Screening Room: Deadpool & Wolverine, Fabulous Four, Vourdalak, The Last Breath & More
Tag Archives: Madd at the Movies
A Farm in England
Starve Acre
by Hope Madden
Perhaps it’s impossible to create a folk horror film that feels truly fresh. Maybe freshness is at odds with the very idea of folk horror. What director Daniel Kokotajlo, adapting Andrew Michael Hurley’s novel Starve Acre, manages in lieu of freshness is an enigmatic slow burn enlivened by memorable performances.
Richard (Matt Smith), Jules (Morfydd Clark) and their young son Owen (Arthur Shaw) are settling in. They’ve recently moved into Richard’s childhood home out in the bleak and foggy British countryside circa 1970-something. The fresh air will do Owen good, surely. I mean, nothing maleficent ever happens in situations like these. What could go wrong in a place called Starve Acre?
Unless Richard’s late father—and maybe rugged old neighbor Gordon (Sean Gilder, stellar)—dabbled in child abuse and the occult. Or the old tree trunk that Richard obsessively digs around is some kind of gateway. But what are the odds?
So much of Kokotajlo’s film pulls from existing genre fare: unhappy couple, new home with an ugly past, familial tragedy, father numbs himself with work while mother loses grip on reality.
But a handful of intriguing scenes and conversations, as well as an entire ensemble of strong performances, ensures that the creeping storyline captures and keeps your attention.
Little Arthur Shaw is a heartbreaker, so be prepared. Kokotajlo sidesteps overt gruesomeness to leave an impression that’s even more menacing. Gilder’s a solid salt-of-the-earth presence, offset admirably by Erin Richards. As Jules’s sister Harrie, she’s civility-meets-hardiness and her character feels deeply human and relatable.
But it’s Smith and Clark (the latter who was so astonishing in Rose Glass’s 2019 genre masterpiece, Saint Maud) who carry the film. Both deliver characteristically flawed but tender performances, each commanding the screen without an ounce of showiness.
Careful writing, some fine genre direction and misdirection, and these compelling performances help Starve Acre rise above its spooky familiarity. It’s not enough for Kokotajlo to leave you lying awake and hoping for dawn, but you won’t regret watching.
Screening Room: Twisters, My Spy 2, Young Woman and the Sea, Oddity & More
Storm Team
Twisters
by Hope Madden
Is Twisters 100% scientifically realistic? Well, taming tornadoes from inside souped up pickups seems likelier than following up the beautiful, Oscar nominated drama Minari with this movie. But if director Lee Isaac Chung can do that, anything is possible.
Chung’s film, written by Mark L. Smith (The Revenant) and Joseph Kosinski (Tom Cruise’s favorite director, who also wrote the Cruse vehicle Oblivion), follows a new generation of storm chasers.
One team—scientists, PhDs with beta tech in their trunks and data collection on their minds—is led by Javi (Anthony Ramos). And yes, his crew carries degrees from MIT, NASA, ETC. But he can’t do it without Kate (Daisy Edgar-Jones).
Team two is a more raucous bunch. Hot YouTuber Tyler Owens (Glen Powell) and his fly-by-the-seat-of-your-truck crew don’t need no stinking degrees. But maybe they also need Kate, who balances Team One’s academic expertise with Team Two’s organic know-how.
Kate doesn’t really need either team, which is one mark in the plus column for a film that doesn’t find a lot of ways to break new ground. It does wait a full hour before putting Powell in a white tee shirt in the rain, though, so at least it exerts a little restraint.
It’s fun, though. Is it big dumb fun? Well, I mean, there may be actual science afoot. I wouldn’t know.
Powell’s as effortlessly charismatic as ever, and it continues to be impossible to root against Ramos, who’s conflict and tenderness almost force you to care what happens. Edgar-Jones cuts a fine presence as hero, and the unexpected turns Twisters takes are welcome.
Yes, most of them are expected, but genuinely solid performances from the leads as well as the full ensemble elevate the script. The writing is better than the plot demands, to be entirely fair, but you don’t go to Twisters for the writing.
