Director Ariel Vroman has crafted an interesting character study within the bones of an action movie with Criminal.
When CIA agent Bill Pope (Ryan Reynolds) is killed in the line of duty, his boss, Quaker Wells (Gary Oldman), desperate to obtain the information Pope was bringing to him, enlists the help of Dr. Franks (Tommy Lee Jones) to perform a radical memory transfer from Pope to Jericho Stewart (Kevin Costner). Dr. Franks is unsure if the procedure will work, as he’s only performed is successfully on small mammals, but Wells pushes him to perform the surgery.
Predictably, the operation is successful. However, Jericho Wells is unpredictable. He is a man without a conscience, and his predilection for destruction jeopardizes Wells’s objective.
Costner is marvelous as Jericho, first playing the character with cold indifference, but shaping him to the memories and feelings of Pope as they overwhelm him. Attempting to use Pope’s knowledge for his own gain, he finds himself drawn to Pope’s life, particularly Pope’s wife and daughter.
As the deceased’s wife, Jill Pope, Gal Gadot (the new Wonder Woman) gives a compelling performance as a woman who is suddenly confronted with a very dangerous man who happens to know things about her life that only her husband would know. The characters’ initial interaction is tense, and it’s unclear how Jericho will act toward Jill and her daughter.
Unfortunately, the situation plays out the way one would expect, as Jericho is influenced more and more by Pope’s thoughts and feelings. What could provide for an unexpected, and possibly deadly, confrontation is instead relegated to a predictable attack of conscience before anything truly sinister occurs.
Though Costner ably carries the weight of the film, many of the supporting characters feel flat, with little to do other than attempt to steer Jericho in the direction they want. Gary Oldman is especially mundane in his role as a CIA director who seems inept and impulsive.
Only Gadot, and Michael Pitt (The Dreamers, Funny Games) as Jan Stroop, imbue their characters with emotions and wants that have nothing to do with Jericho. Pitt is especially effective, radiating various emotions and providing a nice contrast to Jericho.
Despite the weakness of some of the characters, the film is an intriguing study of Jericho. There are a number of tense, and occasionally funny, moments as we watch him navigate his new memories and feelings.
On the whole, Criminal is an enjoyable, if predictable, film.
This is especially true when said party is thrown by your ex and her new man in the house that used to be yours. So, why go?
Curiosity – which is what will or will not keep you invested in director Karyn Kusama’s new film The Invitation.
Will (Logan Marshall-Green) and his new girlfriend Kira (Emayatzy Corinealdi) tough it out. They drive out to the LA hills to join Will’s ex Eden (Tammy Blanchard) and all the friends Will has forgotten about since his son accidentally died in this very house a couple years back.
The party marks Eden’s return to the fold and an introduction to the new man in her life, David (Michiel Huisman), another grief survivor who, like Eden, owes his very sanity to the life-changing vision of Dr. Joseph.
Oh, God. Have they unwittingly submitted themselves to the one thing worse than a time-share opportunity gathering – a religious conversion attempt?
Kusama’s slow build mines societal tensions well. Besides the obvious ex-lover friction and the fear of cult propaganda, many in this once tight circle of friends have avoided the grief-stricken parents since the accident. It’s all very uncomfortable, though the film slowly turns the discomfort toward paranoia as Will begins to wonder where missing buddy Choi (Karl Yune) may be, why Eden has a bottle of barbiturates in her bedroom, and why David keeps all the partygoers locked inside.
Is something amiss, or is Will just dealing with those damaging issues of grief that Eden and David were able to overcome thanks to Dr. Joseph?
As The Invitation slowly evolves from tense drama to thriller to horror, Kusama is always throwing uncomfortable moments and unsettling clues at you. Were it not for the often tediously stilted dialog penned by Phil Hay and Matt Manfredi – whose track record includes the Ride Along series, if that tells you anything – The Invitation would have a consistently nightmarish, hypnotic quality that keeps you uncomfortably captive.
