Screening Room: Argylle, The Promised Land, Scrambled, Greatest Night in Pop & More
by Hope Madden
In 2019, documentarian Simone Scafidi turned his attention to Italian horror filmmaker Lucio Fulci for the film Fulci for Fake. It seems only fitting, then, that he shine a spotlight on Italy’s most revered horror maestro – and a bit of an artistic adversary of Fulci’s – Dario Argento.
Panico follows Argento into seclusion in a hotel where he hopes to finish his latest screenplay. From there, Scafidi interviews the director as well as his oldest daughter, Fiore, essentially ruining the whole point of Argento’s stay at the hotel, which makes the setup seem odd from the start.
Argento knows what’s up, though, posing thoughtfully with beautiful architecture and charming Scafidi with the odd reminiscence. These moments pepper a chronological throughline of archival footage and movie segments as well as contemporary interviews with family and other filmmakers.
Few genre fans would argue Argento’s influence or importance in cinema. Gushing tributes from Guillermo del Toro, Nicolas Winding Refn and Gaspar Noé (who cast Argento in the lead for his 2021 drama Vortex) offer delightful glimpses into just what an influence he has been.
Not every opinion is positive – one friend of Argento’s even articulates the plain truth that the maestro’s Nineties output lacked all art.
What Panico lacks are follow-up questions. A number of provocative comments from interviewees seemed like opportunities to hear from Argento on the matter, and yet at no point does Scafidi dig in. This is most confounding during a fairly lengthy interview with Argento’s younger daughter, Asia.
The star of six of her father’s films, beginning with Trauma when she was 16, Asia Argento has been the center of a great deal of speculation and debate concerning her father as a filmmaker and as a parent. And though she spins each unusual parenting or directorial choice as if it’s natural, positive, or wise, most of the time it clearly is not. In fact, an entire (and far more interesting) look at who Dario Argento is and what we should make of his movies could be carved out of just her interview, had Scafidi double checked any of it with her dad.
Nope. Instead, Dario sits across a table from Fiore. She asks him how he managed to be such an amazing dad, always doting on his two daughters. He says that’s just how a person goes about being a father.
I’m not bothered by a superficial doc that just points out why a filmmaker managed to leave such a remarkable legacy in a single genre. But if you’re going to tease us with actual information, choosing not to address any of that information makes for a very frustrating viewing experience.
by Hope Madden
What did I just watch?
It’s called She Is Conann, and it defies simple summarization.
French filmmaking provocateur Bertrand Mandico would like to take you on a strange journey. Conann, played throughout this experimental epic by six different actors (Claire Duburcq, Christa Théret, Sandra Parfait, Agata Buzek, Nathalie Richard and Françoise Brion) is no ordinary barbarian. But is she the most barbaric of all barbarians? At her death, her life is recounted to the Queen of Hell to make that determination.
Who is telling the tale? Rainer, a dog man (played by a woman, Elina Löwensohn) who’d been Conann’s near-constant companion since her earliest days of barbarism. They are, ahem, close.
This weird fever dream is told mostly in black and white with filth and sparkles, which makes the seemingly random pops of giallo-esque color more striking. We meet Conann at 15 in what is closest to the barbarian concept of the Schwarzenegger series that gives Mandico’s film its name. All swords and mud and conquest, the stage is set for vengeance to grip the orphan’s mind and set her on a path to rule all.
But her first real foe turns out to be herself, as she is forever murdered when visited by the version of Conann from one decade hence. This allows Mandico to leapfrog around time, creating bizarre and intoxicatingly staged eras that mix queer iconography with punk and disco, then symbols of conquest from the Roman Empire to Nazi Germany.
Rainer is always there, flashing photos as both witness and artist, one of dozens of ways the film links art with consumerism, artist with consumption. (Indeed, eventually the link is quite literal.)
Easter eggs to Naked Lunch, Blade Runner and many more, while fun, also embellish each era’s aesthetic. The result is morbid and macabre, grotesque and cynical and of course, strangely beautiful.
She Is Conann drags a bit, feeling every second of its 105-minute running time. Some eras grow more tedious than others, but a fresh and entirely bizarre surprise is around every bend. This is not a film you leave thinking, Oh, I saw that coming. The result is more of a bewildering if absolutely entertaining WTF?
We are thrilled to welcome Melissa LaMartina – actress, producer, director, and alter ego to Aurora Gorealis, macabre mistress of ceremonies for Shocktail Hour! Fashion icon that she is, Melissa recommended the topic Evening Gowns in Horror Movies.
We run through the best dressed, most fashionable to murder or be murdered in horror films. Listen in, won’t you?
Nicolas Winding Refn’s first full-blown horror movie looks glorious from frame one. Elle Fanning and her co-stars carry off dozens of amazing gowns throughout the film, but it’s that shiny blue number Refn pairs with almost giallo-red blood and those lovely gemstones that left us breathless.
Roger Corman may have skimped on a lot of things, but his costuming was top notch. And when doesn’t Barbara Steele pull off a look? Her character in The Pit and the Pendulum has something to hide, and the wardrobe changes with her mood. Our favorite mood is this red swashbuckling number, as it to announce that she was done pretending.
