Tag Archives: Madd at the Movies

Fright Club

Fright Club: Weddings in Horror

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Brides are terrifying. That is a simple fact. It’s just one of the reasons that weddings are so ripe for horror’s picking: emotions are high, the promise of a lovely future creates ironic tension, a lot of people are confined (and often drunk). And do you really know who you’re binding yourself to for the rest of your life? We invite you to the best in wedding day horror.

5. [Rec] 3: Genesis (2012)

Paco Plaza’s third [REC] installment takes place simultaneously with his original found footage classic but picks up on the religious elements of the first sequel.

It’s wedding day for Clara (Leticia Dolera, badass) and Koldo (Diego Martín), but one guest was bitten by a dog and that is not going to bode well for the many, many guests at the reception. The confined chaos is all viscera and glory, perfectly staged and executed. There’s a lack of cynicism in this film that suits it and makes the finale more touching than what you might expect.

4. Ready or Not (2019)

Directors Matt Bettinelli-Olpin and Tyler Gillett (Scream, Scream IV, Abigail) invite you to join one happy couple as they plunge into a world where the wealthiest among us would rather commit murder than do without what none of them worked very hard to earn. The inky black comedy plays like a game of Clue gone mad with arterial spray.

Samara Weaving is reliably badass, her central performance elevated by the sometimes inspired work of the ensemble. Andie MacDowell, in particular, seems to be enjoying herself immensely. It’s fun, it’s funny, and it’s a bloody mess.

3. The Lure (2015)

Who’s up for Polish vampire mermaids? Gold (Michalina Olszanska) and Silver (Marta Mazurek) are not your typical movie mermaids, and director Agnieszka Smoczynska’s feature debut The Lure is not your typical – well, anything. The musical fable offers a vivid mix of fairy tale, socio-political commentary, whimsy and throat tearing.

Underneath everything, this is The Little Mermaid, leading to the big wedding. Expect lurid side turns, fetishistic explorations, dissonant musical numbers and a host of other vaguely defined sea creatures to color the fable.

2. Freaks (1932)

Short and sweet, like most of its performers, Tod Browning’s controversial film Freaks is one of those movies you will never forget. Populated almost entirely by unusual actors – amputees, the physically deformed, and an honest to god set of conjoined twins (Daisy and Violet Hilton) – Freaks makes you wonder whether you should be watching it at all. This, of course, is an underlying tension in most horror films, but with Freaks, it’s right up front. Is what Browning does with the film empathetic or exploitative, or both? And, of course, am I a bad person for watching this film?

Well, that’s not for us to say. We suspect you may be a bad person, perhaps even a serial killer. Or maybe that’s Hope. What we can tell you for sure is that this film is unsettling, and the final, rainy act of vengeance after a wedding ceremony gone wrong is truly creepy to watch.

1. Demon (2015)

The British Piotr travels to his Polish fiance’s old family vacation home for a proper Catholic wedding. There he attempts to maneuver a new language, impress reluctant in-laws, and grasp wife-to-be Zaneta’s (Agnieszka Zulewska) heritage. Though Zaneta’s family is reluctant to embrace him, a wandering spirit is happy to.

Director/co-writer Marcin Wrona’s final feature (he ended his life at a festival where the film was playing) offers a spooky, atmospheric rumination on cultural loss. Like the mournful soul that clings to poor bridegroom Piotr (Itay Tiran), Demon sticks to you.

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Live! From New York!

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Saturday Night

by Hope Madden

Saturday Night Live has been on the air for 50 years. That is insane. Most people alive today in the U.S. cannot remember a time before SNL. But Jason Reitman wants you to recall that it wasn’t supposed to work, that it had no business working, and that whatever it is today, it once was an absolute cultural explosion.

Reitman, who directs and co-writes with his Ghostbusters collaborator Gil Kenan, delivers such chaotic energy that you almost forget there is a script. The choreography of longtime collaborator Eric Steelberg’s camera emphasizes the film’s livewire atmosphere, but the fact that Saturday Night pulls off this kind of frenetic lawlessness bears witness to Reitman’s mastery of his craft.

