 years to finish a deck project and can’t get his girlfriend to take him seriously. While all three characters build relationships with one another, they rarely connect to discuss or help with each other’s struggles. This general lack of connection and fluidity plagues the whole of Daddy Issues.

The story lacks momentum. Moments meant to be absurd or wacky stay dry, shot and edited with the same pace as the lonely and sad portions of the film. The funniest moments are often small asides that feel like improv from secondary characters.

Director Laura Holliday’s experience is mainly in shorts, as you might guess. She focuses well on small moments, like a brewing cup of tea, but loses pace in bigger scenes.

Daddy Issues spends too much time being lost in itself, and we miss most of the resolutions. Other important moments come too late in the story and feel rushed. While it skillfully captures the essence of being at a loss with what comes next, the film suffers from the same nervous halting as its protagonists. 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=U2ziO0I_RD8

Fright Club: Best Cinematography

A poetry of dread – that’s what the best in this business can conjure with the right framing, movement, stillness. Whether it’s Dick Pope creating that just-off feel of bucolic 1950s Idaho for The Reflecting Skin or Owen Roizman forever narrowing the screen, our gaze and our options in The Exorcist, the cinematographer is horror’s true master. Mike Giolakis kept us looking around us and behind us to see where the monster might be in It Follows. John Alcott (The Shining), Chung-hoon Chung (The Handmaiden) and Mo-gae Lee (A Tale of Two Sisters) haunted and mesmerized us with color, movement and atmosphere. Has anybody done it better?

Here are our nominees for the best cinematography in horror.

5. Kwaidan (1964) – Yoshio Miyajima

Gorgeous. If you’re looking for something theatrical, a true marriage between cinematography and set design, Masaki Kobayashi’s Oscar nominee Kwaidan delivers the goods.

Yoshi Miyajima lenses four different ghost stories, each almost entirely shot on highly decorated sound stages, and what he captures is the feeling of make believe that gives each story the sense that it is being told, being embellished for your spooky enjoyment.

Each story is given its own look, its own personality. It’s bold and memorable filmmaking, and an absolute sight to behold.

4. Antichrist (2009) – Anthony Dod Mantle

Whether it’s the utter poetry of the opening tragedy, the claustrophobic dread of the middle section, or the lurking menace of the final reels, Antichrist is an absolute treasure trove of emotional manipulation.

At times, Anthony Dod Mantle’s cinematography feels at odds with the actual content on the screen—particularly in Act 1. But mining for beauty in pain is one of many ways director Lars von Trier succeeds in surprising and horrifying with this film.

Mantle finds a terrifying beauty in ugly thing von Trier throws at you, and the end result is a mesmerizing and brutal work.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w4U5rdi9w-U&t=20s

3. Nosferatu (1922) – Fritz Arno Wagner

We needed to pay our respects to some of the earliest and most memorable work in cinema. Why F.W. Murnau’s Nosferatu? Because nearly 100 years later, there are still images that haunt your dreams.

Fritz Arno Wagner (who also lensed Fritz Lang’s glorious M) capitalizes on the unseemly, vermin-like look of Count Orlock (Max Schreck, genius) with creeping silhouettes, lurking shadows, and camera angles that emphasized his hideousness.

Whether it’s the shocking rise from the coffin, the shadow on the staircase, or the image of the sole survivor of the ship recently decimated by “the plague,” Murnau and Wagner’s images are as evocative today as they were in ’22.

2. The Lighthouse (2019) – Jarin Blaschke

The atmosphere is thick and brisk as sea fog, immersing you early with Oscar nominee Jarin Blasche’s chilly black and white cinematography and a Damian Volpe sound design echoing of loss and one persistent, ominous foghorn.

Director/co-writer Robert Eggers follows The Witch, his incandescent 2015 feature debut, with another painstakingly crafted, moody period piece. The Lighthouse strands you, along with two wickies, on the unforgiving island home of one lonely 1890s New England lighthouse.

Salty sea dog Thomas Wake (Willem Dafoe) keeps the light, mind ye. He also handles among the most impressive briny soliloquies delivered on screen in a lifetime. Joining him as second is one Ephraim Winslow (Robert Pattinson)—aimless, prone to self-abuse, disinclined to appreciate a man’s cooking.

