Tag Archives: Madd at the Movies

Walk This Way

The Long Walk

by Hope Madden

How fitting that Stephen King’s capitalist dystopian nightmare The Long Walk has finally been brought to the screen by director Francis Lawrence. Having helmed four Hunger Games films, including the most recent prequel, The Hunger Games: Ballad of Sonbirds & Snakes, he knows his way around these battles for what crumbs the wealthy deign to throw.

Based on King’s 1979 novel, the film follows a group of young men, each of whom signed up for and were chosen to participate in a last man standing competition: one road, one winner, no finish line. Walk until there’s no one else walking. The catch is that you can’t quit. Hell, you can’t even slow down. You walk until you die, either of exhaustion or by bullet spray (should you break the rules).

Lawrence has gathered a talented cast for these characters, beginning with everybody’s nemesis, the condescending voice of support and doom bellowing from the megaphone. Mark Hamill plays The Major with the perfect combination of swagger and benevolence to be contemptible without veering into caricature.

As Ray, our hero, Cooper Hoffman impresses, even when he’s saddled with King’s unfortunately quaint dialog. The camaraderie among the “four musketeers”— Ray, Pete (David Jonsson), Arthur (Tut Nyuot), and Hank (Ben Wang)—feels contrived from the beginning, Still, Cooper and Jonsson (so impressive in Alien: Romulus) share genuine chemistry, each elevating scenes with a glance, a shrug, a change in tone. Hoffman, in particular, plays nimbly with each of the other marchers, always delivering exactly the tone needed to keep someone’s head on straight and feet moving forward. Unsurprisingly, his moments with the invaluable Judy Greer (as Ray’s mother) are tender and heartbreaking.

This is a story most have deemed unfilmable given the utterly straightforward narrative. Cinematically, there’s not a lot you can do besides walk alongside 50 or so actors as they dwindle in number. There’s little opportunity to show rather than tell. Characters are defined by their dialog, and often, they’re narrowly etched.

But JT Mollner (Strange Darling) finds sly opportunities to broaden what is essentially a war metaphor—soldiers walking side by side, friendly enough but each hoping he’s the one who survives. Mollner and Lawrence subtly draw attention to the dystopian capitalist spectacle of boys walking themselves into an early grave, all so the rest of the country can watch and learn to be good, hard workers.  

The Long Walk, as is always the case, will upset King purists because of its handful of plot changes. But when it comes to delivering a cinematic experience with an unfilmable novel, the movie’s a winner.

Fright Club: Evil Uncles in Horror Movies

Did Shakespeare start it all with Uncle Claudius? Maybe, but horror movies have really dug in. Yes, there are some excellent uncles, like drunky Uncle Red from Silver Bullet. That guy was the best! But that’s not what we’re after, and author Eric Miller, writer of the new novel Whatever Happened to Uncle Ed? knows a thing or two about uncles and horror, so he’s joined us to count them down!

5. Uncle Maurice, Possum (2018)

Sean Harris is endlessly sympathetic in this tale of childhood trauma. Philip (Harris) has returned to his burned out, desolate childhood home after some unexplained professional humiliation. His profession? Puppeteer. The puppet itself seems to be a part of the overall problem.

I don’t know why the single creepiest puppet in history—a man-sized marionnette with a human face and spider’s body—could cause any trouble. Kids can be so delicate.

Writer/director Matthew Holness spins a smalltown mystery around the sad story of a grown man who is confused about what’s real and what isn’t. As Uncle Maurice, Alun Armstrong cuts as dilapidated and corrosive a figure as Philip’s home and memories themselves. The melancholy story and Harris’s exceptional turn make Possum a tough one to forget.

4. Michael Myers, Halloween 4, 5 & 6 (1988, 1989, 1995)

In 1988, no one realized the Halloween franchise could be saved. Tarnished by the (now unreasonably popular and beloved) Halloween III, The Return of Michael Myers was expected to be a last gasp. it was not. The film, about the adorable little orphan left behind when Laurie Strode and her husband died in a car wreck, Halloween 4 not only saved the franchise with its remarkable popularity, but gave the slumping slasher genre a boost.

Danielle Harris starred, charming her way into our hearts as surely as the child in peril plot line kept us engaged. The film did so surprisingly well that it spawned a quickly slapped together, wildly inferior sequel a year later, also starring Harris. And then, to beat a dead horse and absolutely horrify anyone with fond memories of little Jamie, 1995’s Halloween 6 turns Myers from and uncle to a great uncle/father. Yeesh.

