Tag Archives: Hope Madden

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Game On

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Latency

by Hope Madden

A descent into madness horror that relies almost entirely on two performances, writer/director James Drake’s Latency makes effective use of his single location to amplify themes and create tension.

Sash Luss is Haha, an agoraphobic professional gamer with a lot to lose. She’s months behind on rent, for one, and the last thing an agoraphobic needs is to have to find a new place to live. So, when she gets the chance to test new gear that enhances performance—which she can use to win a high stakes tournament before anyone else gets ahold of the tech—she jumps.

But the mind meld gear exacerbates some troubling aspects of Hana’s mental health, kicking off a rapid deterioration that blends memory with video game until she’s not sure what’s real and what’s not.

Latency feels a bit like a gamer’s Repulsion. Instead of mining sexual hysteria as Polanski did, Drake digs into the way seclusion and technology can intensify trauma and deepen mental illness.

Alexis Ren injects Latency with needed cheer and color, but it’s Luss who anchors the film. She’s in every scene. It’s a demanding role that asks, for instance, for magnetism while staring listlessly at a video game you can play with your mind. The arc of the character is dizzying and Luss can’t always deliver. While she transmits the fear and much of the regret authentically, the madness never feels quite mad enough.

The scares aren’t especially scary, either, but the narrative’s game like quality does build a sense of existential horror. Still, though the video game quality of the aesthetic cheats the need for realistic horror images, they’re still missed.

The film sees agoraphobia as a kind of macabre, inherited coping mechanism. But there’s something honest in the nightmare of days disappearing into other days, a timeless malaise of hyper-isolation.

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Unreal World

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The Watchers

by Hope Madden

Tales of Irish fae folk can be terrifying. Often part ecological horror, part folktale, they can hit a primal fear of powerlessness and loss of identity. Ishana Shyamalan’s feature debut The Watchers, which she adapted for the screen from a novel by A.M. Shine, tackles these notions and adds a comment on voyeurism as entertainment.

Mina (Dakota Fanning), an unhappy American girl working at a pet store in Galway, agrees to drive a day to get a rare bird to a zoo. “Good chance to see the Irish countryside.”

GPS is shite in heavily forested areas, the road becomes just muddy tracks, then the car seizes and stops. One terrifying thing leads to another and suddenly she’s racing, birdcage in hand, toward a metal door being held open if she can get to it in 5, 4, 3, 2…

Credit Shyamalan (or my enduring fear of the woods?) for ratcheting tension early on. If you’ve seen the trailer, you know what happens next: she’s trapped inside with three others, one wall is a window, and at night those damn fae folk come to watch those inside.

It’s a great set up and a compelling, strange premise—the kind of thing the filmmaker’s father might make, and just as fraught with possible missteps. Remember how cool the trailer for Old was?

The Watchers is heavy with symbolism, from the bird in the cage to Mina’s personal roleplay games to the reality TV DVD collection someone left for the trapped to watch. There’s no denying the film is impeccably structured, Shyamalan unveiling complications and backstory as the structure dictates. Performances are solid as well.

Fanning’s portrayal is a bit faraway and dead inside, which suits the character but makes for a relatively lowkey lead. The ever-formidable Olwen Fouéré is charismatic enough to make up for that, and both Georgina Campbell and Oliver Finnegan fill out their roles with raw tenderness.

Mina’s name (her twin sister is Lucy) is a clear nod to Ireland’s most iconic horror writer, Bram Stoker. The entirety of the film feels just that superficially Irish. Nor is there any authenticity to the ecological horror, although there’s plenty of opportunity.  But the real issue—as is so often the case in a creature feature—is the monster FX.

Not good. Bad, even.

That’s unfortunate because, though hardly revolutionary and rarely scary, The Watchers is an often-intriguing thriller. But it doesn’t hold up to the great Irish horror that came before it.

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Up In Smoke

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Trim Season

by Hope Madden

A fine blend of supernatural chiller, cabin-in-the-woods horror, ecological thriller and cautionary tale, Trim Season may be the first weed-based horror film that doesn’t go for laughs.

Emma (Bethlehem Million) needs purpose. She needs direction. She needs cash. Emma just lost her restaurant job, and she owes her roommate months of back rent. Her lifelong BFF Julia (Alexandra Essoe, Starry Eyes, The Pope’s Exorcist) pays for a night out to lift her spirits. There, new buddy James (Marc Senter, not subtle) talks them into a two-week, high pay seasonal gig trimming cannabis out in the wilds.

Emma knows better but her options are limited, so off she goes.

Co-writer/director Ariel Vida mines drug-fueled, dreamy, out-of-control territory where better horror films have blossomed: Mandy, Hagazussa, Lovely Molly. Vida overlays nightmarish images with smoke haze and bleary audio just often enough to conjure a nightmarish high that is, of course, more nightmare than high.