The action is arresting. Yes, a couple of set pieces look like MGM Studios attractions, but others—the opening sequence, in particular—impress. But Chung is looking for more than action. He gives his film the very throwback vibe of an 80s style blockbuster. It may be an effort to—as one character literally says—“get everyone into the movie theater” but it might work.
Little Sister, Can’t You Find Another Way?
Oddity
by Hope Madden
Back in 2021, writer/director Damian Mc Carthy cast a spook house spell, rattling chains and all, with his pithy survival story Caveat. He’s back, and with him another claustrophobic but gorgeous supernatural tale of familial grievance.
Carolyn Bracken is Darcy, twin sister of the recently slain Dani (also Bracken). Darcy is a little touched—she still runs the curiosity/antique shop her mother left her and still holds on to the giant wooden man a witch gave her parents for their wedding. Darcy is also blind, so when she arrives at her brother-in-law’s home—the very spot where Dani came to her bloody end—Ted (Gwilym Lee) and his new live-in girlfriend (Caroline Menton) don’t know how to politely ask her to leave. And to take her giant wooden friend with her.
Oddity stitches together a handful of common enough ideas with a few real surprises. More importantly, Mc Carthy hands this tapestry of folklore and soap opera to a nimble cast and a gifted cinematographer. Together this team casts a spell too fun to break.
Mc Carthy’s framing inside and around the house where Dani died is gorgeous, surfaces of buttery caramel colors that shine and echo with the clicks of heels or rattle of ghosts. And when we’re not in this haunted space we’re in the age-old horror stomping grounds of a mental asylum—filmed rigidly and hopelessly, as if to suggest that the science of men is cruel and ugly.
But that beautiful, buttery home—Darcy and the wooden man have claimed that and they have no fear of men and science.
Both Lee and Menton deliver solid performances, while Steve Wall and Tadhg Murphy are flip sides of a terrifying coin. But Bracken owns Oddity—at first the warm and engaging Dani, authentic enough to make you mourn her, and then the elegantly spooky Darcy. Bracken, who was so terrifying and feral in Kate Dolan’s 2022 horror You Are Not My Mother, frightens in a very different way here.
At times Oddity suffers from a throwback sensibility—like an old Tales from the Darkside episode. But there’s no denying Mc Carthy’s talent for creating an atmosphere where anything can happen.
Knock at the Cabin Door
Crumb Catcher
by Hope Madden
You want to see a nice evening unravel quickly?
Chris Skotchdopole takes an intriguing premise—groom gets too drunk on his wedding night and can’t quite remember what happened—and layers on something hypnotically, catastrophically banal.
Leah (Ella Rae Peck) and Shane (Rigo Garay) have not started their marriage off on the best foot. Last night was a bust, but maybe a quiet honeymoon at Leah’s boss’s gorgeous, art-bedecked cabin will right things.
Garay and Peck develop a believable antagonism, Skotchdople’s first sleight of hand. Because the performers and the writing (penned by the director along with Garay and Larry Fessenden) slowly deepen and tenderize the relationship so that you buy them as a couple, and hope for their best.
And then.
Most couples contain one person who cannot bear to be rude to someone no matter how obliviously, insistently annoying that person is. The other member of the couple can’t decide who to be angrier with, the annoying stranger or their own placating partner.
John (the magnificently deranged John Speredakos) is that annoying creature, and you have absolutely met this guy before: doesn’t pick up on hints, aggressively friendly, needy and clearly has an agenda.
So it is with much contention that the newlyweds greet John late on their first night together at the cabin. What follows is a bold mix of home invasion horror, comedy of manners, and absurdist timeshare nightmare.
Skotchdopole’s feature debut benefits from his years behind the camera, including shooting Fessenden’s 2019 Frankenstein analogy, Depraved. Crumb Catcher’s disorienting camera emphasizes its chaotic, freakshow quality and visually represents the rising anxiety of the hellish social trap.
Garay delivers an often internal, tender performance nicely offset by Peck’s droll sarcasm. Lorraine Farris turns in strong support work as well, but Speredakos owns this show. His display of desperation and entitlement turned delusional would be hilarious were it not so unsettling.
Skotchdopole’s managed a tightwire of tones, delivering a tense and compelling thriller that turns banality into a weirdly funny nightmare.
