Tag Archives: Madd at the Movies

Fright Club: Telephone Horror

We welcome our Fave Five From Fans podcast buddy Jamie Ray back to the Club to talk about horror movies that make the best use of phones. This was Jamie’s topic suggestion and he brings five titles of his own, so please be sure to listen to the full podcast!

In the meantime, here are our five favorites.

5. The Black Phone (2021)

Ethan Hawke plays the Grabber in Scott Derrikson’s take on the Joe Hill short story. With his top hat, black balloons and big black van, Grabber’s managed to lure and snatch a number of young boys from a small Colorado town. Finney (Mason Thames) is his latest victim, and for most of the film, Finney waits for his punishment down a locked cement basement with a cot and an unplugged black rotary dial phone.

Time period detail sets a spooky mood and Derrickson has fun with soundtrack choices. But the film’s success—its creepy, affecting success—is Hawke. The actor weaves in and out of different postures, tones of voice, movements. He’s about eight different kinds of creepy, every one of them aided immeasurably by its variation on that mask.

Derrickson hasn’t reinvented the genre. But, with solid source material and one inspired performance, he’s crafted a gem of a horror movie.

4. Black Christmas (1974)

Sure, it’s another case of mysterious phone calls leading to grisly murders; sure it’s another one-by-one pick off of sorority stereotypes; sure, there’s a damaged child backstory; naturally John Saxon co-stars. Wait, what was different? Oh yeah, it did it first.

Released in 1974, the film predates most slashers by at least a half dozen years. It created the architecture. More importantly, the phone calls are actually quite unsettling. Director Bob Clark was onto something with the phone calls, as evidenced by the number of films that ripped off this original convention.

3. When a Stranger Calls (1979)

With a very simple premise, director/co-writer Fred Walton delivered genuine shocks and dread.

Carol Kane is Jill, garden variety high school babysitter type. The kids are already in bed, Jill just needs to be there in the house until Dr. and Mrs. Mandrakis get back. She does homework, talks on the phone, watches TV. What she does not do—however often the rando phone caller asks—is check the children.

The first and third acts are the killers, while Act 2 is a lot of police procedural thriller, but there’s a reason people still bristle when they hear, “Have you checked the children?”

2. Scream (1996)

Wes Craven’s return to horror—aided immeasurably by a sly and daring script from Kevin Williamson—revived the genre. And you knew it would be an incredible movie from the opening moments.

Drew Barrymore—easily the most recognizable name in the cast (also a producer)—answers the phone. She’s home alone, making popcorn, readying to watch a horror film. She gets roped into a flirty anonymous game of “what’s your favorite scary movie?”

The voice (Roger Jackson) became iconic, as did his line.

1.The Ring (2002)

“Seven days…”

Gore Verbinski’s take on Chisui Takigawa’s 1995 film embraces the already-retro tech—VHS tapes and landlines—to ground a supernatural tale of curses, horses and bad parenting.

Nowadays when you see “PG13” attached to horror, you may roll your eyes. But The Ring brings plenty of terror and tension, and it all starts when that phone rings.

Screening Room: Ghostbusters: Frozen Empire, Road House, Immaculate, Late Night with the Devil & More

Bustin’ Makes Me Feel Okay I Guess

Ghostbusters: Frozen Empire

by Hope Madden and George Wolf

Three years ago, Ghostbusters: Afterlife conjured a mostly winning mix of nostalgia and new ideas—until a sledgehammer finale of fan service nearly derailed it all.

Frozen Empire thankfully dials it back on the fandom, but overcompensates with a slow building and convoluted narrative that just takes too long to be fun.

After a prologue set in 1904, we catch up with the new GB’s—and the originals—dealing with the aftermath of unlocking an ancient artifact that holds a nasty surprise inside.

The cash-hungry Nadeem (Kumail Nanjiani) sold said artifact to Ray Stantz (Dan Aykroyd) and didn’t look back, but he also might be essential to defeating the demon that finds its way out of it.

Afterlife director Jason Reitman is again writing with Gil Kenan, but this time lets Kenan (Monster House, City of Ember) take the helm. We still get some laughs, but also a script that takes on too much.

Traditional characters are often forced into a storyline that seems most assured when young Phoebe Spengler (Mckenna Grace) is sharing adolescent angst with a teenage ghost named Melody (Emily Alyn Lind).

Paul Rudd delights, as always, and his chemistry with Grace continues to be dear. Nanjiani is a welcome addition and Carrie Coon continues to shine. But while it is nice to see some of the older faces (Aykroyd, Bill Murray, Ernie Hudson, Annie Potts), the film squeezes in too many characters and too much exposition for much of anything to stick. (Plus a wasted 13 Ghosts opportunity!)

