Tag Archives: Hope Madden

Come On Feel It

White Noise

by Hope Madden and George Wolf

“All plots move deathward.”

With an unusual foray into developing someone else’s work for the screen, Noah Baumbach delivers a satirical fantasy penned in 1985 that speaks so clearly of 2022 it’s almost absurd. Which makes the filmmaker’s approach to Don DeLillo’s White Noise that much more fitting.

The film follows Jack Gladney (Adam Driver) – pioneer in the field of Hitler studies at the College on the Hill – his wife Babbette (Greta Gerwig), her important hair, collective trauma and pudding pockets.

Jack is so preoccupied preparing for the international Hitler conference that he fails to notice how distracted Babbette has become. Denise (Raffey Cassidy), the oldest of their combined four children (one is Babbette’s, two are Jack’s, one belongs to both), notices. Her interest sets off a covert investigation that can’t even be slowed by the toxic airborne event that sends the family, station wagon and all, into quarantine.

The fascinating ensemble also includes Don Cheadle, whose Murray is hoping to establish an Elvis Presley power base at the university, and could use Jack’s in giving his plan more relevance.

The 2+ hour adventure takes unexpected turns, as does the tone of the film itself. Droll, prescient satire makes way for National Lampoon Vacation-esque exploits before finding a grim if tender resolution.

The rapid-fire dialog keeps hammering away, as if characters are talking at us rather than to each other. On its face, this wouldn’t seem to be the best approach for effective film satire. But in time, the terrific cast carves out a strange, comfortable world for the many declarations to live, and Baumbach nurtures an ironically effective strategy for realizing the novel’s many big ideas.

Check that, in the mid-80s these ideas were big. Now, they cast a post-internet and pandemic shadow that may be darkly comic, completely depressing, or both. From conformity to death culture, the cult of personality to disinformation and the warm embrace of consumerism, White Noise miraculously finds madcap, anxious entertainment in the blissfully unaware.

True to its title, White Noise throws plenty at you almost all the time. And while the overriding aesthetic wallows in a bemused detachment, the film ultimately embraces important details that hint at actual warmth. It’s a film that might leave you giggling, scratching your head, or convinced that we’re all doomed, but you’ll be damned near helpless against the strange beauty of synchronized shopping.

Thanksgiving Feast

Bones and All

by Hope Madden

You might be surprised to know there is some cinematic precedent for cannibal romances. Julia Ducourneau’s Raw equated coming-of-age with the lust for human flesh. Claire Denis did something similar with her 2001 French horror Trouble Every Day, and Ana Lily Amirpour’s 2017 The Bad Batch chewed that same bone. And of course, there’s Joe D’Amato’s 1977 softcore Emanuelle and the Last Cannibals, although I don’t recommend that one.

I do recommend Luca Guadagnino’s latest, based on Camille DeAngelis’s popular YA novel, Bones and All.

The film follows Maren (an absorbing Taylor Russell, Waves), coming of age on the fringes of Reagan-era America. She meets and slowly falls for another outcast with similar tastes, Lee (Timothée Chalamet), and the two take to the road.

Given what the handsome young lovers have in common, you might expect a sort of meat lovers’ Badlands to follow. But Bones and All is less concerned with the carnage left in a wake than in what’s awakening in these characters themselves. 

And all the characters are quite something. Michael Stuhlbarg, David Gordon Green, Chloë Sevigny, Sean Bridgers and especially Mark Rylance populate an America easily corrupted by invalidation, loneliness, otherness. “This world of love has no love for a monster.”

These characters range from creepy to terrifying, their potential danger even more unnerving than the violence they exact. They become the obstacles along Maren and Lee’s romantic journey, but Guadagnino (Suspiria, Call Me By Your Name) and a terrific cast never let them amount only to that.

Bones and All is a tough one to categorize. I suppose it’s a horror film, a romance, and a road picture – not three labels you often find on the same movie. In Guadagnino’s hands, it’s more than that, though. He embraces the strength of the solid YA theme that you have to be who you are, no matter how ugly the world may tell you that is. You have to be you, bones and all. Finding Maren’s way to that epiphany is heartbreaking and bloody but heroic, too.