Fright Club: Shadow of War in Horror
You don’t find a lot of outright war/horror genre mashups, but there are a few. Most of them involve murdering Nazis (yay!!). But the shadow of war—its threat, its echoes, its reach toward civilians, its leftover orphans, its cowards and criminals—that influences horror. The Last Circus, Dead Birds, A Serbian Film, 2019’s Guatemalan La Llorona, even The Others – all solid genre films all reeling from the memory of war. But we have other favorites:
5. Ravenous (1999)
The blackest of comedies, the film travels back to the time of the Mexican/American War to throw us in with a cowardly soldier (Guy Pearce) reassigned to a mountainous California outpost where a weary soul wanders into camp with a tale of the unthinkable – his wagon train fell to bad directions, worse weather, and a guide with a taste for human flesh.
Pearce is great as the protagonist struggling against his own demons, trying to achieve some kind of peace with himself and his own shortcomings, but Robert Carlyle steals this movie.
As the wraithlike Colonel Ives, he makes the perfect devil stand-in. Smooth, compelling and wicked, he offsets Pearce’s tortured soul perfectly. The pair heighten the tensions with some almost-sexual tension, which director Antonia Bird capitalizes on brilliantly.
4. Jacob’s Ladder (1990)
Tim Robbins plays Vietnam vet Jacob Singer with a weary sweetness that’s almost too tender and vulnerable to bear. In a blistering supporting turn, Elizabeth Pena impresses as the passionate carnal angel Jezebel. The real star here, weirdly enough, is director Adrian Lyne.
Known more for erotic thrillers, here he beautifully articulates a dreamscape that keeps you guessing. The New York of the film crawls with unseemly creatures hiding among us. Filmed as a grimy, colorless nightmare, Jacob’s Ladder creates an atmosphere of paranoia and dread.
3. The Devil’s Backbone (2001)
The Devil’s Backbone unravels a spectral mystery during Spain’s civil war. The son of a fallen comrade finds himself in an isolated orphanage that has its own troubles to deal with, now that the war is coming to a close and the facility’s staff sympathized with the wrong side. That leaves few resources to help him with a bully, a sadistic handyman, or the ghost.
Backbone is a slow burn as interested in atmosphere and character development as it is in the tragedy of a generation of war orphans. This is ripe ground for a haunted tale, and writer/director Guillermo del Toro’s achievement is both contextually beautiful – war, ghost stories, religion and communism being equally incomprehensible to a pack of lonely boys – and elegantly filmed.
2. Under the Shadow (2016)
First-time feature filmmaker, Iranian Babak Anvari, treads familiar ground yet manages to shift focus entirely and create the profound and unsettling Under the Shadow.
The tale is set in Tehran circa 1988, at the height of the Iran/Iraq war and just a few years into the “Cultural Revolution” that enforced fundamentalist ideologies. Shideh (Narges Rashidi) and her young daughter Dorsa (Avin Manshadi) shelter in their apartment as missiles rain on Tehran.
Frazzled, impatient, judged and constrained from all sides, Shideh’s nerve is hit with this threat. And as external and internal anxieties build, she’s no longer sure what she’s seeing, what she’s thinking, or what the hell to do about it. The fact that this menacing presence – a djinn, or wind spirit – takes the shape of a flapping, floating burka is no random choice. Shideh’s failure in this moment will determine her daughter’s entire future.
1. Pan’s Labyrinth (2006)
Guillermo del Toro’s masterpiece is Influenced visually and logically by fairy tales. It takes us to a fairy tale land but is not set on any existing fairy tale, not unlike Argento’s greatest work, Suspiria (1977), and Jee-woon Kim’s brilliant Tale of Two Sisters (2003).
But honestly, there is nothing on earth quite like Pan’s Labyrinth. A mythical cousin to del Toro’s beautiful 2002 ghost story The Devil’s Backbone, Pan’s Labyrinth follows a terrified, displaced little girl who may be the reincarnation of Princess Moanna, daughter of the King of the Underworld. She must complete three tasks to rejoin her father in her magical realm.
A heartbreaking fantasy about the costs of war, the film boasts amazing performances. Few people play villains—in any language—as well as Sergi Lopez, and Doug Jones inspires terror and wonder in two different roles. But the real star here is del Toro’s imagination, which has never had such a beautiful outlet.