1. Pan’s Labyrinth (2006) – Guillermo Navarro

In 2006, Guillermo Del Toro’s masterpiece may have somehow been overlooked as Oscar’s Best Foreign Language Film, but at least the Academy had the common sense to notice Guillermo Navarro’s cinematography.

He manages to create an atmosphere equally imaginative and bitterly realistic, something befitting a child’s logic. Like a fairy tale, the screen blends the magical beauty of good and evil. His vision is as hypnotic as it needs to be, as childlike as we need it to be. It’s beautiful, innocent and utterly heartbreaking.

You’ll Wish You Had

You Should Have Left

by Hope Madden

Most weeks there’s at least one streaming movie option that will cost you. These are ostensibly the films that were meant to be theatrical releases, as opposed to your garden variety direct-to-streaming options. The idea is that you’re paying a premium to get to see it now, rather than waiting for theaters to open up.

It’ll be interesting to see how long this tactic lasts, but one thing is for sure: You Should Have Left is not worth $20.

Always likeable, always reliable Kevin Bacon reteams with his Stir of Echoes writer/director David Koepp to bring Daniel Kehlmann’s novel to the screen.

Bacon plays Theo, a man with a past and a much younger wife (Amanda Seyfried), Susanna. She’s a sought after actress and he’s feeling a little neglected, so they decide to spend the three weeks between her shoots with their 6-year-old Ella (Avery Tiiu Essex) in a remote rental property one of them found online.

Which one found it, though?

From the early dream sequences to the small town shopkeep with an accent, an attitude and a secret to—well, hell, every single thing—You Should Have Left squeezes the life out of standard horror tropes.

Not that this is horror, really. It’s certainly not scary. I wouldn’t call it a thriller, either, assuming those have to thrill at some point. Nope, it’s just a boring, predictable waste of talent.

Seyfried, in particular, elevates her stale character, sharing a believably conflicted lived-in chemistry with Bacon. Uncharacteristically, it’s Bacon who struggles.

Theo’s internal conflict is weakly depicted, his arc equally anemic, and for that reason, his epiphany feels unearned. The actor does develop a lovely onscreen relationship with Essex, although she’s asked to do little more than look pensive.

Or maybe she was bored. Hard to blame her when Koepp works so hard to make the film tedious. Uninspired sound design and mediocre FX blend together with the filmmaker’s hum drum storytelling to betray a tiresome lack of imagination.

No way Universal believes they deserve your $20 for this.

Phenomenal Woman

Miss Juneteenth

by Rachel Willis

When Turquoise (Nicole Beharie of TV’s Sleepy Hollow) enters her teenage daughter, Kai (newcomer Alexis Chikaeze), in the Miss Juneteenth pageant, she is optimistic Kai will win. Turquoise herself was a Miss Juneteenth winner fifteen years previously.

For those unfamiliar with the Juneteenth holiday, writer/director Channing Godfrey Peoples weaves an explanation and short history into the film at relevant moments. You’ll quickly understand the importance of this holiday, not only in the film’s setting of Ft. Worth, Texas, but in the greater black community.

If you are anticipating a film about the ins and outs of pageants, you won’t find it. Yes, there is some focus on the pageant, but mostly, this is a film about mothers and daughters.

Turquoise is the focus. Beharie and Peoples create a lot of empathy for a black, single mother trying to make it work.

There are numerous layers to Turquoise’s life. She’s separated from her husband, Kai’s father Ronnie (Kendrick Sampson), although he’s still around. It’s clear Turquoise loves Ronnie, but he’s disappointed her in the past.

The film’s strength is the way it lets this story unfold organically. As the plot takes us forward, we learn more about the connections between characters—small, intimate moments conveying vast amounts of information.

And the film’s main relationship, the one between Turquoise and Kai, is one of the most tender mother-daughter relationships you’ll find. Beharie and Chikaeze have a winning chemistry that completely roots the audiences in Turquoise and Kai’s relationship.

Of course the characters butt heads, but the conflict is secondary to the loving bond the two women share. Turquoise maintains a hard line with her daughter because she wants Kai to do better in life than she did. Though Kai at times resents this, she seems to understand her mother’s intentions. When Kai finds ways to push back against her authoritarian mother, you are never in doubt of Kai’s love for Turquoise, she simply wants to be her own woman.

The film also delivers a realistic view of poverty. Whenever Turquoise gains financial ground, something happens to pull the rug out from under her, leaving her with questions like whether to pay her late electric bill or the registration fee for the Miss Juneteenth pageant. Turquoise will always invest in her daughter’s future.

