Tag Archives: Brandon Thomas

Jump Scare

Rippy

by Brandon Thomas

We joke that the Australian Outback is full of animals that want to kill us. From coast to coast, freshwater and saltwater crocodiles, wild dogs, and poisonous snakes and spiders are found. And that’s not even counting the massive Great White Sharks in the waters off Australia’s beaches. But what about the kangaroo? Sure, they’re abnormally buff and can kick like a gymnast on speed, but their reputation – while not entirely cuddly – isn’t aligned with Australia’s “toothier” residents. 

But what if it was a zombie kangaroo? 

I’m listening.

Small town sheriff Maddy (Tess Haubrich) lives in the shadow of her former law enforcement father. Still reeling from her father’s death when she was a child, Maddy strives to be the kind of strong sheriff he was. When several residents turn up ripped to pieces, Maddy’s eccentric uncle Schmitty (Michael Biehn of Aliens and The Terminator) blames a massive kangaroo. While initially hesitant to believe her uncle’s wild story, Maddy begins to suspect something sinister is stalking the outback as more bodies pile up.

Rippy throws a lot at the audience and not everything sticks. There’s a notable attempt at character development that’s given its all by a game cast, but unfortunately, these long monologue-y scenes stop the film dead. Not to say this kind of character work can’t succeed in a creature feature (see Jaws), but the writing and structure of Rippy make these scenes feel out of place and clunky. Still, it’s nice to see Biehn play a character that isn’t the alpha hero, and one that also gets to serve as the comic relief throughout the film. 

Director Ryan Coonan has some exciting ideas for the kangaroo carnage, but the limitations of the creature f/x work end up sucking the life out of these sequences. The exploitation genesis of a project like Rippy feels ripe for gooey, tactile practical effects that are much more forgiving on a limited budget. Understandably, Coonan would go digital for the film’s more ambitious shots, but the overuse of the poorly rendered CGI kangaroo rids the creature of a lot of its menace. 

Disappointing effects work aside, Rippy still gets points for putting a zombie kangaroo on screen. Coonan ends the film with some pretty big hints about where a potential sequel might go. With a few more dollars thrown his way for more impressive creature work, a sequel to Rippy might just jump high enough to get my attention.

Sins of the Father

Betrayal

by Brandon Thomas

Thrillers wrapped in a healthy dose of family drama make me anxious. Issues with your parents, siblings, or other members of the family can be stressful enough without throwing in murder and betrayal. Although, having to listen to your uncle’s political takes at Thanksgiving can be pretty scary too.

Betrayal’s opening scene sees three brothers (Brian Vernel of Star Wars: The Force Awakens, Daniel Portman of Game of Thrones, and Calum Ross of Wednesday) shoot their sadistic father (Paul Higgins of In the Loop) and leave him for dead in a shallow grave in the woods. Short flashbacks show that the brothers had endured years of mental and physical abuse at the hands of their father. As the brothers return to the remote spot where they buried their father, they find the grave empty and also begin to suspect each other and their motives and secrets. 

Betrayal is wrought with tension and suspense from the opening scene. Without sharing the brothers’ horrific past, director Rodger Griffiths injects enough subtle unease and strife between the characters that you instantly understand something is wrong. It’s a level of suspense that never goes away – it only changes as different layers are pulled back as the film approaches its brutal climax. 

Griffiths wryly plays with the “is he or isn’t he” question of whether the father is actually dead. This isn’t Diabolique where that question is central to the overall story. No, the mystery of the father’s ultimate fate is a catalyst to jumpstart violent conflict between the brothers. It’s a clever spin that keeps the audience on an emotional rollercoaster of anxiety and fear. You want the brothers to persevere, but what if in some ways they’re ultimately as monstrous as the father they want dead? 

Higgins steals the show as the family’s brutal patriarch. He plays him as a villain through and through. This guy isn’t a conflicted father dealing with his own trauma and insecurity. No, he relishes putting his sons and wife in their place. He needs to remind them of his position at the head of the family, and he does so with his fists and his words, which sometimes do even more damage. 

Fans of brutal revenge films will find a lot to like with Betrayal. With solid direction, an excellent cast, and a script that throws in some nice surprises, this thriller is one to seek out.

The Great Escape

In the Rearview

by Brandon Thomas

Cinema has always sought to find beauty and humanity in even the worst of times. Wars are often those worst of times. The new documentary In the Rearview seeks to put the spotlight on human stories as war ravages the country of Ukraine. 