Thicker than Water

Blood Relatives

by Hope Madden

Noah Segan – a welcome surprise in a Dude-esque role in Rian Johnson’s mystery romp Glass Onion: A Knives Out Mystery – embodies quite a different character for another new release, Blood Relatives.

Segan writes, directs and stars as well, upending the traditional coming-of-age perspective as a vampire learning of a teenage daughter and figuring out how to become a parent. It’s a darkly comedic road trip toward mundanity.

Segan’s screenplay is loose but knowing. It never feels overly scripted but offers enough backstory to ground the tale. And though moments feel familiar – maybe a bit of Near Dark and Stakeland with far more humor and far less dystopia – there is something pleasantly new afoot in this film.

Francis (Segan) is a loner in a muscle car, making his way hither and yon across dusty old by-ways and trying not to draw attention to himself. It’s a lonesome road, but what are you going to do? Jane (Victoria Moroles, Plan B) is a 15-year-old: sarcastic, hostile – you know, normal. Only she’s not normal and now that her mom’s gone, she intends to find out who she is.

That’s the simple success of Segan’s story. It’s about two people figuring out who they are, as we all must. Without feeling preachy or pretentious, Blood Relatives offers some real insight into what parenting ought to be. Even when the only thing you really have in common is the desire to suck the life out of people.

Moroles excels in the role of an angsty teen who recognizes the symbolism of turning into a monster as you hit adolescence. She’s slyly funny but moments of tenderness humanize her Jane. Likewise, Segan finds an arc that suits a man-turned-killer trying to turn back into a man.

Supporting turns, while small, all add a nice spark to the proceedings. Josh Rubin, in particular, is a creepy delight in a Renfield-esque role.

The film’s greatest weakness is its final act, which is enjoyable but unsatisfying. Still, the entertaining Blood Relatives delivers a savvy family comedy.

Over the Hills And Far Way

Strange World

by Hope Madden and George Wolf

So, one of the main characters here looks exactly like John Krasinski, but is voiced by Jake Gyllenhaal?

Strange World, indeed, but that’s just an amusing footnote in Disney’s latest animated feature, an enjoyable family adventure with a straightforward message and commitment to inclusion.

Jake is the voice of Searcher Clade, a contented farmer still dealing with the ghost of his famous father, Jaeger (Dennis Quaid). Twenty-five years ago, Jaeger vanished during the family’s quest to discover what lies beyond the mountains of Avalonia. But while Jaeger was lost on the expedition, Searcher brought back a vital new resource for his homeland: the Pando plant.

Pando now provides the energy that drives almost everything in Avalonia, which is all fine until the crops show signs of a serious infection. Putting aside a vow not to follow his father’s adventuring path, Searcher, his wife Meridian (Gabrielle Union), their son Ethan (Jaboukie Young-White) and their three-legged dog join President Mal (Lucy Liu) on a mission to cure the Pando plant and preserve their comfortable way of life.

Writer Qui Nguyen (Raya and the Last Dragon) joins his co-director Don Hall (Raya, Moana, Big Hero 6) to craft an ecological allegory seemingly inspired by the union of a role-playing board game and one of those cute posters you pass while waiting in the lines at Disney World.

The animation itself is stunning, whether snowy peaks, verdant village or trippy, drippy otherworld. Strange World lives up to its title, delivering a visual feast.

But there’s more on Nguyen’s mind than eye candy. His story offers a world where generations do not have to be defined by what they always believed was right, where masculinity has no concrete quality but is a term owned by the individual. More importantly, this Strange World is one where creature comfort is not more important than survival.

Often the film feels like it’s trying too hard to correct the stereotypes nourished by generations of children’s entertainment. But there’s a kindness and a sense of forgiveness throughout the movie that does make you yearn for a world like this one.