Guillermo del Toro’s ghost story is his most fashionable film to date. Jessica Chastain’s Lucille Sharpe is defined by the stiffly dated frocks – gorgeous though they are–while Edith (Mia Wasikowska) is a vision of the future in this buttery satin gown.
Every garment in this film is a stunner, and each gown worn by the divine Delphine Seyrig deserves its own spot on this list. But the silver number is truly to die for. The way the candle light bounces off the sequins gives Seyrig an otherworldly look that matches her magnificent performance.
Another Corman classic, The Masque of the Red Death swims in decadence, something captured magnificently by the wardrobe. Everyone looks stunning, but Hazel Court commands attention in two different ensembles. And though the green gown deserves its own spot, it’s the red dress – and how she wears it – that tops our list.

by Hope Madden
Welcome to the desk in the den, home to our hero, Spencer. Spencer is a mechanical pencil, and you’re invited to his life story. Life in the pen cup is not always fun, but Spencer makes the best of every situation.
Spencer + Penny, Forever, the charming short film from writer/director/star/editor/cinematographer Eric Boso, is an inventive and emotionally satisfying look at life, love, art and friendship.
A master class in visual storytelling, Spencer + Penny, Forever works like the best kind of picture book. The words are telling you one thing, but the visuals not only provide all the necessary context, but they also deliver additional essential information. And again, as is the case with the best picture books, the balance between words and visuals is constructed in the most delightful way.
Boso builds tension that threatens outright heartbreak, but the delivery is liltingly playful. The tone itself may be the film’s greatest feat, balancing on a slim line between childlike wonder and melancholy.
Boso’s own voicework as Spencer is top notch – touched with optimism, humanity and pain. His performance is balanced with a bright, lovely turn from Samantha Martin Hospodar as the new pencil on the desk, Penny. Their performances are sweet and inviting, the tenderness promising an emotional journey that is surprisingly poignant.
Given the subject matter, Boso wisely sidesteps sentimentality or even campy humor, but the absolute lack of cynicism in his direction is refreshing and heartbreaking. Spencer + Penny, Forever is a unique and beautiful vision from a talented filmmaker.
by Hope Madden
Jonathan Glazer takes his time between features. It’s been a full decade since his magnificent sci-fi thriller Under the Skin, which itself came 9 years after another somber piece of science fiction, 2004’s Birth. That makes the four-year span since his feature debut, the darkly ingenious Sexy Beast, seem insignificant.
But there’s nothing insignificant about Glazer or his remarkable spate of compelling, surprising, thought-provoking films, capped off with his latest, The Zone of Interest.
Told primarily in long shots that dwarf the characters within the larger physical context, Glazer unveils casual evil.
It’s taken a few years, but Hedwig Höss (an astonishing Sandra Hüller) has built a little paradise in the home she and husband Rudolph (Christian Friedel) acquired when he was made commandant of Auschwitz.
Between the house and camp is a large wall. On this side of the wall, lovely, meticulously cared for gardens, a pool, a green house, a dog frolicking here and there, and five healthy blond children. Just beyond the wall but visible in nearly every exterior shot in Glazer’s chilling film, the camp’s incinerator buildings.
Though the Höss family thrives, equally oblivious and complacent concerning the boundless inhumanity that surrounds them, Glazer refuses to let the viewer miss its presence. That disconnect is the icy heart of The Zone of Interest.
By setting the story within a minor family drama – Rudolph is being transferred because of the skill with which he manages Auschwitz and Hedwig is loath to leave the home she’s so painstakingly built – Glazer says more about the insurmountable horror of the Holocaust than most. He dramatizes nothing. Seeing how easily, how thoughtlessly and even eagerly human beings can benefit from incomprehensible inhumanity provides new, highly relevant perspective.
Hüller stuns in a performance that’s never showy yet so deeply vile it’s hard to shake. She’s not alone. Glazer’s full ensemble excels.
He adorns his tale with experimental flourishes that may be intended to cause discord, to provide the audience a moment to pause and reflect on the comfort with which human beings can carry out evil. These moments – except a late film glimpse into modern day Auschwitz – rarely achieve the same impact as the narrative.
It’s a minor misstep in a film so assured and authentic.
by Hope Madden
It’s amazing how often the beauty of unconquered land is met with the ugliness of conquest in film, as deceptively tranquil images of vast, open space underscore the heinous brutality of colonialism.
Co-writer/director Felipe Gálvez Haberle (with a massive assist from cinematographer Simone D’Arcangelo) draws you in with the same aesthetic for his gripping and ruggedly gorgeous indictment of Chile’s history in The Settlers.
An artful and unflinching portrait of atrocities inflicted on South America’s Ona people, The Settlers is a historical indictment not unlike Jennifer Kent’s 2018 study in tension and colonial horror, The Nightingale.