The second hour finally brings the fun and much of the funny. If Kenan could have trimmed 20 minutes from the film—and maybe three characters—Ghostbusters: Frozen Empire might have been a high energy bit of family fun. Pacing and bloat keep it from ever reaching the heights of its predecessors, and viewers looking for the tear-jerking of Afterlife will have to look elsewhere. But it’s got some charm, some laughs and those funny little marshmallow men.

Our Lady of Fury

Immaculate

by Hope Madden

Does Immaculate benefit from low expectations? Maybe, but I’ll tell you what, I did not hate this movie.

First of all, it looks great—and not just because it stars Sydney Sweeney. Sweeney plays Sister Cecilia, a Michigander transplanted to rural Italy in time to take her vows to become a nun. Her Italian is not very strong, and she sometimes feels like she’s being left out of conversations intentionally, but she takes her vows anyway: poverty, chastity, obedience.

For a lot of people, those first two seem like the tough ones. Nope. It’s the last one you have to avoid. (Note for the uninitiated, priests do not have to take a vow of obedience. And I don’t just mean in this movie.)

Anyway, miracle of miracles, Sister Cecilia finds herself pregnant.

Immaculate is not the first film to tread such unholy ground. Agnes of God, The Innocents, Deliver Us­—it’s actually a pretty long list. And sexy nuns, well that list is even longer and more sordid. Though Michael Mohan’s film certainly falls into the sexy nun trap (because it is, in fact, possible to hire women between the ages of 19 and 45 who are just ordinary looking), it’s rather surprising all he gets right.

The science gets dumb, but the self-righteous torture, that is spot on.

Working from a script by Andrew Lobel, Mohan mines the desperate helplessness of Rosemary’s Baby. And Sweeney does a fine job of swimming the murky waters of faith, innocence, and the wisdom born of innocence lost.

What’s most stunning is how well two male filmmakers channel female rage. And I don’t just mean the rage of having to sit through beautiful, nubile virgins bathing together in soaking wet white nighties. That too, but also the good kind of female rage.

Immaculate digs into the way organized religion constrains, punishes, silences, bullies, vilifies and oppresses women and then unleashes glorious fury. Fearless, cathartic, bloody, beautifully sacrilegious fury.

Singing in the Rain

You’ll Never Find Me

by Hope Madden

A somber experiment in atmospheric horror, Josiah Allen and Indianna Bell’s feature You’ll Never Find Me waits out a storm with a couple of curious characters.

Patrick (Brendan Rock) sits quietly if unhappily in the kitchen of his trailer. It’s late—after 2 in the morning—and he seems a tad morose. When a persistent knock on his door punctures the noise of the storm, he ignores it as long as he can.

Eventually, he admits a stranger (Jordan Cowan), barefoot, drenched and shivering. She was caught in the storm and just needs a ride to town.

At this time of night?

What’s really going on here?

The film feels lost in a dream—the lighting, the silences, the pair’s lonesome and broken expressions. The co-directors linger on the actors’ faces, allowing the paranoia to shift so you’re never fully sure of either character.

Everybody in You’ll Never Find Me moves slowly. Everything moves slowly. You don’t know who to trust because neither of these two seems to trust the other, and you can’t judge either of them for it. Surely, they’re not both up to something nefarious.

Maxx Corkindale’s sometimes roving camera reveals something creepy in the trailer’s tidy, tightly enclosed ordinariness. The sound design is hushed and foreboding, blending with Darren Lim’s score to work the nerves. The result allows the film to suggest something supernatural, although all other signs point to very human crimes.

A slow boil like this requires committed, compelling performances and both Cowan and Rock deliver. Eventually the gender politics on display unnerve, and what’s what the film is more than truly scary. It’s unnerving.

The third act doesn’t entirely deliver on the promise made earlier in the film, but Bell and Allen have crafted an unsettling and spooky feast for the senses.

Juiced Up and Sloppy

Love Lies Bleeding

by Hope Madden

Awash in the stink and the glory of new passion, Rose Glass’s Love Lies Bleeding treads some familiar roadways but leaves an impression solely its own.

Lou (Kristen Stewart) and her mullet work a shitty job in a low rent gym in a nowhere town, looking with disdain toward essentially everyone. Until Jackie (Katy O’Brian) blows into town from wherever and Lou can’t take her eyes off her.

