Tag Archives: Madd at the Movies

Shudder Premiere

Pregnant Pause

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Goody Goody

by Hope Madden

Filmmaker Raymond Creamer made the most of what he had for his feature debut, Goody Goody. What did he have? Four talented actors, two locations, and a knack for atmosphere.

Samantha Robinson (who was utter perfection in 2023’s The Love Witch) is Goody. Goody is pregnant, and she’s creating the beautiful childbirth her baby deserves. She knows that he’ll feel it. He’ll know. It has to be perfect.

Colleen Foy is Sarah, the grownup in the room. Sarah is Goody’s midwife, the one who warned Goody not to give birth in a remote cabin deep in the woods during winter. The only reason Sarah agrees to the job is the fear that Goody, her husband Jayson (Colby Hollman), and his sister Candace (Zoe Renee) will go through with the home birth on their own.

Pregnancy/childbirth horror is so common because it is custom made for the genre. A beast is attempting to burst out of a human body. That human is swollen to a ludicrous degree and is, therefore, wildly handicapped when it comes to things like running or lasting more than ten minutes without having to pee. It is easy to generate dread because, even in real life, it’s terrifying and vulnerable and bloody and it really hurts.

Because it is so common, it can also feel tired. But Creamer develops dread differently. Our point of view is Sarah, the competent one. Watching her grow anxious generates a different kind of dread. When the one who knows what she’s doing is worried, everybody needs to worry.

Foy is remarkable in this role. The way Sarah’s patience and care are soothing but authoritative is a comfort to Goody and family, but also the viewer. As her nerves begin to show wear and tear, we feel more realistically trapped in this nightmare with her.

Robinson’s also wonderful, treading a line between entitled and defenseless, reckless and idealistic. She’s almost hypnotic, almost seductive, and that level of ecstasy helps the film find its tone.

It’s a gorgeous movie. Creamer creates striking moments in a dreamily rustic environment, slowly and quietly introducing the supernatural before pivoting to a full-blown creature feature. The tonal shift wouldn’t work were it not for Robinson’s spellbinding work bumping against Foy’s urgent realism.

For some, it still may not work. The film’s waning moments are mesmerizing, beautiful, and unsatisfying. But for most of Creamer’s 110 minutes, he counted his blessings and made them count.

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Hair Raising Hallowen

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Shaun the Sheep: The Beast of Mossy Bottom

by Hope Madden

Fully two decades ago, the gang at Aardman animation produced Wallace & Gromit: The Curse of the Were-Rabbit, and it was perfect. A perfect family Halloween film, perfect entertainment, it won the 2006 Oscar for best animated feature. And it’s the reason I was so delighted at news of Aardman’s new Halloween feature, Shaun the Sheep: The Beast of Mossy Bottom.

The dear Shaun the Sheep franchise is sort of a Grade B W&G, but imperfect Aardman is better than none. It’s almost Halloween at Mossy Bottom Farm, and the herd has been raising pumpkins to carve for their celebration. Meanwhile, Farmer laments his receding hairline because he wants to ask the Vet to the Mossy Bottom Halloween Hoedown.

Then Shaun finds a “Home Made Science” book and soon the pumpkins won’t stop growing, Farmer has vanished, and some incredibly hairy beast is running amuck!

One of the great charms of this franchise is its love of silent movies and its precise display of the sight gags that go into great comic storytelling. There’s no dialog in a Shaun episode. Even the human characters only gesture, sigh, and grunt. But you’re never unsure about the hijinks and that meticulous instinct for cinema is impressive.

Characters carve out whole personalities without a word. Shaun is a problem solver as likely to cause the problem as to fix it. Farmer’s a bit of a bumbler, sort of a country bumpkin Wallace, complete with a dog of high competence and higher tolerance. And overbites have never been more charming.

Though entirely wholesome, the film packs some lovely references for old school horror. The tactile animation feeds that vintage vibe, but the tone is forever goofy. Exceptional editing keeps the pace frantic, but not so quick moving that you’ll miss any of the fun going on in the background.

