Screening Room: Halloween Ends, Stars at Noon, Piggy, Rosaline & More
Tag Archives: Hope Madden
Unjustified
Halloween Ends
by Hope Madden and George Wolf
In 2018, director David Gordon Green and writer Danny McBride did the almost unthinkable, something often tried but rarely accomplished. They made a good Halloween movie. Three years later they did what a lot of people have done. They made a bad sequel.
But the second film in a trilogy is tricky business. The origin story is out of the way and you can’t kill the villain – everyone already knows a third installment is coming. Some filmmakers thrive in that middle space, but most tread water until the big climax.
Well, that big climax is here. Laurie Strode (Jamie Lee Curtis) and Michael Myers (James Jude Courtney) face off in the final piece of Greene’s trilogy, Halloween Ends.
The bad second installment was better.
Rohan Campbell is Corey, a misunderstood outcast with tousled hair, bee stung lips and a motorcycle. The Strode women take a shine to him, Laure introducing him to granddaughter Allyson (Andi Matichak). But Haddonfield is pretty tough on Autumn romance, and this story is too rushed to resonate, too dull to be truly angsty.
Green has made some really good movies: George Washington, All the Real Girls, Undertow, Snow Angels, Pineapple Express, Joe, Halloween. One of the most impressive things about that list is the way it crosses genres like there is no border from one to the next. His first episode in the series was a mash note to the original. He wisely ignored all the other sequels and reboots and just brought us a clear vision for an Act 2.
Then, in lieu of a cohesive story, Green caves to some desire to pepper a sequel with odes and easter eggs in honor of all the franchise installments. He and co-writers McBride, Chris Bernier and Paul Brad Logan pick up an idea hinted at in two earlier episodes across the full constellation of films. An honest to god original thought would have been better.
It’s a sidetrack that some longtime fans might embrace, but the execution is littered with missteps. The new relationships do not feel authentic, much of the internal logic is questionable, and forget about scary, the film is too tired to even develop effective tension. There aren’t even any good kills.
We do get the final Laurie v Michael showdown that the title promises, which is a welcome return to giving the legendary Curtis some opportunity for badassery. But while Green & company manage a couple late-stage surprises, this is ultimately a disappointing end, with the highest of hopes limping to the finish for only lukewarm satisfaction.
R+R4E
Rosaline
by Hope Madden
Sometimes it’s fun to reconsider a Shakespearean story from the perspective of a side character. Rosencrantz and Guildenstern got their own play. Juliet’s nurse got her own book. So why not Romeo’s first love, Rosaline?
Director Karen Maine takes Rebecca Serle’s YA novel When You Were Mine back to Verona for a savvy, fun if slight reimagining of the Bard’s tragic love story. Kaitlyn Dever (who also produces) stars in a comedy that pokes holes in old-fashioned concepts of romance.
Devers is Rosaline, beloved of Romeo (Kyle Allen, your future He-Man, here sporting an eerily Heath Ledger look). He climbs her balcony at night, brings her roses, speaks such poetry – so when he finally tells her he loves her, why does she freeze?
It doesn’t matter. She’ll make it up to him at the masquerade ball, where Montagues and Capulets can dance together without anyone ever knowing. Brilliant! But she’s held up by one of her dad’s stupid suitors, Dario (Sean Teale, of the strong jawline and perfect teeth). By the time she gets to the ball, everyone’s gone. Romeo is long, long gone.
But soon enough she realizes it’s her young cousin Juliet (Isabela Merced) he’s fallen for. So, Rosaline takes Juliet under her wing in an attempt to undermine the new romance, to comedic ends.
The best bits come by way of Rosaline’s nurse, played with droll perfection by Minnie Driver, but the entire supporting cast is rock solid. Bradley Whitford is a charmingly befuddled father, Nico Hiraga gives good reason that Steve the Courier never seems to deliver packages properly, and Spencer Stevenson gets off a couple of chuckles as Paris. Anachronistic dialog fits the fun.
Maine’s film, written for the screen by Scott Neustradter and Michael H. Weber (who together penned The Spectacular Now, 500 Days of Summer, The Fault in Our Stars), is intentional in the way it dismantles damaging tropes of romance. Classic romantic stories pit women against women. And the best-known romance of all time ends with two youngsters making the dumbest decisions ever put to paper.