3. Uncle Kouzuki, The Handmaiden (2016)

Director Park Chan-wook had already investigated the influence of a sinister uncle in the woefully underseen Stoker in 2013. In 2016, that not-so-stable branch of the family tree inspires the auteur to mesmerize again with this seductive story of a plot to defraud a Japanese heiress in the 1930s.

Weird is an excellent word to describe this film. Gorgeous and twisty with criss-crossing loyalties and deceptions, all filmed with such stunning elegance. Set in Korea, the film follows a young domestic (Kim TAe-ri) in a sumptuous Japanese household. She’s to look after the beautiful heiress (KimMin-hee), a woman whose uncle (Cho Jin-woong) is as perverse and creepy as he is wealthy.

Smart and wicked, stylish and full of wonderful twists, The Handmaiden is a masterwork of delicious indulgence.

2. Uncle Charlie, Shadow of a Doubt (1943)

Alfred Hitchcock did the most damage with his mother/son relationships, but the unnerving bond between Charlie Newton (Teresa Wright) and her favorite Uncle Charlie (Joseph Cotton) picks some festering scabs.

After a series of heiress murders, Charlie heads to smalltown America to lay low with his older sister, who adores him. Loves him so much, she named her oldest after him, even though it was a daughter. And oh, newly teenaged Charlie is a firebrand and just as spunky and smart as her namesake!

The film examines narcissism as unnervingly as any ever has, Uncle Charlie an amiable enough guy, and he might really regret having to murder his niece. All within that weirdly stilted performance style Hitchcock preferred, the cracks and anxieties and almost sexual innuendos play against the wholesome Midwest aesthetic in a way that gnaws at you.

1. Uncle Frank, Hellraiser (1987)

Hellraiser, Clive Barker’s feature directing debut, worked not only as a grisly splatterfest, but also as a welcome shift from the rash of teen slasher movies that followed the success of Halloween. Barker was exploring more adult, decidedly kinkier fare, and Hellraiser is steeped in themes of S&M and the relationship between pleasure and pain.

Hedonist Frank Cotton (Sean Chapman) solves an ancient puzzle box, which summons the fearsome Cenobites, who literally tear Frank apart and leave his remains rotting in the floorboards of an old house. Years later, Frank’s brother moves into that house with his teenage daughter Kirsty (Ashley Lawrence), who begins to unravel the freaky shit Uncle Frank and stepmom Julia (an amazing Clare Higgins) get up to.

Smart, weird, transgressive, and most importantly, CENOBITES!

Fright Club Extra: The Long Walk

It was so cool to get to host the Columbus premier of the new Stephen King adaptation The Long Walk! We’re grateful to the great crowd at Gateway Film Center for joining us for the screening and for sticking around for a spoiler-free chat about the movie.

Every Breath You Take

Lurker

by Hope Madden

Like 2021’s Poser, Noah Dixon and Ori Segev’s thriller of fandom gone feral, writer/director Alex Russell’s Lurker hangs on the cringey relatability of its awestruck lead. Who hasn’t dreamed of being taken into their hero’s inner circle?

Théodore Pellerin is Matthew. Working in a hip LA clothier, Matthew meets rising pop phenom Oliver (Archie Madekwe, Saltburn, Gran Turismo). Quietly, expertly, Matthew manipulates the situation to become the opposite of what he really is: sincere, oblivious to Oliver’s fame, an outsider with taste. Smitten, Oliver invites Matthew to a show.

What follows is a series of steps in Matthew’s budding friendship with the emotionally unfaithful Oliver. Russell never overplays the sleights of hand, the seeds sown, as Matthew the opportunist situates himself within Oliver’s posse.

Russell’s nimble screenplay delivers something sharp, bright, and delightfully morally murky. Though Matthew possesses a dorky, humble charm, we recognize his deception the moment he meets Oliver, so we’re never expected to fully empathize with or root for him.

At the same time, Oliver’s fickle affection makes him hard to pity. The whole entourage swirls with narcissism and insecurity. There’s something a touch Shakespearean about the drama that gives it a timeless quality, while its situation within the “attention as currency” climate lends it immediacy and relevance.

Madekwe is the perfect blend of charm, arrogance, insincerity and vulnerability. His character arc is wild, but the actor never misses a step.