At the center of the whirlwind is Lorne Michaels (Gabriel LaBelle, The Fabelmans and Snack Shack). NBC doesn’t really expect this “not ready for prime time” experiment to work. At all. And based on the anarchy leading up to showtime, you wonder yourself, even though we already know the outcome.

LaBelle—an undeniable talent at this point—easily anchors the film with a vulnerability, kindness and optimism that makes Michaels hard to root against but almost as hard to believe in. That conflict is necessary for the film to build any real tension or make any meaningful connection, and LaBelle humanizes the madness.

He’s surrounded by a massive ensemble that impresses with every turn. Reitman chooses to highlight certain personalities you may not expect—Chevy Chase (Cory Michael Smith), sure, but also a show-stealing Garrett Morris (Lamorne Morris, exceptional). Dylan O’Brien (as Dan Aykroyd), Rachel Sennott (as head writer Rosie Shuster), Cooper Hoffman (as producer Dick Ebersol) and Tommy Dewey (as caustic comedy genius Michael O’Donoghue) are particular stand outs. But the J.K. Simmons cameo as Mr. Television Milton Berle is priceless.

At its heart, Saturday Night fits into that tried-and-true “let’s put on a show” picture, but it’s the remarkable way Reitman captures the cultural shift this program marked that leaves a lasting impression.

Saturday Night also bursts with laugh-out-loud moments, little triumphs, fascinating callbacks and infectious energy. It can be hard to see today’s SNL in this riotous recollection, but there’s real history in these 90 minutes—and so much cocaine. History rarely looked like this much fun.

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Twinkle Twinkle

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Falling Stars

by Hope Madden

Co-directors Gabriel Bienczycki and Richard Karpala balance the banal with the uncanny in their desert folk horror, Falling Stars.

Three brothers sit around a fire pit by the garage in some middle of the San Bernadino County desert. Their dad is eager for them to put the damn fire out and get inside. They know why he’s agitated—it’s the first night of harvest, and the falling stars will appear at any moment.

And around these parts, everybody knows those ain’t stars.

That’s what Falling Stars delivers—the creeping, growing sense that people do know. The inhabitants hereabouts may not have much, but the film never makes them out to be ignorant or caricatured. This story is not from a patronizing point of view—look at what these rubes believe. There’s a levelheaded authenticity, a lived-in superstitious normality that pervades the film and gets under the skin.

The film, written by Karpala and expertly lensed by Bienczycki, creates a sense of place with lonesome landscapes, all stars and sky and desert roads leading to nowhere. So, the brothers—Mike, the eldest (Shaun Duke Jr.); Adam, the youngster (Rene Leech); and Sal in the middle (Andrew Gabriel)—know better than to get into the pickup and head out.

But the sun won’t be down for more than an hour, and Mike knows something his brothers don’t. Their buddy Rob (Greg Poppa) not only saw a witch, but he shot one and buried her in a tarp out in the desert. Who wants to see her?

It’s the same kind of innocent yet macabre curiosity that fueled Stand By Me, except Falling Stars replaces nostalgia and melancholy with witchcraft and curses.

The filmmakers keep the tensions heightened, much thanks to the endearingly vulnerable and human performances of their ensemble. Little acts of friendliness balance with little acts of cowardice, logic gives way to magical thinking, but the fear is real.

A b-story involving an am radio host goes nowhere, but a single scene with the boys’ mama (Diane Worman) turns the supernatural thriller into a psychological horror in seconds.

Falling Stars delivers a fresh take on an age-old tale, but it feels like it’s lived out there in the desert waiting forever.

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Holly Jolly

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Terrifier 3

by Hope Madden

Horror cinema has a long, conflicted relationship with Christmas movies, especially those boasting a maniacal Santa Claus. In 1984, Silent Night, Deadly Night found itself yanked from theaters only days after its release. The Netherlands removed every poster of Dick Maas’s 2010 Saint from public display because its depiction of St. Nick was deemed too disturbing for children.