Rosaline recognizes this and makes light entertainment of it all. Dever is more than strong enough to carry the comedy. Her heroine offers stubbornly wrong-headed reasons for resilience and it’s hard to root against her. There’s nothing profound here, but it’s a breezy bit of fun.
Worn Retread
The Visitor
by Hope Madden
Four years ago, filmmaker Justin P. Lange used our preconceived notions against us to carve out a fresh horror with something meaningful on its mind. He followed his impressive feature debut The Dark with the subpar 2021 exorcism flick The Seventh Day.
This third outing, The Visitor, falls somewhere between the two.
A young married couple moves back to the wife’s hometown when her father dies and leaves her his big, old gothic house. So far, so garden variety.
The pair’s not even unpacked yet when the husband starts hearing noises, then he’s having nightmares, and then he discovers a painting in the attic bearing his own unmistakable likeness.
Still pretty familiar. The truth is, not a single beat in The Visitor feels truly fresh. The film looks great and performances – especially from the supporting cast that includes veterans Dane Rhodes, Thomas Francis Murphy and Donna Biscoe – keep it lively.
Leads Finn Jones and Jessica McNamee benefit from a genre gender reversal. In nearly every film of this ilk, it’s the female who senses that something in this house and this town is amiss while her husband’s too stoic and dismissive to buy in. Here it’s Londoner Robert (Jones) who sees menace in the overly friendly townsfolk, who dreams of cackling old women. His wife Maya (McNamee) grows more and more hostile to his nonsense, especially now that she’s pregnant and they’re ready to start fresh.
Lange does a serviceable job of mashing together solid elements from better films and packing them in gorgeous autumnal shades. His set designer deserves applause for understated Gothic elegance. But it’s not enough.
Lange’s film boasts no real scares, not a single surprise, little dread. It’s a bland if attractive facsimile of other films we’re already kind of tired of.
Fire Walk with Me
She Will
by Hope Madden
There is nothing quite like an excellent set of cheekbones.
The effortlessly elegant and formidable Alice Krige and her fine cheekbones deliver another quietly powerful performance in director Charlotte Colbert’s bewitching horror, She Will.
Krige is Veronica, an actress seeking some time away from prying eyes. She and healthcare aid Desi (Kota Eberhardt) will seclude themselves in the Scottish Highlands so Veronica can convalesce from a double mastectomy. She’ll also be able to escape the media frenzy around a proposed remake of the controversial film that made her a star back when she was only 14.
It’s hard to say which of the two traumas haunts her more.
The traveling pair find, thanks to a self-help guru (Rupert Everett) leading his own little squad of guests, that the rustic getaway inhabits a spot used to burn witches in older, more barbaric times. Witty feminism doesn’t overwhelm but enlightens a tale with vengeance on its mind.
Colbert, who co-wrote the script with Kitty Percy, crafts a moody shapeshifter of a film, allowing atmosphere and images to drive the narrative. The result is hypnotic. Clint Mansell’s transfixing score spills into Jamie Ramsay’s dreamy cinematography and suddenly you can’t tell whether you’re in the woods or in Veronica’s headspace or neither or both.
Eberhardt’s thoughtful turn creates a lovely opposite to the brittle Veronica, their growth offering an enduring image of the strength in companionship and sisterhood.
Colbert peppers the film with unexpected humor that serves it well. She seamlessly blends styles and ideas into a singular vision – no minor feat for a first-time director.
On top of the controversy surrounding the Hocus Pocus sequel, it is nice to be reminded, however artfully, of the legacy of witchcraft: the powerful tormenting and in many cases torching the powerless. Colbert shows us how lovely revenge can look when those women have a little power.
Sunglasses at Night
Dark Glasses
by Hope Madden
Giallo is the soap opera of horror, and you have to embrace that to appreciate it. Emotion and drama, tension, fear and sexuality are amped up to a ludicrous degree, with sense and sensibility tossed out the window.