You know, just like that last dinner party you went to.
Of all filmmakers in the world, few – if any – can do slice-of-life as well as Richard Linklater. Never weighed down by plot structure or the rigid expectations of modern cinema, Linklater’s the master of fluid, easygoing, day-in-the-life filmmaking. His latest exercise in the craft, Everybody Wants Some, is a charmer.
You’re invited to a 3-day bender in the late summer of 1980 – the long weekend before the first day of classes – and Linklater’s meandering camera makes you feel like you’re just wandering through the party.
Everybody Wants Some is, without question, too forgiving. A South Texas university baseball team settles into the new year by scoping out the female action on and off campus. They’re adaptive – disco one night, urban cowboys the next, punk rockers on a random Sunday. Linklater not only nails 1980, but pinpoints the almost invisible moments of import in a person’s life.
This is a consequence-free zone that smells a bit of nostalgia and self-congratulations. And yet, thanks to a slew of utterly charming performances, the film still works exceptionally well.
Linklater has assembled an outstanding ensemble – not a false note in the lot, from the quiet everyman Jake (Blake Jenner) to the hypercompetitive McReynolds (Tyler Hoechlin) to the philosophical ladies’ man Finnegan (Glen Powell) to the ranting wacko Jay (Juston Street) – and basically the entire team. The first thing Linklater does is establish each ballplayer’s type, just to quietly destroy your preconceived notions of character.
Billed as the “spiritual sequel” to 1993’s coming of age classic Dazed and Confused, Everybody Wants Some is even more laid back, decidedly more masculine, and quite a bit more existential. Linklater’s more existential films tend toward the bittersweet – some more bitter, this one more sweet.
Like Dazed, the new film litters its fluid storyline with hijinks and casually perceptive dialog.
“It’s all so damn tribal.”
“Embrace your inner strange.”
It’s a film about competition and identity, the battle between self-discovery and authenticity, but with Linklater’s light, affectionate touch, nothing ever feels heavy. The writing is as good as anything Linklater has produced, positively glowing with “unsolicited wisdom and fuckwithery.” And all of it leads to an absolutely perfect ending.
Horror films have the power to freak you out, to terrify you, to disturb and unsettle you. And often enough, along with inspiring some combination of the aforementioned emotions, certain horror films just beg the question WTF?! Like, almost anything Takashi Miike has ever directed. Or Antichrist – I’m sorry, did that fox just speak? Whether the bizarre puppetry of Hausu or the skull sex of Headless, the orifice’s point of view camera angles in Enter the Void or the queasying sibling relationship in Pin, horror movies can hit that unsettling nerve. So let’s just embrace it today, shall we? Today we count down the five (or six!) best in WTF?! horror.
6. The Woman (2011)
There’s something not quite right about Chris Cleese (an unsettlingly cherubic Sean Bridgers), and his family’s uber-wholesomeness is clearly suspect. This becomes evident once Chris hunts down a feral woman (an awesome Pollyanna McIntosh), chains her, and invites the family to help him “civilize” her.
The film rethinks family – well, patriarchy, anyway. Notorious horror novelist and co-scriptor Jack Ketchum may say things you don’t want to hear, but he says them well. And director Lucky McKee – in his most surefooted film to date – has no qualms about showing you things you don’t want to see. Like most of Ketchum’s work, The Woman is lurid and more than a bit disturbing. Indeed, the advanced screener I watched came in a vomit bag.
Aside from an epically awful performance by Carlee Baker as the nosey teacher, the performances are more than just good for the genre, they’re disturbingly solid. McIntosh never veers from being intimidating, terrifying even when she’s chained. Bridgers has a weird way of taking a Will Ferrell character and imbibing him with the darkest hidden nature. Even young Zach Rand, as the sadist-in-training teen Brian, nails the role perfectly.
Nothing happens in this film by accident – not even the innocent seeming baking of cookies – nor does it ever happen solely to titillate. It’s a dark and disturbing adventure that finds something unsavory in our primal nature and even worse in our quest to civilize. Don’t even ask about what it finds in the dog pen.