But every stranger has a backstory, and that’s the rub of romance movies, isn’t it? Everybody’s fresh and clean. Not Lou and not Jackie, but for now, it’s all good. Jackie wants to go to Vegas and compete in body building finals. Lou wants Jackie.

Glass blends and smears cinematic gender identifiers, particularly those of noir and thriller, concocting an intoxicating new image of sexual awakening and empowerment. She routinely upends images of power and masculinity, subverting expectations and associations and fetishizing the human body anew.

For Lou and Jackie, love is a wild and dangerous drug, heady and unpredictable. The same sentence describes Glass’s film. She likes to make you uncomfortable, and as soon as you acclimate to one type of confrontation, she’s on to the next. But her style has energy to burn, and her leads are just as explosive.

The supporting cast—Jena Malone (obviously destined to play Stewart’s sister at some point), Dave Franco (with an even more impressive mullet), and the great Ed Harris—command attention with dimensional, damaged and damaging performances.

Glass is not out to break new ground, plot wise. The story is rock solid but delivers essentially a smartly crafted hillbilly noir thriller—a la Red Rock West, Blood Simple, Killer Joe— but with few truly surprising plot turns. The execution, however, is something you’ve never witnessed.

Anyone who’s seen Glass’s magnificent 2021 horror Saint Maud may be better prepared for the third act than newcomers to the filmmaker’s vision, but it’s a wild and unexpected turn regardless.  It’s quite something—bold, original, and wryly funny in the most unexpected moments. There’s heartbreak and horror, sex and revenge, a little magic and a lot of steroids. Glass’s juice has the goods.

A Modern Lifestyle Brand

Club Zero

by Hope Madden

Cynical, satirical, uncomfortable and likely to bristle viewers no matter where they fall on the political spectrum, Jessica Hausner’s latest, Club Zero, takes aim at, well, a lot of things.

A wickedly brilliant Mia Wasikowska is Ms. Novak, an expensive boarding school’s newest faculty member. Chosen by the parents’ board, Ms. Novak has been brought on to teach conscious eating. Being single and childless, she’s also available for those hard-to-fill weekend duties.

The film’s aesthetic—essentially, every color of vomit—draws attention immediately while Markus Binder’s audacious score delivers echoes of commodified Eastern music. The main target of Hausner’s film, co-written with longtime collaborator Géraldine Bajard, is the privileged, goopy wellness culture. It’s an easy target, but it’s not the only one the filmmaker hits.

Faith in anything other than science—cliquish privilege, capitalism, consumerism and nearly every manner of parenting—is sent up with sometimes unpleasant but never dull cynicism.

Hausner’s framing is gorgeous, and it keeps views at arm’s length from the action. Students are convinced, coddled, and cajoled by Ms. Novak into eating less and less, and into distancing themselves from anyone who wouldn’t understand the righteousness of their calling. In Club Zero, luxury and loneliness meet a culture of competition to create an environment ripe for radicalization.  

The absurdity of the tone keeps this story‑— vulnerable young people succumbing to the attention of a personality that makes them feel special—from feeling tragic. It should, really. But Hausner doesn’t pity the children of privilege much more than their parents.

And while wellness culture is an easy mark, the final image—a clear callback to Da Vinci’s The Last Supper—reinforces the idea that blind, scienceless faith causes more harm than good.

Fright Club: Parasites in Horror Movies

Fear of infection, of contamination, of losing your personhood, of physical violation—all of it coalesces in often gooey fashion in the parasite movie. Metaphors abound and slugs take center stage as some of the greatest directors of the genre tell the tale of hosts and unwanted guests. Here are our favorites.

Shivers (1975)

In an upscale Montreal high rise, an epidemic is breaking out. A scientist has created an aphrodisiac in the form of a big, nasty slug. That slug, though, spreads wantonness throughout the high rise and threatens to overrun the city with its lusty ways.

Shivers takes a zombie concept and uses it to pervert expectations. (See what we did there?) Cronenberg’s his first feature length horror predicts so many of the films to come. The film obsesses over human sexuality, social mores, the physical form, physical violation and infestation, medical science, conspiracy, and free will.

Splinter (2008)

Road kill, a carjacking, an abandoned gas station, some quills – it doesn’t take much for first time feature filmmaker and longtime visual effects master Toby Wilkins to get under your skin. One cute couple just kind of wants to camp in Oklahoma’s ancient forest (which can never be a good idea, really). Too bad a couple of ne’er-do-wells needs their car. Then a flat (what was that – a porcupine? No!!) sends them to that creepy gas station, and all hell breaks loose.