Few have ever done this as well as Dario Argento. I’d argue Mario Bava, but many consider Argento the king of giallo, and with good reason – his landmark 1977 film Suspiria may be the high-water mark for the entire genre. After a decade away from filmmaking in general and longer still since his last giallo, Argento returns to form with Dark Glasses.
Passions run high and bad decisions are rampant as Diana (Ilenia Pastorelli) attempts to evade a serial killer. But wait, it’s more complicated than that! You see, she’s also blind and has sort of kidnapped this kid. It’s better if you don’t ask.
Though the score is not from Goblin, composer Arnaud Rebotini’s electronic soundtrack conjures classic giallo. Indeed, between those recognizable chimes and an early throat severing, you’d think you were watching Argento of old. But the filmmaker does have a couple new ideas in store, and marginally less misogyny onscreen.
Diana’s a harder-edged protagonist than what you find in other films from the Italian maestro. A high-end sex worker, she’s nonplussed about her line of work and disinterested in anyone else’s opinion of it. She’s a peculiar central character and Argento, who co-wrote the script with frequent collaborator Franco Ferrini (Opera, Phenomena), gives her more to do than elude victimization. She develops skills and bonds in the second act that feel reasonable and realistic, sometimes even tender. It helps ground the film in character before those characters step into a den of watersnakes and remind you that you are essentially watching a soap opera.
There are some inventive kills, gore aplenty, and loads of reminders of why Argento has developed such a boisterous following. This is by no means his best film, but it’s by no means his worst, either.
Everyone yells when they shouldn’t yell, everyone pauses when they shouldn’t pause, everyone talks when they shouldn’t talk, but who cares when the blood is this red and free-flowing?
Fright Club: Mean Girls & Bullies in Horror
Horror is about power versus vulnerability. That’s why bullies and mean girls fit so well into the genre. You always hope the vulnerable will overcome. In this genre, there’s always the real worry that evil will overcome. But somehow, bullies and mean girls never stand a chance.
There are so many great ways to spend time with these high school baddies, but here are our five favorites:
5. Sleepaway Camp (1983)
Meg (Katherine Kamhi) was no picnic, but side-ponytail Judy (Karen Fields) is an all-timer when it comes to onscreen bullies. She hates everyone, is mean to everyone, but she really detests poor Angela (Felissa Rose).
“She’s a carpenter’s dream! She’s flat as a board and needs a screw!”
Like all mean girls in horror, Judy gets what’s coming to her. Still, you have to respect that ponytail.
4. It (2017)
Man, the kids of Derry have it rough long before the circus comes to Derry. Between Henry Bowers (Nicholas Hamilton) and his powerful mullet and the girls dumping wet garbage on Beverly, nobody’s safe. The Losers Club really brings them out of the woodwork.
In fact, they save Mike Hanlon’s life, which bonds the group through the real clown show. Maybe this is what made each of these kids tough enough to withstand he real clown show.
3. Let the Right One In (2008)
Sure, we know Conny learned to be a bully from his older brother, Martin. Maybe Martin learned it from his dad or something. But Oskar’s had just about enough of it.
Unfortunately, Oskar’s not as good at defending himself as he’d like to think he is once big brother shows up. Not that he really needs to defend himself anymore. In one of the greatest bully comeuppance sequences in all horror, Eli shows Oskar what friends are for.
2. Piggy (2020)
Carlota Pereda complicates the mean girl trope in this brutal, moving, amazing Spanish horror film. Sarah is targeted by town mean girl Maca (Clauda Salas). Roci (Camille Aguilar) is almost as bad, but it’s Claudia (Irene Ferreiro) who really breaks Sarah’s heart. It wasn’t long ago, they were friends. Now Claudia is willing to taunt, humiliate, and in one instance, nearly drown “Piggy”.
Maybe that’s why Sarah does what she does when the three girls are taken. That is to say, maybe that’s why Sarah doesn’t do what she doesn’t do.
1. Carrie (1976)
What else? Is there a more tragic scene? Is there a scene that better establishes a character, a context, or horror?
De Palma films the scene in question, appropriately enough, like a tampon commercial, all cheesecloth and beautific music. And then Carrie White (Oscar-nominated Sissy Spacek) desperately claws at her classmates, believing she is dying. It’s the most authentic image of vulnerability and terror you can imagine, matched in its horror by the reaction she receives from those she seeks: laughter, mockery and contempt.