5. Bad Boy Bubby (1993)
The hell?! Why? What?! Good God.
Nicholas Hope is astonishing as the titular Bubby, a 30-year-old manchild who’s never, ever left the room he keeps with his mum.
Remember the Oscar-winning indie film Room? Remember how tragedy is somehow skirted because of the courageous love of a mother for her son? Well, this was not Bubby’s mum. Bad things are happening in that room, and once Bubby is finally free to explore the world, his adventure is equal parts deranged and soul-crushing. Hope is so frustratingly empathetic in the lead that no matter what he does, you root for him. You root for friends who will love him, for someone who will care for him, but it’s the resigned cheerfulness with which he faces any kind of abuse that really just kills you.
This taboo-shattering film is so wrong in so many ways, and yet it’s also lovely, optimistic, sweet, and funny. And just so, so fucked up.
4. Baskin (2015)
Welcome to hell! Turkish filmmaker Can Evrenol invites you to follow a 5-man police squad into the netherworld, where eye patches are all the rage, pregnancy lasts well under the traditional 40 weeks, and you don’t want to displease Daddy.
The serpentine sequencing of events evokes a dream logic that gives the film an inescapable atmosphere of dread, creepily underscored by its urgent synth score. Evrenol’s imagery is morbidly amazing. Much of it only glimpsed, most of it left unarticulated, but all of it becomes that much more disturbing for its lack of clarity.
The further along the squad gets, the more often you’ll look in horror at something off in a corner, that sneaking WTF? query developing along with your upset stomach.
The central figures in this nightmare are one eye-patch wearing helper who enjoys tossing his or her hair over one shoulder, and the breathtaking father figure played by Mehmet Cerrahoglu. There is no one quite like him.
Cerrahoglu’s remarkable presence authenticates the hellscape. Evrenol’s imaginative set design and wise lighting choices envelope Cerrahoglu, his writhing followers, and his victims in a bloody horror like little else in cinema.
3. Calvaire (The Ordeal) (2004)
A paranoid fantasy about the link between progress and emasculation, The Ordeal sees a timid singer stuck in the wilds of Belgium after his van breaks down.
Writer/director Fabrice Du Welz’s script scares up the darkest imaginable humor. If David Lynch had directed Deliverance in French, the concoction might have resembled The Ordeal. As sweet, shy singer Marc (a pitch perfect Laurent Lucas) awaits aid, he begins to recognize the hell he’s stumbled into. Unfortunately for Marc, salvation’s even worse.
The whole film boasts an uneasy, “What next?” quality. It also provides a European image of a terror that’s plagued American filmmakers for generations: the more we embrace progress, the further we get from that primal hunter/gatherer who knew how to survive.
Du Welz animates more ably than most our collective revulsion over the idea that we’ve evolved into something incapable of unaided survival; the weaker species, so to speak. Certainly John Boorman’s Deliverance (the Uncle Daddy of all backwoods survival pics) understood the fear of emasculation that fuels this particular dread, but Du Welz picks that scab more effectively than any filmmaker since.
His film is a profoundly uncomfortable, deeply disturbing, unsettlingly humorous freakshow that must be seen to be believed.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Hn3oba5HmH8
2. Possession (1981)
Speaking of sex and monsters – wait, were we? – have you seen Possession? WTF is going on there?
Andrzej Zulawski – writer/director/Czech – created this wild ride with doppelgangers, private investigators, ominous government agencies, and curious sexual appetites. It’s more precisely fantasy than horror, but it feels like David Cronenberg meets David Lynch, which is a pairing we can get behind.
Sam Neill plays Mark. Mark has just left his job – a mysterious position with some kind of lab. He’s being offered a lot of money to stay, but he needs to go home. We don’t know why.
