Tag Archives: film

Nightmares Film Festival

Blame Canada

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Hunting Matthew Nichols

by George Wolf

Is this a faux documentary? A true crime thriller? Found footage horror? It’s all of that, at least some of the time.

You know what, just don’t worry about it and enjoy the clever way Hunting Matthew Nichols tips its hat to a variety of genre influences.

Director and co-writer Markian Tarasiuk plays himself as a documentary filmmaker out to solve an over-two-decades-old missing persons case. Canadian teens Matthew and Jordan went missing on Halloween night of 2001, and now Matthew’s sister Tara (Tara Nichols) is teaming with Markian to get to the bottom of what really happened.

Early on, we come along on an engaging hunt for clues. A succession of solid supporting performances bring welcome authenticity to Tara’s fact-finding interviews, until a surprise discovery turns the film on its found footage ear.

The missing kids were big fans of the Blair Witch Project, and took a camcorder into Black Bear Forest to uncover the local legend of Roy McKenzie. This turns out to be a slyly organic way of acknowledging the big comparisons that will follow, and to setup the type of in-your-face finale that more than a few BWP naysayers may have preferred.

The ride is well-paced and impressively assembled, and the payoff is satisfying enough to make you forget about who’s manning the camera or why we’re watching reactions to a shocking videotape instead of the tape itself.

But this Hunt is a fun one, and it comes complete with a mid-credits stinger that flirts with the possibility of another chapter.

If so, count me in.

Shudder Premiere

Parent Trap

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Daddy’s Head

by George Wolf

You see the title Daddy’s Head and you might expect a bit of grind house fun, full of schlock and awe and signifying little. But this Shudder original has higher aspirations, as writer/director Benjamin Barfoot pulls off a nifty creature feature steeped in the psychology of grief.

Young Isaac (Rupert Turnbull) lives with his father James (Charles Aitken) and stepmother Laura (Julia Brown) in the English countryside. Life has already dealt the boy a terrible blow with the death of his mother, so James’s fatal car accident weighs heavy with cruel trauma.

Isaac is left with no next of kin, and officials from social services favor Laura taking over as legal guardian, if she is agreeable.

But while Laura is sorting through the legalities, days and nights begin to get bumpy.

Isaac insists that his father has returned. Something breaks through a picture window and attacks the family dog.** A kitchen knife turns up missing. And James’s divorced friend Robert (Nathaniel Martello-White) is always finding reasons to drop by.

As Isaac becomes convinced that is father is calling to him from the nearby woods, Barfoot punctures the questionable realities with some well-crafted jump scares and satisfying practical effects. The frights that come in the third act succeed because of the character dynamics that Barfoot and his talented cast build in the first two. The child-centered mystery and sleek, imposing aesthetics will likely call Goodnight Mommy to mind early on, before giving way to a Babadook-styled struggle with a monster.

But Daddy’s Head tripping is committed to upping the ante, and the escalation ultimately delivers enough to satisfy fans of both blood and metaphors.

**trigger warning: violence to animals

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Beasts of Burden

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Rumours

by George Wolf

Did you know that swag bags at the G7 Summit come with a free copy of Incumbent Life magazine?

That’s just one example of the winking comedy at work in Rumours, which finds Guy Maddin teaming with brothers Evan and Galen Johnson to pen a well-developed satire about the “burden of leadership.”

At this latest Summit, the leaders of Germany (Cate Blacchett), the U.S. (Charles Dance), Canada (Roy Dupuis), Italy (Rolondo Ravello), Great Britain (Nikki Amuka-Bird), France (Denis Ménochet) and Japan (Takehiro Hira) all agree they need to draft a cohesive statement on an unnamed world crisis.

Actually doing it becomes more of a challenge, one that gets even harder when they all find themselves lost in the woods around the German compound. With no servants in sight, the Heads of State grow fearful of Bog Zombies, are perplexed by the oversized brain they come across, and incredulous when the missing President of the European Commission (Alicia Vikander) suddenly reappears.

That’s a busy night.

Evan Johnson directs, putting understandable confidence in these wonderful actors to craft distinct personalities while grounding the comedy with the bone dry delivery required to wring the last ounce of wry mischief from every line. The target is more than just fiddling while the world burns, it’s aimed at those who congratulate themselves just for agreeing that the temperature has changed.

This is high concept satire, for sure, but Johnston doesn’t front load the fun. The steady pace has room for surprises throughout, with enough relatable truth to smooth out the overly goofy spots.