Three men set off across a wealthy landowner’s vast property in 1901: one Scottish soldier (Mark Stanley), one Texan gun-for-hire (Benjamin Westfall), and one native tracker (Camilo Arancibia). Their stated mission is to clear a path for the landowner’s sheep to the ocean. Their actual goal, as tracker Segundo would soon realize, is the sweeping slaughter of all indigenous people on the land.
Act one keeps its distance. There’s little dialog and scenes are mostly shot from afar, Chile’s inhospitable vastness on display. Act two brings the camera and us a little closer to the action, and the cinematic vision morphs from art-Western to something closer to horror.
The third act pivot feels more jarring. The austerity of a chamber piece sets the film on its side, but Gálvez Haberle never loses control. Indeed, it is control itself he is depicting, and the effect is chilling.
These bold shifts in structure and tone do less to undermine the tension than to alter it, set it in another direction. The safer Haberle makes the situation feel, the more institutional the horror becomes. When capitalism, politics and religion work together to redirect and rewrite history, the ugliest things are possible.
Arancibia’s performance is mainly silent, the horror of the unprovoked slaughter registering little by little across his guarded expression. Even more stunning is Mishell Guaña as a indigenous woman who becomes part of the expedition. Guaña wears a lifetime of distrust and injustice so wearily, so angrily on her face.
The true story of one nation’s history of genocide, The Settlers is unsettling universal. What Gálvez Haberle does so effectively is take it to the next step, where a nation’s brutally criminal past becomes its sanctified, sanitized history.
by Hope Madden and George Wolf
2023 was a great year for great movies, great screenplays, great performances, and great craftsmanship. Many of this year’s categories are stacked with deserving nominees., and overall, it was not a bad job by the Academy.
But we do have a few nits to pick.
Best picture
Solid, but we would put “Godzilla Minus One” and “The Color Purple” in for “Past Lives” and “The Zone of Interest.”
Best actor
All great choices.
Best actress
These are strong, but we would have loved to see Fantasia’s performance in “The Color Purple ” in Bening’s spot.
Best supporting actor
All good here.
Best supporting actress
Very strong list.
Best director
No Bradley Cooper? No Greta Gerwig.? We take umbrage, and would put them in over Glazer and Triet.
International feature film
Very nice.
Animated feature film
Not a great year for animation, but these are worthy.
Adapted screenplay
We’d put “Barbie” in Original Screenplay and add “The Color Purple,” but okay.
Original screenplay
Good choices.
Visual effects
Nice to see the relatively low budget “The Creator” included here.
Original score
All strong, but where’s “Godzilla Minus One”? Criminal.
Original song
We would have loved to see Road to Freedom from “Rustin” included in this category.
Documentary feature film
“Anselm” should be here, and maybe “Still: A Michael J. Fox Story.”
Cinematography
So great to see “El Conde” on this stellar list. It was beautiful, and hopefully this nomination will cause people to seek it out. But, to be honest, we’d have given its spot to “Barbie.“
Costume design
Animated short film
Live action short film
Documentary short film
Film editing
We’d probably go with “Barbie” over “The Holdovers” here.
Sound
Production design
Makeup and hairstyling
The 96th Academy Awards, hosted by Jimmy Kimmel, will air on ABC on Sunday, March 10, live from the Dolby Theatre at Ovation Hollywood.
by Hope Madden
Writer/director Barnaby Clay reimagines Hiroshi Teshigahara’s Oscar nominated 1964 classic The Woman in the Dunes as a Pacific Northwestern horror in The Seeding.
A man (Scott Haze, What Josiah Saw, Antlers) drives out to the desert for the best possible photos of a solar eclipse. He leaves his car, hikes a good way, gets the photos, and heads back to his car, but he’s sidetracked by a boy crying that he’s lost. The boy then gets the man lost. Eventually, alone and thirsty, the man climbs down a rope ladder into a gorge to ask a woman (Kate Lyn Sheil, She Dies Tomorrow) in the lone house for aid.
Next thing you know, the rope ladder is gone.
Like Teshigahara’s film, The Seeding examines the existential crisis of purposelessness and lack of freedom. But Clay’s film is definitely American in that the roots of the entrapment speak more of something monstrous and primal in the wilds of the nation’s last unconquered spaces.
This works to an extent. Haze is solid, if not particularly sympathetic, as frustration turns to terror, then to horror. Sheil’s enigmatic performance suits a character whose motivation and perspective are concealed.
The couple’s story is complicated by the taunts from a gaggle of sadistic boys roaming the rim of the gorge. Here Clay veers from Teshigahara’s path and into something closer to The Hills Have Eyes and declares the film horror. There’s also some vaguely Lovecraftian imagery, as if these feral desert dwellers worship something far older and more cosmic than this man could understand.
It sounds like an interesting meshing of ideas, but if comes off as a bit of a sloppy mess.
Clay, known primarily for directing music videos, nabs a handful of really impressive shots. And both leads benefit from a single opportunity to outright break down, which both do quite impressively.
But the film is too impatient. Clay reexamines an existential nightmare addressed many times (I’m Not Scared, John and the Hole) and turns to a mixed bag of horror tropes to limit its impact.