Back at home, he greets his genuinely adorable son Bob (Michael Hogben). Bob – the names is so normal, and yet feels so unusual for a small child. Mark’s wife Anna (Isabelle Adjani) is also at home with Bob. There’s nothing normal about Anna.
Mark and Anna’s relationship boasts an intentional artificiality – a queasying sexuality – that makes it hard to root for either of them as their marriage deteriorates. Anna, it seems, is in love with someone else. Is it the sexually open – really, really open – Heinrich? Is it a bloody, mollusk-like monster? Is Mark boning Anna’s mean friend with a cast on her leg? Does Bob’s kindergarten teacher bear an unreasonable resemblance to Anna? Is anyone caring properly for Bob?
These questions and more go basically unanswered in a deviant, summary-defying, fantastical bit of filmmaking that mocks the idiocy, even insanity of obsession and boasts a handful of weirdly excellent performances. And sex with a bloody mollusk monster.
1. Gozu (2003)
If you are looking for genuine lunacy in film, your search should begin and quite possibly end with filmmaker Takashi Miike. His shit is nuts. Truth be told, there are scads of Miike films that could have populated this list because even his tamest, most logical, no-puppetry films are wild rides. So when he starts coloring way outside the lines, expect to be surprised.
This one starts off as a yakuza film – one guy on a mob-style assignment – then descends into absolute madness.
Minami (Yuta Sone) has been ordered to assassinate his feeble-minded yakuza boss Ozaki (Sho Aikawa), but he’s conflicted. Then he loses him and wanders, in search, into – you might say it was the Twilight Zone, except this place is considerably weirder. There’s a minotaur. An electrified anal soup ladle death scene. Some seriously, seriously weird shit.
Like a walk through somebody’s subconscious, the film is awash in repressed sexual desires of the very most insane and unspeakable. There’s a comical element that’s almost equally unsettling. Gozu is not as violent as many Miike films – it’s violent, don’t be mistaken, but the horror here is more in unseemly behavior and wildly inappropriate imagery. It’s just stuff you can’t unsee.
The Boss is a comedic story of one woman’s fall from the top and her struggle to regain her position in the world.
Melissa McCarthy is Michelle Darnell, a high powered executive who writes a brand of self-help books. Her fall comes at the hands of former lover and business rival, Ronald (Peter Dinklage).
Kristen Bell is Michelle’s long suffering assistant, Claire, who is forced to find a new employer when Michelle is incarcerated for insider trading. The early setup foretells the redemption of Michelle, though the ways in which it happens are unpredictable and provide the bulk of the movie’s many jokes.
As a vehicle for Melissa McCarthy, The Boss has a number of laughs. Sharp wit, foul language, and bodily humor combine to offer an appealing repertoire of McCarthy’s talents. However, the movie itself falls flat. The supporting cast is underutilized. Kristen Bell, herself a witty and capable actress, is lackluster against McCarthy. The chemistry is non-existent, and the two characters never seem to foster a believable relationship.
The screenplay doesn’t know what to do with anyone other than McCarthy. Though a decent portion of the film revolves around Bell’s character, her scenes independent of McCarthy are mildly tedious.
Peter Dinklage, another actor with an incredible range of talent, has a woefully small amount of screen time, and though he plays Michelle’s former lover who both hates and still wants her, he has no sexual chemistry or tension with McCarthy. The interaction between the characters frequently feels forced.
The only actor who plays well of off McCarthy’s humor is Cedric Yarbrough, the “yes man” Tito, who appears briefly in the beginning of the film, but sadly, doesn’t return after Michelle’s release from prison.
On the whole, the film is disjointed. What could be a cohesive story of Michelle’s fall and attempted rise back to the top is unfortunately punctuated with scenes that don’t really fit the narrative: a comic book style slow motion fight scene between girls from two warring Girl Scout-like troops, a scene where Michelle has a bad reaction to puffer fish, and others.