The Nose Plays

Guillermo Del Toro’s Pinocchio

by Hope Madden

Is it any surprise that Guillermo del Toro’s visionary style, sentimental sensibilities, and macabre leanings suit animation so well? If there was any question, he dispels it with his gorgeous, emotional stop-motion wonder, Guillermo del Toro’s Pinocchio.

Co-directed with sculptor/animator Mark Gustafson, the film begins, as all good children’s tales must, with devastating loss and grief. If you thought the opening minutes of Up! were heartbreaking, gird your loins for this one.

The tragedy begins to abate, albeit clumsily and with much shouting, once Geppetto (David Bradley) hacks away at the tree recently occupied by one Sebastian J. Cricket, homeowner (Ewan McGregor, charming). Cricket’s home becomes Geppetto’s disobedient new puppet. You may think you know where it goes from here, but you do not.

Del Toro’s script, co-written with Patrick McHale and Matthew Robbins, establishes itself immediately as a very different story than Disney’s. The 1940 film – and, to a degree, the live-action remake Disney launched earlier this year – offers a cautionary tale about obedience. So does del Toro’s, although, in true GDT fashion, he’s warning against it.

Set between world wars in rural Italy, the film – as so many of del Toro’s do – examines the presence and pressures of authoritarianism, specifically Catholicism and fascism, on families and on the young.  

A magnificent cast including Cate Blanchett, Tilda Swinton, Tim Blake Nelson, Ron Perlman, Burn Gorman, Finn Wolfhard, John Turturro, Christoph Waltz, and Gregory Mann as Pinocchio brings charisma and dark humor to their roles. This matches the sometimes darkly funny images. Waltz, in particular, is garish, frightening fun as Count Volpe, puppet master.

The animation itself is breathtaking, and perfectly suited to the content, as if we’ve caught an artist in the act of giving his all to bring his creation to life. Everything about the film is so tenderly del Toro, whose work mingles wonder with melancholy, historical insight with childlike playfulness as no other’s does.

A Little Wicked

Disenchanted

by Hope Madden

Amy Adams’s small part in Spielberg’s Catch Me If You Can stood out, even in that pool of talent. Her role in Phil Morrison’s 2005 indie Junebug nabbed her the first of many Oscar nominations. But she wasn’t really a star until she donned that enormous, sparkly white dress and went searching for love’s first kiss in Disney’s unabashed 2007 mash note to Disney, Enchanted.

Between 2007 and today, Adams has earned an additional five Academy Award nominations and worked with many of the greatest directors and actors to live. The fact that she chose to reprise her role as wide-eyed innocent Giselle in Disney’s tardy sequel Disenchanted is reason enough to be intrigued.

And Maya Rudolph as the evil queen? I’m listening.

Giselle and her beloved Robert (Patrick Dempsey) leave New York City behind for the fairy tale world of suburbia, the now-teenaged Morgan (Gabriella Baldacchino) and their own toddler in tow. Things don’t go as magically as Giselle had hoped, not because suburbia is so terrible, but because having a teenager is.

Desperate for the happily that’s supposed to come ever after, Giselle wishes for a life like a fairy tale. What she forgot is that she’s a stepmother, and that’s never a good thing in a fairy tale. Soon, she’s battling it out with Rudolph’s Malvina to see who really deserves the title of evil.

There’s also a bit about Morgan finding her inner hero, Robert discovering his purpose, there’s a teen romance, dire consequences back in Andalasia, a lengthy animated preamble, and, of course, singing.

Lyricist Stephen Schwartz and composer Alan Menken return with songs less memorable than the three that earned them Oscar nominations in 2007. In fact, besides a couple of exceptional villainous costumes, very little about Disenchanted stays with you.

It’s overstuffed and feels it. Rather than making an interesting point about midlife crises or – better still, the ill effects of a lifetime of Disney nonsense on a female’s outlook and sense of self-worth – Disenchanted settles for a watered-down “everything’s fine” message.