If Christmas horror tends to be the most divisive and the likeliest to offend, then it seems like an obvious choice for the next installment in Damien Leone’s Terrifier series.

Yes, Art the Clown (David Howard Thornton) has left Halloween behind in favor of a jollier holiday. But wait, you say. Wasn’t Art decapitated at the end of Terrifier 2?

Please see Halloween H2O and its follow up, Halloween: Resurrection.

Actually, don’t. Resurrection is easily among the worst in the franchise. Suffice it to say, decapitation does not mean the end of a true horror franchise villain, especially when his films are raking in the cash. And there is no doubt that Art has gone the way of Jason Voorhees and Michael Myers—silent, deadly, and able to really bounce back from injury. Death, even.

So, it’s Christmas Eve in Miles County and Sienna (Lauren LaVera, decapitator from T2), recently released from a psychiatric hospital, is spending the holidays with her aunt, uncle and little cousin Gabbie (Antonella Rose).

Art’s been waiting (in a nice callback to Black Christmas, among the finest and first holiday horrors). He’s not alone, and that’s too bad because he’s more fun on his own. His guest is part of a convoluted explanation for his re-capitation (I did make that up, thank you). But do we need to understand it?

Weak spots include most references to the magic and mental illness of the tediously long (2 ½ hours, whew!) Terrifier 2. Strengths involve a barroom scene with cameos aplenty, plus a nod to The Texas Chain Saw Massacre—once considered the most nihilistic and violent of all horror films. Once.

What has set Art the Clown apart from other unstoppable genre monsters is his sadism. Michael was mainly efficient with his kills. Jason could be inventive. Art delights in the pain and terror, and his holiday killing spree offers loads of opportunities to exercise his depraved imagination.

Thornton is again a charismatic villain, and he gets his own Christmas song this time, which is undeniably fun. The third installment is not nearly as lean and mean as the original, nor is it as bloated and ludicrous as the second. As crazy as it sounds when you’re talking about watching limbs being torn off a screaming human’s body, the carnage does get tiresome after a while.  

If you dug the previous Art the Clown films, you will find endless entertainment in the newest. You’ll also find mediocre acting and dumb plotting but really excellent practical effects. And blood by the bucketful.

The Screening Room

Screening Room: Joker: Folei à Deux, Salem’s Lot, White Bird & More

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Joker: Folie à Deux, Salem’s Lot, White Bird, Things Will Be Different, Frankie Freako, Hold Your Breath, V/H/S Beyond, The Platform 2, The Wait, Me Myself and the Void

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Send In the Clowns

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Joker: Folie à Deux

by Hope Madden and George Wolf

Five years ago, Todd Philips made a dangerous film, a comic book movie through a fractured Scorsese viewfinder that cried with the clown the world said was not funny. Cleverly bitter, it was an excellent retooling of Scorsese’s violently alienated loner. But mainly it was a stage for the unerring brilliance of Joaquin Phoenix.

Phillips’s sequel, Joker: Folie à Deux (which means “delusion or mental illness shared by two people”) revisits poor Arthur Fleck shortly before he stands trial for murdering five people, including late night talk show host Murray Franklin (Robert De Niro).

Fleck is a shell of his former self. No jokes, no laughter. Until prison guard Jackie Sullivan (Brendan Gleeson) gets Arthur included in a singing class over in the minimum-security ward, where Arthur meets Lee Quinzel (Lady Gaga).

And suddenly, Arthur has a song in his heart.

Phoenix continues to be so good he’s worrisome. Gaga delivers on nearly the same level—which is unheard of—and her spark is sorely missed when she’s not onscreen. Philips flanks the couple with two of the business’s best, Catherine Keener as Arthur’s lawyer and Gleeson, whose brutish jocularity is alarmingly authentic.