Plus, at 80 minutes, Shaun the Sheep keeps the pace crisp and exits the party without overstaying its welcome. It’s a joyous way to celebrate the season with the young ones, and it will entertain everyone watching.

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Track Your Package?

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Resident Evil

by Hope Madden

A lot of people seem curious to know what Zach Cregger is doing following up Weapons—one of the most revered horror films of the last decade—with the seventh installment in a horror video game movie franchise. By the looks of Resident Evil, having a blast is what he’s doing.

Rather than offer another badass on a mission story, Cregger’s episode, co-written with Shay Hatten (John Wick 3 & 4, Army of the Dead), enters the newly overrun Raccoon City with a hapless courier (Austin Abrams) tapped to run an important medical package to the Raccoon City General Hospital. Things go from bad to worse to much worse to oh my god no pretty quickly in an impressive series of set pieces showcasing body horror, carnage, mutants, goo, and more.

Cregger’s direction is fresh and fun, building dread and releasing it with bits of humor. He gives us some nifty first person shooter POV, but not enough of it to become tedious. The camera lingers when you don’t expect it to, and turns away when you really hope it will.

Cregger never takes the film too seriously, which is usually the downfall of any video game adaptation. But he absolutely embraces the video game-ness of the film, digging into the grossest and most disturbing elements of the game while rooting the mayhem in a character you can care about.

Resident Evil is frequently funny without falling into camp. Abrams, who was such a standout comic force in Weapons, delivers an ideal doofus to root for. John Walter Hauser has a fun expository sharing cameo, and Zach Cherry is also pretty funny.

It’s also pretty gross, fast paced, tremendously violent, and harrowing in a fun way.

The unhinged horror of it all won’t surprise those of us who saw Cregger’s 2022 feature Barbarian. He’s a horror guy. He knows horror and he has fun with it while still leaving some scars. Resident Evil isn’t going to win anybody an Oscar, but it’s a good time.   

The Screening Room

Screening Room: Coyote vs. Acme, The Dog Stars, It Ends, Buddy & More

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Hope & George review this week’s new releases: Coyote vs. Acme, The Dog Stars, It Ends, Buddy, The Whisper Man, Colony, Boorman and the Devil, The Snare, and The Deb.

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I’m Not Looney, I’m Just Drawn That Way

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Coyote vs. ACME

by Hope Madden

Three years after Warner Brothers shelved Coyote vs. ACME for a tax write off, the delightful live action/animation hybrid finally hits big screens this week.

My interest hardly needed nudging after last year’s surprisingly entertaining The Day the Earth Blew Up: A Looney Tunes Movie. The fact that Coyote vs. ACME is about a soulless corporation willing to sacrifice cartoons because of its greed only increased its appeal. I love a good “art imitates life” story.

And this one did not disappoint. Will Forte is Kevin Avery of the injury law firm Avery, Jones, and Maltese—the first of about a billion nods to the brain trust that created the nearly century-old Looney Tunes. Kevin makes a living helping cartoon characters settle disputes with ACME for a couple hundred per case of backfiring rocket skates, anvil incidents, and whatnot.

Then Wile E. Coyote walks into Kevin’s office with a bottomless knapsack full of whatnot and suddenly Kevin’s facing a case that might be bigger than he even wants to deal with.

Kevin’s nemesis, ACME Corp’s slick talking attorney Buddy Crane (John Cena), offers a sweet settlement, but Mr. Coyote’s having none of it.

Coyote vs. ACME delivers a classic legal thriller punctuated with laughs and loving nods to animated history. Director Dave Green and a writing team led by Samy Burch (May December) follow in Who Framed Roger Rabbit’s footsteps in more ways than one. The filmmakers’ Looney Tunes love runs deep, and their knack for sight gags is as on-point as their instincts with a David vs. Goliath storyline.

It’s a smart script, and Forte, Cena, and P.J. Byrne (as Cena’s assistant) are a riot. Coyote vs. ACME never aims for the heights of Roger Rabbit (which was, let’s be honest, essentially a brilliantly disguised Chinatown for a new generation), but it doesn’t try to.

Green’s film celebrates generations of animated history with love and skill while it tells a story that’s relevance is as timeless as the Looney Tunes.