And for those who thought Don’t Look Up was just too obvious and on-the-nose, Rumours may be the perfect blend of comedy and world’s end commentary. It’s quieter, more polite, but still able to wield absurdity as a potent spotlight on the pathetic.

And just look at that big brain near Blanchett!

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Pleased to Meet Me

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My Old Ass

by George Wolf

If the assignment was to write a letter to your younger self, keeping in mind the painful mistakes you’d like to erase while illustrating John Lennon’s classic line “life is what happens while you’re busy making other plans” and peppering in some R-rated laughs, then writer/director Megan Park absolutely aced it.

My Old Ass is all of that and more, a smart, funny and surprisingly emotional comedic fantasy that ranks with the best coming-of-age films of the last several years.

In a breakout big screen debut, Maisy Stella (from TV’s Nashville) is completely captivating as Elliot, a restless just-turned-18-year-old more than ready to leave her family’s cranberry farm in rural Canada for the University of Toronto in just 22 days.

But after a wild and hazy birthday party with her besties, Elliot gets an unexpected visit from an old new friend: her 39 year-old self (Aubrey Plaza). It takes some unique convincing, but eventually Elliot has questions…and some weird requests. Her old ass has answers, thoughtful advice and one stern warning.

“Avoid. Anyone. Named. Chad.”

“Chad?”

Enter Chad (Percy Hynes White).

Three years removed from her standout filmmaking debut The Fallout, Park lightens the mood via a charmingly fantastical premise, but keeps the film grounded with a refreshing and authentic voice. There’s so much honesty here about appreciating the journey to finding yourself, and it’s all perfectly fleshed out by the contrast of Plaza’s jaded deadpans and Stella’s enthusiastic naiveté.

Yes, life is about having the courage to make mistakes and find out what and who you really want, but it still wouldn’t hurt to be a little nicer to your brother. One day you’ll appreciate the memory.

Not one moment of either performance feels false, a testament to Stella, Plaza and to the strength of Park’s script and directing vision. While none of the sentiments here may be new or even especially profound, give in to the slightly Twilight Zone setup and the way My Old Ass delivers its life lessons might just knock you on yours.

And bring tissues. You’ll need them for more than just cushion when you land.

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Smooth Operators

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Wolfs

by George Wolf (no relation)

Watch the trailer for Wolfs, and you hear Sinatra front and center.

But watch the movie, and it’s Sade time, baby.

I get that the Apple marketing department wants you to remember the fun of Clooney and Pitt’s Ocean’s Eleven franchise, but this new venture crafts its effective charm from a more seedy vibe.

New York D.A. Margaret (Amy Ryan) has a problem. She’s covered with blood in a swanky hotel with a much younger man (Austin Abrams), and he’s half naked on the floor with no pulse.

Plus, that’s a lot of drugs.

Margaret calls a fixer (Clooney), who promises to make it all go away. But it’s Pam (Frances McDormand) running the hotel and she has her own man (Pitt), who shows up with identical claims of problem solving.

The rival lone wolves have no intention of teaming up, but fate has other ideas. So it’s going to be a long and bumpy night.

Years before Reynolds and Jackman started their good natured ribbing, Clooney and Pitt owned the “fun frenemy” schtick, and writer/director Jon Watts reminds us that their charisma still has plenty of life.

The deadpan sparring is a mischievous hoot, as Margaret’s Man and Pam’s Man each strive to be too cool for competition while secretly pining for the other’s respect. Watts (Cop Car, the Spider-Man “Home” franchise, TV’s The Old Man) creates a nice counterbalance via the uncool “Kid” (Abrams is terrific) and backs up the snappy dialog with understated visual gags (one Man slowly peering around the corner at embarrassing moments) and some pieces of stylish, well-staged action.

There’s a winning air of confidence to the film, and it’s not just from two A-listers secure in their movie star status. Wolfs isn’t trying to re-invent any genres, but Watts displays plenty of skill with plot twisty intrigue.

These fixers aren’t leading a team of good-hearted thieves, robbing people who probably deserve it and righting old wrongs. Yes, they’re still unreasonably handsome, but they are shady characters with bloody pasts and clearly compromised moral codes. They are interesting, in a Tarantino sort of way.

And they are in one helluva mess. How dirty will they have to get to clean it up?

You may be surprised. Just don’t expect Vegas, and you’ll be entertained.

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Stardust Memories

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Close Your Eyes

by George Wolf

Thirty-two years later, Spanish auteur Víctor Erice returns with his fourth feature, Close Your Eyes (Cerrar los ojos), a patiently exquisite study of memory, identity, and the reflecting power of film.