Screening Room: Fly Me to the Moon, Longlegs, Dandelion, The Convert & More
Dirty, Sweet and You’re My Girl
Longlegs
by Hope Madden
Very few 2024 films have been more eagerly anticipated by horror fans than Oz Perkins’s Longlegs. For some, it’s the filmmaker’s criminally underappreciated features The Blackcoat’s Daughter, Gretel & Hansel, and I Am the Pretty Thing That Lives in the House that compel interest in his latest effort.
For others, it’s lead Maika Monroe, a tremendous talent who routinely chooses challenging, satisfying horror, including It Follows, Watcher, The Guest and more. But for most people, let’s be honest, it’s the chance to see Nic Cage play a deeply deranged serial killer. (We are not made of stone!)
Cage excels, as does Monroe—both aided immeasurably by memorable support work from Blair Underwood and Alicia Witt. Monroe is Agent Lee Harker whose “hyper intuitive” nature has her assigned to a confounding case of whole families murdering one another, the only sign of an outside presence being an encoded note left at the scenes.
Monroe’s green FBI agent is as stiff and awkwardly internal as Cage’s psycho is theatrical. Her terror is as authentic as his lunacy.
Perkins shines as bright as ever, too. As always, his shot selection and framing evoke dark poetry. His use of light and shadow, architecture and space is like no one else’s.
His Longlegs direction and writing contain provocative notes of his own Blackcoat’s Daughter, but the plotting here is anchored by something slightly more predictable. I defy you to watch Blackcoat’s Daughter and figure out where it’s going, and yet it ends up exactly where it needs to be. For all the many fascinating flourishes and unsettling performances in Longlegs, there is something here that feels more obvious than any of the filmmaker’s previous films. Maybe it’s the clear influence of 90s thrillers: The Silence of the Lambs, Zodiac, maybe even a little bit of Se7en.
It is nagging—the sense, for the first time in any of his films, of recognizability. But don’t let that deter you. In many ways, it’s Perkins’s sleight of hand, his way of suggesting one thing while saying something else, of rooting audiences in something familiar expressly to pull that comfy rug away.
Longlegs is strangely beautiful, deeply unnerving, and a fine reason to be a horror fan.
Queen City
Dandelion
by Hope Madden
Filmmaker Nicole Riegel returns to her Southern Ohio roots, but Dandelion delivers a decidedly more lyrical look at the Buckeye state than her remarkable 2021 indie breakout, Holler.
Kiki Layne is Dandelion, a frustrated musician playing to disinterested crowds at a hotel bar in Cincinnati. Confronted by the reality of her shelf life, she heads to a biker rally in North Dakota for an audition to open for a major touring act. The audition goes terribly, but she meets Casey (Gossip Girl’s Thomas Doherty), who rekindles her dying flame of creativity—among other things.
The film plays a bit like an American version of John Carney’s Once. Loosely plotted around songwriting sessions and picturesque sightseeing, Dandelion delivers more harmony than melody, but that’s often OK. When the script weakens—a convenient stretch of dialog, a predictable turn of the plot—cinematographer Lauren Guiteras’s camera, Layne and Doherty’s performances and the music itself strengthens.
Doherty’s all vulnerability and tenderness. Layne—in easily her best role since If Beale Street Could Talk—finds a way to hold anger, resignation, hope and joy in the same moment.
Riegel’s depiction of intimacy, in the core relationship as well as the act of creation, is tactile: fingertips, chords, a rock’s surface, veins throbbing in a throat. There’s real poetry in the direction, in the way voiceover conversation floats around landscapes and sunsets, Black Hills and backroads.
The live music is as infectious as the romance, although neither is really the point. Dandelion is a character study at heart, and Layne more than delivers on that promise. But Riegel does get a little bogged down with the beauty and atmosphere—as lovely as the film is, at a full two hours, some of the poetic meandering feels like filler.
It’s interesting to see Riegel take such a sharp turn from the grim authenticity of Holler to the poetic beauty of Dandelion, but there is a common thread of fighting to find and keep yourself that gives both films focus and life.