A driver, a cameraman, and refugees fleeing their homes: these are the real life characters that exist within In the Rearview’s running time. It’s not a film trying to unravel a great mystery or highlight the life of a famous person. No, this is a film that seeks only to share the stories of people whose entire lives have been upended by war. As the driver traverses dangerous situations, military checkpoints, and damaged roads, the camera captures these people talking about the lives they are leaving behind and the lives they hope to return to.

The despair felt by the people fleeing their home country is palpable. Many are leaving family pets behind or loved ones who are unable to make the journey. It’s devastating to watch families torn apart in real time – not knowing when they might see each other again. 

The footage is matter of fact and presented without sensationalism. The war is only seen through images of bombed bridges, tank tracks, military run checkpoints, and the haunted faces of the van’s passengers. This lack of polish makes In the Rearview stand out from most contemporary documentaries. 

In the Rearview is a riveting look at how the destructive power of war impacts more than just flesh and bone.

Tainted Love

Kill Your Lover

by Brandon Thomas

To say that relationships are ripe for mining when it comes to horror movie material might be the king of all understatements. The complex nature of romantic human relationships involves the entire spectrum of emotions and said emotions tend to burn at their brightest during a courtship’s beginning and at the perilous end. With Kill Your Lover, filmmakers Alix Austin and Keir Siewert have crafted an intimate analogy about what happens when the person you’ve loved for so long changes into something darker. 

Through flashes back and forth from the past to the present, Kill Your Lover tells the story of Dakota (Paige Gilmour) and Axel (Shane Quigley-Murphy). The most passionate portions of their relationship are juxtaposed with the present and Dakota’s feelings that the relationship has run its course. It’s not that simple though, and Axel’s changes have less to do with his personality (or do they?) and more with the sickness overtaking him. 

Austin and Siewert wisely spend the majority of Kill Your Lover’s scant 77 minutes just spending time with Dakota and Axel. It’s easy to see why these two characters would’ve fallen so hard for one another. It’s equally easy to see why Dakota wants to break things off. However, with clever plotting, the film also peels back layers and floats the idea that maybe things weren’t so great in the past either. Gilmour and Quigley-Murphy’s fiery chemistry gives the film a sense of life it might not have with lesser performers. 

Kill Your Lover gets a lot of mileage out of essentially being a single-location film. The isolation of the small apartment only increases the anxiety and tension around the situation Dakota finds herself in. From a character standpoint, the awfulness of Axel’s transformation is mirrored by Dakota’s memories of the good times they shared in the same space. 

Despite being a very character-centric bit of horror filmmaking, Kill Your Lover doesn’t skimp on the carnage. The “creature” (if you will) make-up is icky and gruesome and has an outstanding originality to how it behaves and spreads. Still deeply rooted in story and character, when the battle of wills between Dakota and Axel turns into a physical one, the gooeyness of the film increases tenfold.

By leaning heavily into character and the sometimes claustrophobic nature of spiraling relationships, Kill Your Lover offers an exciting and emotional bit of genre filmmaking.

Go Wester(ern)

The Dead Don’t Hurt

by Brandon Thomas

Leave it to Viggo Mortensen to deliver a western that both cherishes and upends western tropes. Mortensen has made a career of surprising his fans and critics. Even his casting as Aragorn in The Lord of the Rings trilogy was seen as a major surprise and curveball at the time. So it really should come as no surprise that when he directs his first western, it doesn’t quite follow the typical trajectory. 

In The Dead Don’t Hurt (what a great western title, huh?) Mortensen plays Holger Olsen, a stoic cowboy and immigrant from Northern Europe. On a trip to San Francisco, Holger meets Vivienne (Vickey Krieps of Phantom Thread) and the two form an instant connection. Vivienne leaves San Francisco with Holger for his home outside of a ragged desert town. As the Civil War breaks out in the east, Holger leaves his home and Vivienne to assist the Union in the New Mexico and Texas territories. With Holger gone, Vivienne finds herself alone in an alien environment and surrounded by many unscrupulous individuals. 

Westerns have always focused on the extremes of masculinity. Mortensen seems especially interested in tackling the mixture of manhood, dignity, and misplaced duty. As the “good guy”, it’s interesting to see Holger make decisions that on paper seem noble or righteous, but to his family – especially Vivienne – is seen as complete abandonment. It’s a not-so subtle comment that during this time, even the most well-intentioned men were willing to put the women in their life at risk if there was an even greater risk to their manhood. 