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Problem Child

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Teenage Sex and Death at Camp Miasma

by Hope Madden

Don’t make the mistake of assuming Jane Schoenbrun’s new feature Teenage Sex and Death at Camp Miasma is a slasher. Or a slasher spoof. Or a satire about slashers.

It’s a sexual awakening brought about by Gillian Anderson. Obviously.

Up-and-coming (pun intended) queer filmmaker Kris (a wondrously vulnerable Hannah Einbinder) has been tapped to reboot a problematic slasher IP. She hopes to convince the Final Girl of the first installment, Billy (Anderson the Great), to return to cinema and star in the film. Turns out, Billy’s a recluse who bought and now lives in the camp from the original film. She hosts Kris for several days of movies, junk food, pot, and deeply sensuous slasher nerdery.

This is—and I say this with as much delight as possible—the nerdiest horror movie ever. How nerdy? The very second you hear yourself saying “that’s a split diopter,” Schoenbrun stand-in Kris says it out loud. When Kris apologizes for asking too personal a question of Billy, fearing it could be a #metoo violation, Billy replies, “I auditioned for The Burning. You know who made that, right?”

Nerds! And the best kind of nerds. Horror movie nerds! Sleepaway Camp trivia meets Friday the 13th nostalgia in a gloriously queer, brazenly shameless, wonderfully horny new horror film.

Like their last two features, We’re All Going to the World’s Fair and I Saw the TV Glow, Teenage Sex and Death at Camp Miasma concerns itself with transformation, identity, and horror. But Schoenbrun’s latest drops the dreamy melancholy of the previous films in favor of something tender, beautiful, and accepting.

The gender iconography littered across every scene finds its zenith in Little Death (that name!), the transgender marauder with a double-blade spear and an air vent helmet. (Honestly, if you haven’t read Carol J. Clover’s Men, Women, and Chain Saws, you should. Schoenbrun certainly has.)

TSADACM, like Schoenbrun’s last two films, is a gorgeous watercolor fever dream. It’s funny, incredibly bloody, and unabashedly in love with the aggressively sexual and sexually ambiguous slasher, no matter how problematic. Perhaps because it’s problematic.

The film is not just a wonderful walk through another person’s psyche, although it is that. It’s also a fascinating, deeply satisfying kick of a horror movie. You should go.  

Outtakes

Way Down in the Hole

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Bury the Devil

by Hope Madden

Things don’t often go well for live-in nurses in horror movies. Whether the caregiver is a loved one (Undertone, Relic, The Taking of Deborah Logan) or a professional (I Am the Pretty Thing That Lives in the House, The Dark and the Wicked), the patient always seems to bring with them an additional presence.

So, I guess Julia (Emmanuelle Lussier Martinez) only has herself to blame. If she’d watched more horror, she might have known that her latest gig in a gorgeous lakeside home with Evelyn (Dawn Ford) would take more from her than her time and compassion.

Writer/director Adam O’Brien’s Bury the Devil creates a great, spooky atmosphere. Long takes and a prowling camera give the film a haunted quality, and O’Brien makes the most of his limited budget with a small but talented cast and this stunning location.

Ford takes advantages of the opportunities afforded her, gliding from wistful old woman to confused dementia sufferer to something sinister and back with ease. She commands the screen as patients in these films rarely do.

Likewise, Martinez carves out a believable character—not the martyr or conniver, just a working nurse on her first night in a new home.

The writing is occasionally pushy, trying too hard to wedge information into conversations without forced exposition. We exist only in the present tense. There are no flashbacks or days marked on the screen to help us along. Instead, O’Brien drops us into Julia’s first night and possibly Dawn’s last. It’s a structure that keeps the film moving and surprising, but it doesn’t offer a lot of opportunity to expand the story.

The gaps in the mythology weaken the climax. What you don’t know and couldn’t possibly understand without some guidance leaves you guessing at too much. That guesswork keeps the finale from feeling like a resolution, like pieces finally fit into a puzzle. It’s not enough to ruin the movie, but it’s enough to keep it from leaving a mark.