And that’s what the film is. It’s fine. It doesn’t take advantage of its potential, doesn’t even take advantage of its impressive cast. It’s a pretty slog through missed opportunities and aging odes that reflects Giselle’s angst: wasn’t there supposed to be something better than this?

Going Like a Ghost Town

Sideworld: Damnation Village

by Hope Madden

Director/narrator George Popov and writer Jonathan Russell return to England’s shadowy past for the third installment of their documentary series, Sideworld: Damnation Village. We leave the forests and seas behind to peek inside the cottages, inns and public houses beset by residents unwilling or unable to leave.

The sixty-minute doc benefits again from the collaboration of a team that’s clearly on the same page. Russell and Popov have worked together, not only on both previous installments in this series (The Haunted Forests of England and Terrors of the Sea) but also the narrative features Hex and The Droving.

Cinematographer Richard Suckling once again helps Popov fill the screen with spooky but beautiful scenes, while composer Matthew Laming again breathes eerie life to the imagery with his whispering, whistling score.

Their focus this go-round are the tiny clusters of cottages dotting the English countryside, villages that have withstood centuries of war, pestilence and trauma that have left their marks. We begin, of course, in Pluckley – Guinness’s “most haunted village”.

The film moves on to Prestbury and the tale of, among others, the Black Abbott. Visits to the mostly empty villages are accompanied by Popov’s associated tale of the macabre. The filmmakers enlist actors Helen O’Connor and William Poulter to give voice to letters, articles and witness accounts.

As intriguing as the tales of lost love and criminal retribution are, it’s the mournful story of Eyam that stays with you. Perhaps it’s the connection to modern tragedy – Eyam voluntarily quarantined during the Plague, saving all the communities around it from infection but dooming themselves in the process.

As the series progresses, an interest in connecting the spectral with the scientific has become one of Sideworld’s prominent elements. In this case, Popov and company explore British archeologist/author T.C. Lethbridge’s Stone Tape theory to help explain recurring, looping paranormal phenomena.

Perhaps what best sets this series apart from other spooky folklore entertainment is its reverence for the subject – not just the scary stories, but the actual human lives behind them. Mingled with the solid storytelling – visual and aural – the heady concoction delivers another solid look at the unexplainable.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C0bzPJYgpS0

Screening Room: Wakanda Forever, Spirited, My Father’s Dragon & More

Northern Lights

Slash/Back

by Hope Madden

Nyla Innuksuk’s sci-fi horror Slash/Back opens with a likable, snow-suited scientist gathering permafrost samples in a breathtaking Northern Canadian snowscape.

Researchers on the Arctic Circle don’t have a great track record for surviving horror movies. Don’t you love the way blood pops on snow? The tentacled menace that cuts the scientist’s research short is soon to terrorize a remote fishing village called Pangnitung, or as Maika (Tasiana Shirley) and her buddies call it, Pang.

Innuksuk has a lot of fun reconsidering John Carpenter’s The Thing – the tale of an invasive species and the terrifying havoc it can wreak ­– from the perspective of four indigenous teens. And in case the point is lost on you, Maika has a badass jacket to wear when killing invasive species that may help to clarify things.

None of the performances suggest a superstar in the making, although Nalajoss Ellsworth impresses as instigator, malcontent and comic relief Uki. Still, the buddies – who include Chelsea Prusky as Lee Lee and Alexis Wolfe as Jesse – share a rapport that feels honest and relatable. Innuksuk mines this to enrich the fantasy elements with realism.

The filmmaker’s greatest collaborator is cinematographer Guy Godfree (MaudieLet Him Go). The two contrast the ramshackle buildings of Pang with the glorious natural landscape around it. The effect not only conveys what could be lost to these bloodthirsty outsiders, but what was lost the last time.

Creature design is sometimes inspired, sometimes a little weak, but Innuksuk embraces these limitations. Production value is high, even when the images and performances on the screen seem a bit amateurish. Somehow the two fit together in this world at the edge of the world, where that adolescent urge to pretend to be someone you’re not feels like a real betrayal and those seal hunting trips you took with your dad finally pay off.