Mortensen surrounds himself and Krieps with an excellent supporting cast that includes Garret Dillahunt (No Country for Old Men, The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford), Danny Huston (Children of Men, 30 Days of Night), and W. Earl Brown (Scream, TV’s Deadwood). This isn’t an overly action-filled western, and so much of the excitement from the film comes from these fine actors bouncing off of one another. 

Visually the film feels right at home in the genre. While not reaching the heights of say The Searchers or Once Upon a Time in the West, Mortensen and his cinematographer Marcel Zyskind have clearly set their sights on something “bigger” than the budget would suggest. There’s a classical look to the shot design and staging that doesn’t scream “modern digitally shot low-budget film!”. 

The Dead Don’t Hurt does lose steam as the story reaches its conclusion. While the performances and technical prowess don’t suffer, Mortensen’s script loses focus and instead of ending with a definitive period, the story ends with more of a confused question mark. The disappointment at the finish line is made stronger by how successful the film is up until those final 10 to 15 minutes.

Viggo Mortensen has crafted an interesting and original take on the great American western with The Dead Don’t Hurt. While it doesn’t quite reach the heights of even modern takes on the genre such as the Coens’ True Grit, it is a fascinating film from an exciting and hard to pin down artist.

Grindhouse Grandma

Queen of the Deuce

by Brandon Thomas

New York City in the 1960s and 1970s occupies its own special corner of film history. Films like Taxi Driver, The French Connection, and The Taking of Pelham 1 2 3 paint a vivid picture of Manhattan at the time. Long before chain restaurants, toy stores, and Disney actors lined the streets near Times Square, X-rated theaters, peep shows, and violent crime reigned supreme. Despite the roughness of the area, it was still home to a lot of people. Queen of the Deuce focuses on one such family, and specifically the matriarch who also just happened to run a mini porn empire. 

Director Valerie Kontakos’s documentary delves into the rich history of one Chelly Wilson as told in the present day by her children, grandchildren, and various other family members. Originally from a small Jewish community in Greece, Chelly left Europe for America before the start of World War II. After marrying, having children, and working a modest job, Chelly found herself the owner of property throughout New York City. By the time the early 1970s rolled around, many of these properties were X-rated theaters (one of which Chelly lived above).

Larger than life individuals often make the best subjects of this kind of documentary and Chelly Wilson is no exception. From the start, it’s easy to see why people were so drawn to her. She was magnetic, feisty, testy, and loving sometimes all in the span of a single interaction. Chelly’s family lovingly talk about how she held court in her apartment with friends, neighbors, and family. Everyone would be under her spell. Sometimes this may have even included members of the local mafia. 

Kontakos skillfully weaves tales of Chelly’s history and her present in the 1970s and 80s into the fabric of Manhattan of the time. Chelly was a woman who faced adversity from an early age, and the mean streets of New York weren’t about to intimidate her. There are low points in her story for sure, but much of The Queen of the Deuce is filled with stories of how loved and admired she was. 

Much of the film is filled with family videos and photographs that help to amplify the stories. This visual history is an enormous asset to Kontakos, who doesn’t have to completely fall back on standard talking head footage.

Queen of the Deuce does an admirable job of touching on the history of New York City of the time, but even better is how the film showcases the love and respect a family can share throughout the ages.

Life’s a Stage

Earlybird

by Brandon Thomas

Artistic risks are hard. Conventional wisdom states that the safest artistic endeavors tend to be the most successful. This is true for movies, music, writing, and theater. Why else would we be gifted with theatrical productions of Mrs. Doubtfire or have ten Fast & Furious movies?

Michael (Joshua Koopman) is the owner of a struggling independent theater company. The theater’s go-to has always been tried-and-true classics like Romeo & Juliet or Julius Caesar, and even those aren’t getting many butts into seats. After his landlord informs him that the rent is going up, Joshua decides to call it quits with the theater. At the urging of his wife, Sarah (Julie Pope), Michael dusts off an old oddball script of his own in an effort to be more creative during the theater’s remaining weeks. When the show is a surprise hit, Michael and his staff begin looking for even odder shows to produce.

On the periphery, Earlybird seems like the kind of movie we’ve seen a thousand times before. You know, the one where the scrappy crew of lovable losers has to overcome insurmountable odds and always comes out on top. Except, that’s not exactly what Earlybird is. No, while Earlybird does contain said lovable losers, the path to “coming out on top” isn’t as predictable.