Contamination gymnastics call to mind the great John Carpenter flick The Thing, but Splinter is its own animal. Characters have depth and arcs, the danger is palpable, the kills pretty amazing, and the overall aesthetic of that old highway gives everything a desperately lonesome quality where you believe anything could happen and no rescue is in sight.

Slither (2006)

Writer/director James Gunn took the best parts of B-movie Night of the Creeps and Cronenberg’s They Came from Within, mashing the pieces into the exquisitely funny, gross and terrifying Slither.

Cutie pie Starla (Elizabeth Banks) is having some marital problems. Her husband Grant (the great Michael Rooker) is at the epicenter of an alien invasion. Smalltown sheriff Bill Pardy (every nerd girl’s imaginary boyfriend Nathan Fillion) tries to set things straight as a giant mucous ball, a balloonlike womb-woman, a squid monster, projectile vomit, zombies, and loads and loads of slugs keep the action really hopping.

Consistently funny, cleverly written, well-paced, tense and scary and gross—Slither has it all. Watch it. Do it!

The Thing (1982)

John Carpenter’s remake of the 1951 SciFi flick The Thing from Another World is both reverent and barrier-breaking, limiting the original’s Cold War paranoia, and concocting a thoroughly spectacular tale of icy isolation, contamination, and mutation.

A beard-tastic cast portrays a team of scientists on expedition in the Arctic who take in a dog. The dog is not a dog, though. Not really. And soon, in an isolated wasteland with barely enough interior room to hold all the facial hair, folks are getting jumpy because there’s no knowing who’s not really himself anymore.

This is an amped up body snatcher movie benefitting from some of Carpenter’s most cinema-fluent and crafty direction: wide shots when we need to see the vastness of the unruly wilds; tight shots to remind us of the close quarters with parasitic death inside.

Alien (1979)

After a vagina-hand-sucker-monster attaches itself to your face, it gestates inside you, then tears through your innards. Then it grows exponentially, hides a second set of teeth, and bleeds acid. How much cooler could this possibly be?

Much ado has been made, rightfully so, of the John Hurt Chest Explosion (we loved their early work, before they went commercial). But Ridley Scott’s lingering camera leaves unsettling impressions in far simpler ways, starting with the shot of all those eggs.

Screening Room: Kung Fu Panda 4, Imaginary, Ricky Stanicky, Damsel & More

Fourth Helping of Dumplings

Kung Fu Panda 4

by Hope Madden

Animated sequels often work out. Every time you think “Do we really need another Toy Story?” you get one more cartoon masterpiece. Each How to Train Your Dragon movie is a stunner. And Puss in Boots: The Last Wish was not only better than any previous Puss in Boots film, it was better than any Shrek film.

So why not a fourth Kung Fu Panda? Literally no one expected the 2008 original to be a charming, lovely, thoroughly entertaining Oscar nominee. A couple more episodes in and maybe directors Mike Mitchell and Stephanie Stine have the power to entirely reimagine this franchise, find a universal truth and existential meaning that allows this installment to transcend its late-stage sequel position, a la Toy Story 3. Or Toy Story 4.

No, but it’s cute.

Po (Jack Black, lovable even if it’s only his voice) has been named the spiritual leader of the Valley of Peace, which means he must find his successor as Dragon Warrior. But he doesn’t want to. He finally found something he’s good at—kicking butt—and he’s kind of famous for it. And maybe he just fears change.

But all this successor stuff will have to wait. The Chameleon (Viola F. Davis) has a nefarious plan that needs thwarting and Po’s off to handle the situation with the help of this little thieving fox (Awkwafina, who may be voicing every animated film to come out, but she’s great at it).

Master Shifu (Dustin Hoffman) is disappointed. Naturally.

Hoffman is one of only a handful of returning voice talent—Angelina Jolie, Seth Rogan, Jackie Chan, Lucy Liu and David Cross are noticeably absent. But Ian McShane returns, and that’s a voice we can all listen to all day long, villainous or not. Plus, there’s more room for new characters.

Davis is characteristically wonderful as the evildoer, but it’s really the budding relationship between frenemies Po and Zhen (Awkwafina) that compels interest. Not every actor can carry off animation, but both Black and Awkwafina shine.

The animation is good looking enough. It’s not gorgeous, but it’s nice. The action is fun, the characters are funny enough, and the lessons are solid. And there are these three bloodthirsty little bunnies, and I am a fan.

Kung Fu Panda 4 breaks no new ground, transcends no limitations, but it entertains throughout and delivers a pleasant bit of family-friendly fun. Plus reimagined Ozzy and Britney are a delight.