Turquoise has a supportive community around her, a cast of characters who round out the story nicely, and when life tries to knock her down, she will get back up with the help of those around her.

As we approach the 155th anniversary of Juneteenth, this is a film worth seeing.

Quietly Irredeemable

7500

by Hope Madden

7500, the emergency code for an airplane hijacking, is the title of the feature debut for writer/director Patrick Vollrath. An Oscar-nominated and much lauded filmmaker of shorts, Vollrath and his lead, Joseph Gordon-Levitt, prove fine instincts for building tension while maintaining understatement in a film that probably just shouldn’t have been made.

Gordon-Levitt plays Tobias Ellis, co-pilot of a German aircraft on its way to Paris. When Muslim terrorists attempt to overtake the plane, Tobias finds himself in the unenviable position of refusing their demands and witnessing the havoc they wreak.

We haven’t really seen JGL since Oliver Stone’s mediocre 2016 biopic Snowden. (He’s done a lot of voice work since, but we haven’t seen him.) But there was a time when the ageless actor (he’ll be 40 in February but he’s still playing baby faced 30-year-olds) appeared in almost every interesting film being released: Inception, The Dark Night Rises, Looper. And then came his own debut as writer/director: Don Jon—the best antidote for a romantic comedy perhaps ever.

Since then, even when his performance is solid (and it usually is), his film choice is not.

There are some exceptional reasons for the actor to show us his face again in 7500. The role offers clear, no doubt fascinating challenges. Much of the film is a one-man-show, and more intriguingly, the actor and filmmaker work together to ensure that this hero is as dialed-down and honest as he can be.

Vollrath’s film never revels in vengeance, never lusts after opportunities for comeuppance. And the downplayed emotion, the minutia of flying, the fear—all elements generally discarded in your Big Heroic Movie—give this film an unexpected air of humility.

Better still is the savvy use of limited vision, the claustrophobic nature of air travel, the confinement of the hero to ratchet up tensions.

And yet.

For its subdued, humble approach, 7500 is a white savior film about an American man protecting those in his care from scary brown people. It picks a scab that’s been fingered to death, offers no real new take and absolutely no excuse for its choice of antagonist.

This isn’t a true story. Vollrath could have imagined absolutely anyone to be hijacking this plane, and the subtlety of the filmmaking feels even more insidious because of his choice. No swelling strings, glib one-liners, flying flags or bombast mark this as pandering white supremacy.

That doesn’t mean it isn’t.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-jq1dEv-yEM

The Other Woman

My Darling Vivian

by George Wolf

Imagine if the world thought your father was one half of an all-time great love story, but the other half wasn’t your mother.

You’d probably want people to know her story, too.

Director Matt Riddlehoover lets the four daughters of Johnny Cash and Vivian Liberto remove the shadow that has long obscured their mother’s life. In the endlessly endearing My Darling Vivian, we’re introduced to a woman of great strength and grace, and an intimate story that reinforces both the power and pain of love.

Johnny and Vivian met as teenagers in Texas, writing passionate letters while he was away as an Air Force cadet, then marrying young and immediately starting a family before his legendary music career exploded.

Whether by necessity or choice, Riddlehoover interviews Rosanne, Tara, Kathy and Cindy Cash separately, and the result is a wonderful mix of memory and perspective. Rosanne’s remark that the sisters had “four different mothers” rings true as their recollections of youth often bounce off one another with a charming Roshoman-style variety.

The stream of still photos, home movies and excerpts from the nearly one thousand letters (!) Vivian saved presents incredible insight into the sweetness of young love and the increasing demands on the shy and anxiety-prone wife of a superstar.

While Johnny’s constant touring left Vivian alone to care for four children under six years old, the pressures of fame, Cash’s drug use and the shameful accusations about Vivian’s ethnicity all added to the toxic atmosphere. As rumors swirled about Johnny’s involvement with June Carter, news of their parents’ divorce actually came as a relief to the oldest of the Cash sisters.

The memories are often presented with aching detail – coming home from school and seeing fresh dry cleaning meant their mother had not committed suicide that day – and the openness of the family archives is breathtaking. And still, Vivian’s own voice remains absent, haunting much of the film until Riddlehoover plays that hand for maximum effect.

My Darling Vivian is essential to understanding the complete legacy of a cultural icon. But even beyond the celebrity trappings, it is a bittersweet testament to love, to family, and to scars that never quite fade.