The key to Earlybird’s freshness is the lack of devotion to plot. The real conflict doesn’t come from whether or not the theater company will actually close. Instead, the drama and driving force throughout the film are the relationships between the characters. Joshua’s transition from burned out and uninspired to all-consumed and flippant takes center stage (ahem).

Koopman and Pope lead the cast with a natural and charming chemistry. Theirs is a relationship that feels lived in and supportive. As Joshua’s behavior begins to strain their relationship, writer/director Martin Kaszubowski never goes for the easy sitcom-level drama. The honesty of their predicament is all the drama Earlybird needs.

There are so many times that Earlybird feels like it’s going to play it safe. However, the cleverness of the script and the scrappiness of the overall production helps to keep the film on its toes. While a comedy, belly laughs aren’t exactly the target of the film. There’s an overall sweetness to Earlybird that shows itself early and never quite goes away. 

The film seemingly wraps up a little too nicely, but it ultimately feels earned given the strength of the previous 1 hour and 45 minutes. Sometimes a little extra sweetness at the end isn’t such a bad thing.

Ch-Ch-Ch-Changes

The Animal Kingdom

by Brandon Thomas

The relationship between Francois (Roman Duris) and his son Emile (Paul Kircher) isn’t just strained, it’s virtually broken. A mutation has swept the planet causing some people to transform into human-animal hybrids and Emile’s mother sits in a hospital as one of those affected. As Francois obsesses over treatment for his wife, he fails to notice the significant transformations occurring in his own son.

The Animal Kingdom surprises from the start with a focus squarely on the characters and their relationships, not the genre elements. What easily could have been typical genre fodder (and there’s nothing wrong with that from time to time) instead grapples with complex emotions and real-world metaphors. While the elements surrounding the mutations are visually impressive and interesting, Francois and Emile’s relationship anchors the film.

Speaking of the visuals, the make-up and added CG effects on the mutated are outstanding. The emphasis is placed more on the practical work, but the almost seamless blending of the two styles makes for an incredible final product. Not only do the character designs have an intriguing originality to them, but they also allow the characters’ humanity to bleed through. It’s an approach to visual effects that is unfortunately not the norm for these types of films. 

The Animal Kingdom’s commentary on real-world events is presented front and center, but not in an overly heavy-handed way.

Writer/Director Thomas Cailley and co-writer Pauline Munier have crafted a story that works on an emotional and visceral level, but also as a broader comment on newer diseases and the fear that it brings to the surface. It never feels like Cailley is preaching to the audience even when the film’s point is hard to miss. 

Audiences looking for more emotional genre fare will be quite pleased with The Animal Kingdom and its emphasis on character.

Screening Room: Kung Fu Panda 4, Imaginary, Ricky Stanicky, Damsel & More

Can You See What I See?

Totem

by Brandon Thomas

By definition, a totem is “a natural object or animal that is believed by a particular society to have spiritual significance and that is adopted by it as an emblem.” With Totem, her second feature-film, director Lila Aviles approaches the esoteric idea of totems through the eyes of a curious 7-year-old girl who is trying to understand the familial chaos surrounding her. 

Having been dropped off at her grandfather’s house, Sol (Naima Senties) spends the day wandering from room to room, conversation to conversation, as the adults around her rush to set up a birthday party for Sol’s ailing father. As night falls and the party inches closer, Sol tries to make sense of the mixture of emotions, reactions, and actions coming from each member of her family.

The bulk of Totem is told solely through Sol’s eyes. It’s not a candy-coated depiction of a child’s viewpoint but it’s still an honest one. There’s a feeling of wonderment in even the most mundane things Sol observes. As children, many of us focused on the tiniest of details and differences around us. It’s something the camera captures expertly as is floats through the scene – making the audience feel less like an observer and more a part of the family. Visually, the use of the 1.33:1 aspect ratio – while probably overused in many modern movies – feels at home in the story Totem is telling. This tighter ratio that makes the image look cramped is a perfect visual metaphor for Sol’s large extended family crammed together in her grandfather’s modest home. 

Despite the melancholy backdrop of the party, Totem never succumbs to heaviness or melodrama.  Each member of Sol’s family is trying to make sense of their own fear and impending grief surrounding her father’s illness. For Sol, this difference is confusing and somewhat alienating. For us, the audience, it’s honest and all too relatable. 

It’s never made clear how much Sol knows about her father’s condition. However, despite his circumstances, Sol’s love for her father is undeniable as are his reciprocated feelings, even though they are shared through pain and suffering. For Sol, the most important thing is seeing her father and feeling his embrace.

And for us that becomes the most important thing too.