Pellerin delivers a subtly unnerving performance, endearing one moment, volatile the next. The anxiety seething just below Matthew’s smiling surface informs an insecurity that recognizes itself in Oliver. It’s here that Russell’s perceptive screenplay does the most psychological damage, fully separating Lurker from other poisonous fan films.  

It’s a quietly effecting study of the way the desire for fame alienates and isolates, whether you’ve achieved some level of fame or you’re happy to siphon it from someone else. Russell’s direction and his cast keep you anxious and keep you guessing.

Candy Colored Clown

Somnium

by Hope Madden

Hollywood is one big nightmare. That’s essentially the plot of writer/director Rachel Cain’s feature debut, a dreamscape where you’re never certain what Gemma (Chloë Levin) is experiencing and what she’s imagining.

Levine’s cinematic presence, no matter the film, is wholly natural, utterly authentic. There’s nothing uncanny about her. Her humanity and vulnerability inform every moment she’s onscreen. That may be why she’s such a perfect central figure in horror films like The Ranger, The Transfiguration, and The Sacrifice Game. However unnatural the plot or nemesis, Levine is a profoundly human anchor.

In this surreal Hollywood fable—part Neon Demon, part Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, part Inception, part The Substance—Gemma leaves a small town in Georgia to chase her Hollywood dreams. Lonesome, rejected, lost and always one step away from homelessness and failure, she takes a job at an experimental sleep clinic where people dream their way into believing they can achieve their ideal future.

Gamma works nights, studying scripts and babysitting sleeping clients. By day she auditions, faces rejection, daydreams about her old life, and flirts with the possibly creepy, possibly benevolent Hollywood insider, Brooks (Jonathan Schaech).

But the daydreams are leaking into her waking moments, huge chunks of time keep disappearing, and there’s this contorted figure with a twisted spine she keeps catching in her peripheral vision.

Cain’s script lacks a little something in originality—hers is hardly the first cautionary tale about striking it out on your own in Hollywood. Still, in subverting the idea of big dreams, playing with the notion that perception is reality, and mining the vulnerability and predatory nature of those with and without power in Tinsel Town, she hits a nerve.

She leaves too much unresolved, which is frustrating. But scene by scene, Cain casts a spell both horrifying and hopeful. Though the entire ensemble is strong, Levine is her secret weapon. The film falls apart if you don’t feel protective of Gemma, if you don’t long for her to succeed. Characteristically, Levine has you in her corner, even when lurking doom waits behind her in the shadows.

Baseball Metaphors and Drug Money

Caught Stealing

by Hope Madden

Watching the trailer for the new Austin Butler actioner Caught Stealing, it’s easy to forget it’s a Darren Aronofsky film. Yes, the guy who swung from Requiem for a Dream to Noah has an interest in varied material, but a zany, sexy, urban action romp? None of those words feel right for an Aronofsky.

Fitting, because that’s not at all what Caught Stealing is. Based on the Charlie Huston novel, the film trails a good-looking, well-intentioned New York alcoholic named Hank (Butler). Hank sometimes looks after his punk rock neighbor Russ’s (Matt Smith) cat, and Russ has to rush back to London on account of his dad’s stroke. In his rush, Russ seems to have forgotten that a whole bunch of very bad people are looking for something he has, and they assume Hank knows where to find it.

Yes, that does sound like it could be sexy and zany. The wild bunch that populates the tale—Hank’s girlfriend Yvonne (Zoë Kravitz), his hard rockin’ hippie boss (Griffin Dunne), the Russians (Nikita Kukushkin and Yuri Kolokolnikov), the Hebrews (Liev Schrieber and Vincent D’Onofrio), and the cop (Regina King)—certainly carry a madcap vibe. But the film turns on a dime with an act of shocking violence, and Aronofsky reminds us again that we’re never fully safe in his hands.

It could feel like a mismatch—the hyper serious, even sometimes punishing auteur helming a glossy mistaken identity action thriller. It’s not. It’s probably the best thing that could have happened to the property.

It’s fun to see Aronofsky—who scarred us so deeply with Requiem, and Black Swan, and The Wrestler, let’s not even talk about Mother!—cut loose a little bit. Laugh. Shoot some people.

But we never really lose him. His camera is trained on all the details a more glamorous version of the film might skim over: the blood and urine pooling under Hank after his first beating., for instance. Who but Aronofsky would have chosen to film Hank’s drunken, projectile vomit from the point of view of the window it slaps against?