The film’s opening is especially enjoyable. Vida captures a verdant, primal quality to the prologue that both sets the stage and delivers real horror. Though the balance of the film never fully lives up to that splashy intro, it keeps your interest.

Million and Essoe deliver solid performances, as do Ally Ioannides and Juliette Kenn De Balinthazy as two other doomed trimmers. Cory Hart, playing the hot headed eldest son to the villainous matriarch Mona (Jane Badler), skillfully anchors every scene he’s in.

Some plotting conveniences limit the ability to suspend disbelief and Badler’s campy villain lacks depth. It’s unfortunate, because it’s the film’s juiciest part but the delivery is superficial sinister at best. The situation is exacerbated by the third act reveal. Because the film’s mythology is never more than hinted at, the climax feel a bit unsatisfying.

Still, there’s a lot to recommend Trim Season. Luka Bazeli’s cinematography is both lush and claustrophobic, tapping simultaneously into a wonder and terror of the woods. Some of the horror imagery is impressive as well. And Vida takes the subject matter seriously, which is itself a refreshing change of pace.  

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Hell’s Kitchen

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What You Wish For

by Hope Madden

It’s been nearly fifteen years since writer/director Nicholas Tomnay unveiled David Hyde Pierce’s pitch perfect black comic sensibilities in The Perfect Host, a darkly comedic gem of social satire horror.

Tomnay returns to horrific dinner parties, sans humor, with his latest, What You Wish For, a macabre tale of capitalism, mistaken identity, and meat.

Ryan (Nick Stahl) is out of luck. A talented chef lowered to roasting chickens in a hotel kitchen, and in more debt than he can manage to some very bad people, he sets off to an isolated spot in a tiny Latin American country to catch up with his culinary institute roommate, Jack (Brian Groh).

But Jack’s on assignment and soon Ryan finds himself too deep to escape from a seriously demented personal chef situation.

What You Wish For is slow going at first. Both Groh and Stahl deliver lifeless performances, briefly elevated by a splashier presence of Alice (Penelope Mitchell). But if you slog through act 1, a beefier stew awaits.

Tamsin Topolski, Randy Vasquez and Juan Carlos Messier each carve out fascinating oddball characters. Together they bring needed electricity to the film, just in time for Tomnay’s writing to take things up a notch.

Complications, tensions, confusion and controlled mayhem take front stage once Imogen (Topolski) arrives, mistaking Ryan for Jack, the chef who’s supposed to make her guests’ night unforgettable. It looks like the financial opportunity Jack needs, but you’ve seen the title.

The clever plotting buoyed by three sharp supporting turns makes the film suddenly fascinating. Stahl continues to be the weak spot, although his flat affect almost works with the new characters to give the film a bit of levity.

In the end, What You Wish For is a low-cal The Menu. It lacks the purpose and insight—let alone hilarious relatability—but it certainly calls that near-masterpiece to mind. And it looks great. It just won’t leave you very satisfied.

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Woke Up Today and Chose Violence

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In a Violent Nature

by Hope Madden

When a filmmaker upends slasher tropes, the result often takes a comedic turn. Scream benefitted simultaneously from the audience’s effortless acceptance of genre staples and Wes Craven’s wicked sense of humor. Likewise, the absolute treasure of a meta-slasher Behind the Mask: The Rise of Leslie Vernon zeroes in on slasher cliches to generate fear and horror, laughter and empathy.

Chris Nash is not doing that.

After years making horror shorts, Nash writes and directs his first feature. Though In a Violent Nature builds its unstated plot on your knowledge of slashers, the filmmaker is not in it for laughs.

In a Violent Nature is unapologetically a slasher. A handful of young adults gathers in a secluded national park to camp. They are vaguely horny, annoying, drunk. One mourns some kind of recent tragedy. The fact that we will never get to know these characters by name seems fitting, since slasher characters are one-dimensional by nature. Why do we return to Crystal Lake year after year, sequel after sequel? It’s not for the campers.

We hear their inane chatter, their campfire stories, their bickering and flirtations, but just barely because we’re at a safe distance. We’re far enough from the fire that they can’t see us. In fact, it isn’t until the third act that we finally find ourselves more than a few feet away from the unstoppable killing machine whose point of view defines our story.

And even then, at the end, how far away could he be?

What Nash does with his retake on the slasher—utterly minimalistic except for the carnage, which is generally inspired—is both a deconstruction and loving ode. This movie loves slashers. It does not mock them, doesn’t wink and nod at what we accept when we watch them. Nor does it add any depth to them.

People watch slashers to see characters you don’t care about meet inventive, bloody death in a beautiful landscape. We watch slashers because death is comeuppance, it is coming no matter what, and it’s coming in the form of a hulking, horrifying mass with a tragic backstory.