Former film director Miguel Garay (Manolo Solo) spends his days in a fishing village on the coast of Spain. He reads, writes the occasional short story, and dodges the conspiracy theories that still exist about his old friend Julio Arenas (Jose Coronado).

In 1990, Julio was starring in Miguel’s film The Farewell Gaze when he disappeared without a trace. The mystery is being revisited on TV’s “Unresolved Cases,” and Miguel travels to Madrid for his guest appearance.

The broadcast prompts a call from a woman from an elder care home in another Spanish village. There is a handyman they call Gardel who tends the grounds and keeps to himself. She is sure it is Julio.

Miguel must confirm this for himself, and the journey back through his past includes reconnecting with his film editor (Mario Pardo), a former lover (Soledad Villamil), Julio’s daughter (Ana Torrent), and one painful, tragic memory.

Erice (El Sur, The Spirit of the Beehive) sets a pace that is unhurried but necessary, and he fills the nearly three-hour running time with exquisite shot making, insightful dialog and meaningful silences. He also crafts the film-within-a-film as a compelling narrative in its own right, one that adds important elements to the touching and deeply resonant finale.

Now in his mid-eighties, Erice makes Close Your Eyes more than just a rumination on “how to grow old.” Expertly assembled and deceptively understated, it is a beautiful ode to the pleasure, pain, friendships and memories of a life well lived.

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Matinee Rats

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The 4:30 Movie

by George Wolf

Maybe Kevin Smith saw Sam Mendes, James Gray and Spielberg all come out of the pandemic with reflections on their film-loving early years. Or maybe he just liked the taste of Paul Thomas Anderson’s Licorice Pizza.

Either way, The 4:30 Movie finds Smith looking back with wistful zaniness at a pivotal time in his own life: 1986.

High school Junior Brian David (Austin Zajur from Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark and Smith’s own Clerks III) just can’t quit thinking about that time he made out with cute Sophomore Melody Barnegot (Siena Agudong, the Resident Evil TV series) in her backyard pool.

For some reason, Brian didn’t immediately follow up on that makeout sesh. But now he’s ready to ask for an official date, and they make plans to meet for the 4:30 screening of Bucklick (which, based on the theater poster, is the original Fletch).

But how they gonna sneak past the crazy theater manager (Ken Jeong) and into an R-rated flick? Turns out that’s just one of the obstacles standing between these kids and a movie.

You’ve also got Brian’s two friends (Reed Northrup, Nicholas Cirillo), their favorite wrestling entertainer (Sam Richardson), a Hot Usher (Genesis Rodriguez, and that is her character name), false accusations of perversion and a string of Smith regulars (Jason Mewes, Rosario Dawson, Jeff Anderson, Justin Long and Jason Lee).

I’ve laughed hard at some of Smith’s earlier movies, respected his blunt self-awareness and appreciated the moments when his frenetic dialog lands with earned insight. Here, while some overt Gen X reminiscing – bolstered by the closing Easter egg and blooper reel – may have a warmth about it, the charming core relationship between Brian and Melody gets lost. We’re pulling for them, but all the tangential and unnecessary diversions just end up working against the crude honesty that has marked Smith’s best work.

Few moments transcend beyond nostalgia, while the only laugh out loud sequence comes from mother/daughter Jennifer Schwalbach Smith and Harley Quinn Smith in Sugar Walls, the first of Kevin’s fake trailers. The other 85 minutes or so find humor that’s as obvious and forced as the speech from Hot Usher that lights a filmmaking fire in a young nerd.

The 4:30 Movie is certainly the Kevin Smith-iest of the filmmaker’s memory lanes we’ve been down recently. It’s also the most fractured and frustrating. Let’s hope his future is more rewarding.

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Underdog Day Afternoon

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You Gotta Believe

by George Wolf

On the heels of last weekend’s Little League World Series championship (congrats, Florida!) comes You Gotta Believe, a generically titled, broadly brushed “based on true events” story of one of the most memorable runs in LLWS history.

It’s 2002, and Texas Dads Jon Kelly (Greg Kinnear) and Bobby Ratliff (Luke Wilson) are coaching the worst Little League team in Fort Worth, when they get an unlikely offer. To keep the local sponsors happy, Kliff Young (Patrick “You’re killin’ me, Smalls!” Renna, the first of a few callbacks to better baseball movies) has to send one team to the LLWS qualifying tournament…so whaddya say?