Where Phillips found the tone for his alienated white man in Scorsese, his love story takes on the fantastical theatricality of a musical. It’s a choice that works better in theory than execution, mainly because the sequel is almost entirely confined to prison and courtroom drama. The pace is leaden, the grim brutality repetitive. Where the first film used a half dozen or so profoundly human scenes to break your heart, the sequel fetishizes Arthur’s misery to the point of sadism.

Phillips surrounds the terrific ensemble (which includes another memorable turn from Leigh Gill) with several well-staged set pieces, but the ambition of this new vision soon finds itself battling curiosity and tedium.

Phoenix and Gaga make a truly electric pair, but as the courtroom scenes drag on its not hard to side with Lee’s impatience at the strategy in play. What begins as a relevant comment on the blurring of realities descends into a self indulgence that seems to find Phillips still taking on critics of his first Joker film.

The clear Scorsese moments amid all the musical numbers are an appropriate reminder of how the film can’t quite bring its ambitions of mold-breaking to fruition. And as it leaves behind a slightly open door, Folie à Deux exits the stage as a dark, frustrating exercise, as capable of painful beauty as it is of clowning around.

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Time After Time

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Thing Will Be Different

by Hope Madden

Writer/director Michael Felker has never made a feature film. What he has done is work alongside Justin Benson and Aaron Moorehead as editor on every feature they’ve made since 2014’s Spring. It shows.

With Felker’s heady brother-sister time loop twister Things Will Be Different, the filmmaker revisits many of the themes that have marked each of Benson and Moorehead’s features (the duo produces and Moorehead has a cameo). But this film carves out its own identity.

We meet Sidney (Riley Dandy) and Joe (Adam David Thompson) not long after some kind of robbery. We know nothing of the crime itself, just that they’d gotten separated and have reunited at a little diner. From there they’ll head to a house. A house where they’ll be safe.

Sid has a daughter she needs to get back to. Joe doesn’t have much, but he looks forward to making up lost time with his kid sister while they hide out for two weeks. It’s not that the house itself is hidden—hell, they walked to it through a cornfield. It’s that it takes them to a place outside of time.

But the thing is, they’re not supposed to be there, and that complicates things when they want to go back home.

Among the film’s many qualities is the lo-fi time travel. The isolated farmhouse the pair flees to is anything but fantastical. Neither is the combination safe, or the hand-held cassette recorder for communicating across time. It’s all as clever and satisfying as it is budget friendly.

Felker’s writing is consistently compelling, his script offering both leads everything they need to build a lived-in, fractured relationship full of longing and bitterness. The clues concerning the time loop itself are just as clever and satisfying, every element fitting the retro vibe that itself feels delightfully out of time.

Felker’s film is certainly reminiscent of much of Benson and Moorehead’s work, although it also calls to mind a handful of other time benders, from Tenet to Timecrimes. But it never feels borrowed.

Felker uses time travel as an understated and poignant metaphor for the harmful cycles you find in relationships, especially in families. Thanks to sharp writing, stylish direction and a couple of well-crafted performances, he further separates his time travel fantasy from the scores of others and keeps you guessing until the last, powerful frame.

Shudder Premiere

4th Kind’s the Charm

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V/H/S/Beyond

by Hope Madden

It’s that time again. Time to blow into the cassette basket, ignore the blinking 12:00 and press play on another found footage anthology, V/H/S/Beyond.

The seventh installment in the series focuses (mainly) on left-behind evidence of alien encounters, plus one really weird but entirely unconnected doggy daycare nightmare.

This installment’s wraparound story comes not from a horror filmmaker but from award-winning documentarian Jay Cheel. He invites viewers to investigate the “evidence”—videotapes that may or may not tell of visitors—by way of the documentary “Alien Encounters: Fact or Fiction.” The primary story under the experts’ eye is of an Ontario home and a missing man.