The practical fx are glorious. The storytelling is clever in that the story tells you nothing, but Nash’s thoughtful direction is enough. If you don’t like slashers, you won’t like In a Violent Nature. If you sincerely do, though, this film is not to be missed.

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Nathan’s Inferno

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Pandemonium

by Hope Madden

An awful lot of films are preoccupied with what, if anything, comes after death. Pandemonium, the latest feature from French filmmaker Quarxx, takes you there. No guessing.

Nathan (Hugo Dillon) is our journeyman. As the film opens, he picks himself up from the road—a treacherous hillside lane shrouded in fog. Nathan eyes his overturned vehicle and can’t believe his luck, but soon sees the cyclist (Arben Bajraktaraj) he knows is pinned under the wreckage. Except he’s not. He’s fine and standing on the same roadside.

Come to think of it, Nathan feels pretty good, too, considering.

In a lot of tales, we’d work out the details with Nathan until we all come to the obvious conclusion that Nathan didn’t survive that accident. But Quarxx wastes no time. He knows that you know, and quickly he complicates the scene with a third crash victim and two doors. One looks inviting, beautiful even. The other does not.

What’s fascinating about the entire film, and Dillon’s performance, is the polite if reluctant civility, the resigned obedience. Nathan begrudgingly does what he’s told rather than fighting in a narrative move that’s simultaneous cynical and polite.

Nathan’s story is essentially the wraparound tale of an anthology. Early circles of Nathan’s hell involve witnessing the sins of others by way of two separate short horror films. The first, starring a psychotic little princess named Nina (Manon Maindivide, brilliant), is the highlight of Pandemonium. Told with macabre whimsy and no mercy, it’s a welcome dash of color.

The second short within the tale is also solidly told and a bit more desperate. Again, Quarxx’s tone changes as a grieving mother loses her grasp on sanity.

And then, back to hell with Nathan in yet another dramatic tonal shift. Within the span of a barely 90 minutes, Quarxx explores a number of wildly different horror styles, each pretty effectively. The final act is the weakest, and though it has merit as its own short, as a closing chapter for the feature it leaves a bit to be desired. 

But Quarxx is bound to hit on at least one tale that will appeal to every horror fan. It’s not a seamless approach, but it’s never less than compelling.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C5Sg1NpFN4Y&t=12s

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On the Road Again

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Furiosa: A Mad Max Saga

by Hope Madden and George Wolf

From the dust and the waste of the Mad Max Saga has sprung many a fascinating supporting player: The Humungus, Auntie Entity, Immortan Joe. Only one commands an origin story. That look. That arm. That name: Furiosa!

George Miller follows up his epic action masterpiece Fury Road with a look at what made our girl tick, what turns of event turned her into the baddest of all badasses.

Writing again with Nick Lathouris, who co-write Fury Road, Miller invests more time in plotting than usual, creating a 15-year odyssey rather than a breathless and breakneck few day adventure.

Young Furiosa (Alyla Browne, Sting) is taken from the storied Green Place by scavengers, eventually landing in the care of vainglorious leader of the marauders, Dr. Dementus (Chris Hemsworth, creating a fascinating mix of loquacious pretension, reckless machismo and prosthetic nose). It’s the first stop of many on the savvy, silent one’s wearying journey toward fulfilling the two promises: the one she made her mother to return, and the sacred oath all in the Green Place make to keep the location forever secret.

Years pass, and Anya-Taylor Joy straps on the arm and the attitude for this prequel, her arc a suitable evolution from scrappy kid to determined adult to the undeniable warrior Charlize Theron perfected in the last go-round.

Miller remains as true to his vision of the wasteland as he was back in ’79’s original Mad Max, but there is a depth to the storytelling here that sets it apart. We’ve had four films to see what turned Max Rockatansky mad, made him what he is. Now Miller lays out a single story that serves as both a thrilling prelude to Fury Road and a rich origin story in its own right.

Plot does not take a front seat to action, though, so strap in for more glorious road wars.

Again wielding his patented punch-in closeups like a heavy metal power chord, Miller keeps a palpable sense of frenzied motion. War rigs take to the barren terrain while all manner of air and ground assaults constantly threaten from every direction. Miller and cinematographer Simon Duggan craft a wonderfully rich visual playground, while Fury Road editors Eliot Knapman and Margaret Sixel (Miller’s wife) return to make sure this trip feels equally immersive.

The very nature of this installment’s origin story removes the chance for the kind of singular narrative mission that helped elevate Fury Road to all-time great action heights. But anyone who took that ride knew there had to be a helluva story behind that buzz cut and metal arm.

There is, and Furiosa brings it right up to where the last journey began, in an often spectacular fashion that demands nothing less than the big screen.