What could possibly turn these cellar dwellers into the Good News Bears? Thanks to writer Lane Garrison and director Ty Roberts, it’s a mix of some tragically bad news, and one shamelessly bad trope.

Coach Ratliff is diagnosed with aggressive melanoma skin cancer, giving his son Robert (Michael Cash) and the rest of the team what local card shop owner Sam (Martin Roach) says they lack: something to rally behind. Sam, apparently the only African American in town, also quickly turns the team’s pitcher into an ace. And though he doesn’t get a coaching offer, Sam still comes to the games to cheer for the boys while seeming to interact with absolutely no one else.

Magical? No, it’s crap.

As the “Westside All Stars” start winning, Garrison and Roberts keep the film perched on the edges of the faith-based genre. But while the preaching here is minimized, there is that familiar feeling of an audience being taken for granted. There’s little concern for depth or character development (Wilson doesn’t even pretend to go bald during his character’s courageous fight with chemo), an awkward singalong sequence, and a wait for authentic humanity that only ends when the real-life players show up in an epilogue.

Over 20 years ago, these Texas kids had an inspiring run in the face of tragedy, and since then have shown a commitment to cancer research. The story at the heart of You Gotta Believe is worthy. It’s just a shame that the storytelling thinks demanding we believe is all that’s required.

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Moth to a Flame

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Slingshot

by George Wolf

A small group of dedicated souls travel in deep space. Worn down by isolation and boredom, they start to question their commitment to the mission as they fight to keep a firm grip on reality.

Slingshot does not offer a groundbreaking premise. In fact, co-writer Nathan Parker took us on a similar ride in 2009 with Moon, a solid morality tale that pulled some of its punches on the trip home.

But here, it is the third act that rescues the film from the slog of familiarity, with director Mikael Håfström never completely tipping his hand until the last, well-executed reveal.

Casey Affleck stars as John, who is on board the Odyssey 1 with Captain Franks (Laurence Fishburne) and fellow crewman Nash (Tomer Capone from The Boys). They are 9 months into an Earth-saving mission to Titan, the largest of Saturn’s moons, but they will need to execute a tricky “slingshot” maneuver around Jupiter to make the trip successfully.

Trouble starts with adverse reactions to deep space hibernation. John sees visions of Zoe (Emily Beecham) – the love he left behind – while Nash becomes convinced the ship has taken on too much damage to complete the mission. Captain Franks is wondering if he can trust either one, and paranoia begins to envelope the Odyssey.

Performances are fine all around and set the stakes convincingly enough, as Håfström (Evil, The Rite) layers the romantic flashbacks with plenty of obligatory shots of Zoe rolling over and staring longingly from underneath the sheets.

Yes, yes, very nice. But what’s the endgame here?

Events get a welcome escalation once violence erupts. Håfström’s atmospherics help aid the tension and Affleck makes his character’s battle with sanity more believable than most. And though the script often invites you to catch on to what’s up, Slingshot finds an identity by seeing its vision through to the very end, a will-they-or-won’t-they moment that almost recalls the genius of Take Shelter.

Almost. But still pretty good.

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A Night at the Opera

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The Crow

by George Wolf

The Crow may not be over when the phat lady sings, but the film’s truly galvanizing moments are here and gone, leaving the rebooted super anti-hero story to return to its largely generic nature.

Director Rupert Sanders and a writing team that includes James O’Barr (from the 1994 original) keep the basic narrative intact. After the troubled Eric (Bill Skarsgård)and his equally troubled love Shelly (FKA twigs) are brutally murdered by henchman of the centuries-old Mr. Roag (Danny Huston), Eric travels through the worlds of the living and the dead on a bloody quest for revenge and possible salvation.

Though Sanders (Snow White and the Huntsman, Ghost in the Shell) gives more attention to the origins of the love story, the “soul mate” declarations still feel rushed and unearned. The entire narrative embraces more of a nihilistic tone, with just one moment of the angsty self-awareness that buoyed the first film.

The camerawork is often nimble and expressive, but Sanders and cinematographer Steve Annis (Color Out of Space) move away from crafting any unique, comic-inspired landscapes. Instead, the colliding worlds come to resemble a very dark, long-abandoned section of any major midwestern metropolis.

But, man, when we crash that opera, The Crow lands on its feet and kicks ass, as Eric takes on a barrage of goons and gunfire with a stunning, visceral brutality. Well-staged and perfectly flanked by the performance onstage, the extended sequence benefits from impressive choreography and effects work, giving the film its only truly memorable moments.

The rest of The Crow has a difficult time measuring up.