It also helps that the hijinks are driven by such remarkable talent. Smith and Dunne are both a riot, and King toes the line between comic foil and badass like the professional she is.

The depth and the darkness, the broken humanity and festering shame, those are the themes that might surprise folks looking for the new Austin Butler blockbuster. They’re lucky.  

Scenes from the Opioid Epidemic

What We Hide

by Hope Madden

At 19, Mckenna Grace has racked up 71 TV and film acting credits, with 11 more movies currently in post-production. That’s insane. Naturally not every project was a winner. But from her earliest film work, like Marc Webb’s 2017 drama Gifted, Grace’s control and authenticity make her memorable, even when the projects are not.

Writer/director Dan Kay’s streamer What We Hide benefits immeasurably from Grace’s presence. She plays Spider, 15-year-old daughter of an addict. With her younger sister Jessie (Jojo Regina), Spider discovers the overdosed corpse of her mother in the opening moments of the film.

Recognizing that foster care would almost certainly mean splitting her from her sister, Spider decides to hide the body and say nothing. Now all the girls have to do is steer clear of their mom’s volatile dealer (Dacre Montgomery), the town’s goodhearted sheriff (Jesse Williams), and the latest case worker, whom they not-so-affectionately call “Baby Thief” (Tamara Austin).

Grace is terrific, and the chemistry she shares with Regina buoys some otherwise clunky dialog. The cast around them does admirable work with even more obvious characters. The always welcome Forrest Goodluck (Revenant, Blood Quantum, How to Blow Up a Pipeline) carries love interest Cody with a naturalism that gives his scenes an indie vibe that comes close to offsetting the after school special tenor delivered by the rest of the effort.

Commendable performances from a solid cast don’t make up for Kay’s uninspired direction. Bland framing marries banal plotting to leech some of the vibrance this cast injects into scenes.

It doesn’t help that the story veers so rarely from the obvious that the occasional flash of originality—the couple from the motel, the case worker’s phone calls—stand out as opportunities left unexplored.

Had Kay been able to situate his tale from the opioid epidemic in a recognizable place, given the community some personality, or found a less by-the-book way to complicate What We Hide, he might have had something. Instead, the film is a well-intentioned waste of a good cast.

Some Dude with a Mop

The Toxic Avenger

by Hope Madden

My friend has photographed Lloyd Kaufman’s testicles. That means that in a game of Six Degrees of Lloyd Kaufman’s Testicles, I would win.

In other news, a bunch of talented, funny humans have rebooted Kaufman’s iconic 1984 Troma classic, The Toxic Avenger. There are few films I have more impatiently anticipated than this, plagued as it was by a two-year delay in distribution. But now you can see writer/director Macon Blair’s reboot in all its goopy, corrosive, violent, hilarious glory.

Though the story’s changed, much remains the same (including Easter eggs a plenty!).

Winston (Peter Dinklage), single stepfather to Wade (Jacob Tremblay) and janitor at a factory that makes wellness and beauty supplements, finds that he’s dying and his platinum insurance doesn’t cover the treatment that could save his life. Attempting to steal the money to cover the treatment, he saves a whistleblower (Taylour Paige) from a group of horror core hip hop parkour assassins but winds up in a pool of toxic sludge.

Let’s pause for a second to marvel at this cast. Dinklage is one of the most talented actors working today, and as Winston he is effortlessly heartbreaking and tender. He’s also really funny, and this is not necessarily the kind of humor every serious actor can pull off.

Paige, who has impressed in Zola and Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom, among other film, also seems built for Blair’s particular brand of Troma comedy. And Tremblay, beloved since his excruciatingly perfect turn in Room as a small boy, gives the film its angsty heartbeat.

Plus, Kevin Bacon as the narcissistic weasel owner of the wellness and beauty empire killing the planet. He hates to be called Bozo (IYKYK).

Blair made his directorial debut with 2017’s underseen treasure, I Don’t Feel at Home in This World Anymore, though he’s better known as the lynchpin performer in many of Jeremy Saulnier’s films (Blue Ruin, Green Room, Murder Party). He and Kaufman both deliver laughs in small roles, but he impresses most as the mind behind the mayhem.

His vision for this film couldn’t be more spot-on. Joyous, silly, juvenile, insanely violent, hateful of the bully, in love with the underdog—Blair’s Toxic Avenger retains the best of Troma, rejects the worst, and crafts something delirious and wonderful.