The result is the ultimate in mean girl cinema and an introduction to a nearly perfect horror film.
Screening Room: Hellraiser, Amsterdam, Lyle Lyle Crocodile, Luckiest Girl Alive, Piggy & More
Pins and Needles
Hellraiser
by Hope Madden and George Wolf
Did you know that this is the 11th film in the Hellraiser franchise? There are 10 others, most of them terrible, a couple unwatchable. Why? How could it be so hard to create fresh horror from Clive Barker’s kinky treasure trove?
It appears David Bruckner (The Ritual, The Night House) wonders the same thing. He and screenwriters Ben Collins, Luke Piotrowski and David S. Goyer had no trouble peeling the flesh from this franchise and exposing something raw and pulsing.
Oh yes, and gay, but if you didn’t pick up on any of the gay themes in out-and-proud Barker’s series before they cast a trans woman to play The Priest aka “Pinhead,” you missed a lot.
Jamie Clayton, with a massive thanks to makeup and costume, offers a glorious new image of pain. In fact, the creature design in this film surpasses anything we’ve seen in the previous ten installments, including Barker’s original. Each is a malevolent vision of elegance, gore and suffering, their attire seemingly made of their own flayed flesh.
There’s also a story, and a decent one at that. Bruckner’s core themes replace the S&M leanings with trauma and addiction, following a young addict named Riley (Odessa A’zion) as she ruins everyone and everything she touches.
Riley’s boyfriend Trevor (Drew Starkey) has some inside info on where rich people stash their valuables, but when the two break open a safe… there’s only that strange puzzle box inside.
And what a magnificent puzzler it is.
Like everything about the film’s visual design, there’s new richness and lethal detail to the box. It hides complicated new configurations, and Bruckner – whose horror cred is now firmly established – reveals them in intriguing tandem with the slippery rewards offered by the Cenobites.
Fans of the original classic may have been understandably wary of a rebranding, but this new vision overcomes a slightly bloated buildup for a more than satisfying crescendo. The kinks may be gone, but the chains are still chilling, in a darkly beautiful world full of sensual, bloody delights to show you.
Chicas Malas
Piggy (Cerdita)
by Hope Madden
Mean girls are a fixture in cinema, from Mean Girls to Carrie, Heathers to Jawbreaker to Napoleon Dynamite and countless others. Why is that? It’s because we like to see mean girls taken down.
Writer/director Carlota Pereda wants to challenge that base instinct. But first, she is going to make you hate Maca (Claudia Salas), Roci (Camille Aguilar) and Claudia (Irene Ferreiro). In one tiny Spanish town, the three girls make Sara’s (Laura Galán, remarkable) life utterly miserable. Like worse than Carrie White’s.
And though Sarah’s relationship with her mother (Carmen Machi) is a rose garden compared to the one Carrie shares with her wacko mom, things could be better. Sarah’s mom veers from unobservant to dismissive to defensive. Even when she’s trying to be helpful, that aid comes with a heaping dose of insensitivity.
But it’s those pretty, skinny high school girls whose contempt nearly kills Sarah. In a scene that’s difficult to forget, cruelty blossoms into something brutal and horrifying as Sarah tries to take advantage of a nearly empty swimming pool.
Traumatized by the afternoon, a dazed Sara makes a choice that she will wrestle with for the balance of the film. Pereda doesn’t present a simple, single reason for what Sarah does. Or, more to the point, does not do.
In this scene and all others, the filmmaker complicates every trope, all the one-dimensional victim/hero/villain ideas this genre and others feast on. Redemption doesn’t come easily to anyone. Pereda also seamlessly blends themes and ideas from across the genre, upending expectations but never skimping on brutal, visceral horror.
Much of that horror would feel unearned were it not for substantial performances from every member of the cast. But Sarah is the most complicated character by far, and Galán performance is a reckoning. She’s utterly silent for long stretches, Sarah trying to make herself invisible. It’s in those still moments that Galán shines most fiercely.
Piggy is a tough watch, there’s no doubt. It’s also a ferocious and stunning piece of horror cinema.