And, most of all, it’s a record-straightening ode to a woman well worth knowing.

Marathon Man

Runner

by Seth Troyer

I am basically still on the verge of tears as I write this. Bill Gallagher’s emotional documentary Runner opens with sports coverage of a marathon and slowly zooms in on one man in particular. “Now this particular runner,” says a dorky sportscaster, “has an unbelievable story.”

He doesn’t know the half of it. This is the story of Guor Marial, a Sudanese refugee who went on a journey to become an Olympian. 

As a young boy, Marial runs from hardship to hardship, eventually getting separated from his family, and ultimately finding himself in America. It’s wild to hear Marial’s initial confusion at the absurdity of it all, that something he did to survive in Sudan is something westerners do as a sport. Marial hits the high school track field and metamorphosizes. From there we watch the harsh juxtaposition of this high school dream athlete winning medals while simultaneously struggling with the fact that his family members in Sudan are dying. 

My reservations about macho corporate sports went out the window as I watched this boy running in the name of his faraway home. It’s also a wonderful thing to see journalists, coaches and politicians (mostly white, privileged Americans) one by one lay down their false crowns in awe before this kid who has gone through actual hell and is using his power to reach for nothing less than the Olympic games. 

This is the rare documentary that truly does justice to its incredible hero. It is cinematic to the point where your first reaction might be to think you are watching staged reenactments, but no, this is all real. They have footage of seemingly every moment of Marial’s journey, as well as animation and news footage depicting the hell of war and starvation in Sudan. 

Arguably the film’s most emotional moment occurs when Mrial returns to South Sudan to be reunited with his parents, who he has not seen in years. The moment when his mother, who lost so many of her children, collapses to the ground at the sight of her long lost son is one of the most powerful moments I have ever seen captured by a camera.

This is still only the beginning of the story of the first Olympian from South Sudan: a beautifully human story that is about nothing less than what makes us go, what makes us try, and what makes us run. 

Irregular Checkup

Babyteeth

by George Wolf

Why would a first-time feature director make sure her camera lingers a few extra beats on one of those old karaoke videos where the visuals bear no relation to the lyrics being sung?

Because it’s a sly reinforcement of the abrupt, defiant way that Shannon Murphy is telling the story of Babyteeth, and of the unconventional soul at the heart of the film.

That soul would be Milla (Eliza Scanlen), a seriously ill Australian teen who literally bumps into the 23 year-old Moses (Toby Wallace) while waiting for a tram.

She likes his hair, so he gives her a haircut. She brings him home, and suddenly Milla’s parents (Ben Mendelsohn and Essie Davis) have something new to worry about.

“That boy has problems!” Mom shouts.

Milla answers, “So do I!”

True enough, and Rita Kalnejais delivers a debut screenplay that embraces the tough and the tender while taking us inside a fraying family dynamic.

Mom Anna used to be a impressive pianist, but she struggles to stay off pills and keep her tears at bay. Dad Henry is a psychiatrist who handles Milla’s illness in a more pragmatic fashion while he develops a strange fixation on the pregnant neighbor (Emily Barclay).

Mendelsohn and Davis are customarily excellent, each reinforcing the different ways that grief can manifest itself, often pulling them closer and increasing their distance in equal measure. In lesser hands, the eccentricities of these characters could have dissolved into caricature or misguided comic relief, but Mendelsohn and Davis each bring a weary stoicism that keeps both parents grounded.

Scanlen, fresh off playing Beth in last year’s glorious revision of Little Women, is completely transfixing as a girl impatient to experience life. The more Milla is reminded of her sickness, the more she rebels, and Scanlen finds a mix of courage and fear that never feels false.

The whiff of death in coming-of-age dramas has often been reduced to manipulative claptrap, but Murphy takes a bulldozer to that notion with an ambitious narrative that does not allow you to get comfortable.

She introduces themes using chapter titles (some generic, some genuinely touching), transitions very abruptly and leaves some matters unexplained. Murphy’s approach is uniquely assured, requiring our attention but rewarding our emotional investment, as the few mawkish leanings are swept away by the film’s wickedly perverse sense of humor.

After years of directing shorts and TV episodes, Murphy lands on the big screen as a vibrant new voice. Like Milla, she is setting her own pace in the search for the beauty in life, and Babyteeth finds that beauty in unexpected places.