In between talking head evaluations of that footage, we’re treated to a smattering of other “evidence.”  The most fun is Jordan Downey’s Stork. Downey enlists a first person shooter style to follow a police standoff at a home where missing babies may be stashed. Funhouse gimmicks keep it lively, but the short’s main success is its particular spin on the alien itself.

Virat Pal’s Dream Girl, an interstellar twist on Bollywood stardom, is inventive fun, although the concept of found footage (unretouched or edited footage) is most betrayed in this short.

This brings us to the three most common problems in found footage. 1) How did the found footage get edited together from multiple cameras and angles? 2) Why didn’t the camera operator put the camera down to save themselves and others? 3) How and where was the footage left to be found? To a certain degree, you need to let go of at least one of these details or you can’t enjoy the film. But it gets tough.

Life and Let Dive from Justin Martinez (longtime friend of the franchise) takes us on a 30th birthday skydiving party gone wrong. Shot GoPro style, the short is consistently entertaining, delivers carnage aplenty and one really solid jump scare, plus good-looking aliens. Also, no egregious rule breaking.

The weirdest and possibly most disturbing belongs to directors Christian and Justin Long (the actor, who does not appear). Their short, Fur Babies, has absolutely nothing to do with aliens. Instead, it tails a delightfully unhinged doggy daycare professional (Libby Letlow). There’s also zero integrity in the footage—where it came from and how it was assembled—but there is some wonderfully unseemly stuff happening in the basement.

Kate Siegel’s Stow Away delivers a one-person documentary on recent desert sightings. The segment is strangely fascinating, and Alanah Pearce offers a compelling central performance. Solid creature effects and a logical arc of horror also elevate this one, but you can’t finish it without wondering: how did the world discover this tape?

Found footage horror still manages to strike a chord for a lot of people, and the V/H/S franchise routinely collects an intriguing assortment of films and filmmakers celebrating the form. Beyond is neither the best nor the worst in the series. It does hold some impressive scares and imaginative takes on the old encounter notion.

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Dust to Dust

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Hold Your Breath

by Hope Madden

Among the least examined perspectives in Westerns is the woman’s. In the rare instance that a filmmaker looks closely at what it was like for a woman on the wild frontier, the tale isn’t happy.

Earlier this year, writer/director/co-star Viggo Mortensen’s Western The Dead Don’t Hurt reexamined masculine nobility as abandonment. A decade ago, Tommy Lee Jones’s underseen The Homesman mined a very real phenomenon that befell many brides of the West. But Karrie Crouse and William Joines’s Hold Your Breath—actually set in the 1930s Oklahoma Dust Bowl rather than being a strict Western—feels more akin with Emma Tammi’s 2018 horror, The Wind.

The always magnificent Sarah Paulson is Margaret Bellum, mother to Rose (Amiah Miller) and Ollie (Alona Jane Robbins), left to keep the family together while her husband travels to build bridges until the rain returns and their little farm can flourish again. In the meantime, Margaret and the girls are surrounded on all sides, as far as the eye can see and even farther, by dry, useless dirt.

Like Tammi’s horror, Hold Your Breath weaves maternal tragedy with societal pressures and supernatural legend to create a sometimes-hypnotic descent into madness.

Paulson’s brittle sensibility never entirely loses its humanity thanks to her layered performance. Deepening the characterization with genuine tenderness for the girls elevates the “is she crazy or is this really happening” trope.

Supporting turns from Miller, Annaleigh Ashford and Ebon Moss-Bachrach (The Bear) heighten tensions and call to mind the chill of an effective campfire tale. The filmmakers also capture a fear that permeates the God forsaken region with effective visual moments, often with Margaret and her needlework or a little boy and his makeshift mask. These moments are stark and eerie, but the film can’t seem to hold onto that feeling.

Paulson’s performance aches with a pain that is particular to a mother, and it’s this broken heartbeat that keeps Hold Your Breath compelling to its conclusion. Its horror is touched with a melancholy suited to the genre. The tension comes and goes, leaving you with less than promised, but the film has enough going for it to make it worth your time.