Despite the movie’s flaws, it’s not without appeal. Ella Anderson who plays Claire’s daughter, Rachel, is a delightful foil to Michelle’s brash and sarcastic nature. Her emotions based on Michelle’s actions come across as genuine. Her joys and pains are felt by the audience. McCarthy’s humor and flair carries the film in places where in another’s hands it might suffer.
It’s a shame so many of the other characters are without appeal, as The Boss could have been a much stronger comedy.
Get to know Jeff Nichols. The Arkansas native is batting 1000, writing and directing among the most beautiful and compelling American films being made. His latest, Midnight Special, is no different. But then again, it is very, very different.
You should know as little as possible going into this film because Nichols is the master of slow reveal, pulling you into a situation and exploiting your preconceived notions until you are wonderfully bewildered by the path the story takes.
Suffice it to say, Nichols mainstay Michael Shannon, as well as Joel Edgerton, are armed men in a seedy motel. They have a child in tow (Jaeden Lieberher – wonderful). Local news casts a dark image of the trio, but there’s also a Waco-esque religious community looking for the boy, not to mention the FBI. So, what the hell is going on?
Nichols knows, and he invites your curiosity as he upends expectations. The film toys with the clash between logic and the supernatural, not unlike the themes of Nichols’s masterpiece Take Shelter (also starring a magnificent Shannon). While moments of Midnight Special will feel more reminiscent of memorable films in the SciFi vein, what this filmmaker does with his subject is beautifully novel.
The film, like all of Nichols’s work, is deeply rooted in traditions and atmosphere specific to the American South, and the filmmaker boasts a deep and easy skill as a storyteller. He’s also truly gifted with casting.
Lieberher, who showed amazing natural talent in 2014’s St. Vincent, again offers a beautifully restrained central figure. Edgerton and Kirsten Dunst are likewise wonderful, both turning in nuanced performances that reflect Nichols’s uncanny way of dealing with the extraordinary in the most naturalistic way.
But Michael Shannon, a remarkable talent no matter what film he graces, anchors the film with a heartbreaking, award-worthy performance.
Midnight Special is just another gem of a film that allows Nichols and his extraordinary cast to find exceptional moments in both the outlandish and the terribly mundane, and that’s probably the skill that sets this filmmaker above nearly anyone else working today. He sees beyond expectations and asks you to do it, too.
“Hell is not a place you see. You carry Hell with you at all times.”
Cheery stuff, that! If you’ve ever wondered what hell might look like, first time feature director Can Evrenol has some ideas to share. They are vivid. You’ll swear they even have an odor.
Evrenol’s Baskin is a loose, dreamily structured descent into that netherworld in the company of a 5-man Turkish police unit. (Baskin is Turkish for “police raid.”) The serpentine sequencing of events evokes a dream logic that gives the film an inescapable atmosphere of dread, creepily underscored by its urgent synth score.
We are trapped along with this group of somewhat detestable, somewhat sympathetic men as they respond to a call for backup in an “off the map” nearby area. What they find is deeply disturbing.
Unless you really like frogs. If so, then – hooray! Frogs!
The rest of it, though? Horrifying.
Evrenol’s imagery is morbidly amazing. Much of it only glimpsed, most of it left unarticulated, but all of it becomes that much more disturbing for its lack of clarity.
The cast is uniformly solid with the exception of Mehmet Cerrahoglu, who may leave you speechless. The director has taken to calling him the new Michael Berryman – a name genre fans will recall as the haunting, hulking, hairless menace in Wes Craven’s The Hills Have Eyes and their nightmares.
Cerrahoglu’s remarkable presence authenticates the hellscape of these characters’ descent. Evrenol’s imaginative set design and wise lighting choices envelope Cerrahoglu, his writhing followers, and his victims in a bloody horror like little else in cinema.
There are moments when Baskin feels like a classier, more stylishly made Nightbreed, but there’s no camp factor here. Just a surreal exploration of the corruptibility of the human soul, and its final destination.
Baskin may infuriate viewers looking for a tidy package, and it may underwhelm gorehounds intrigued by reports of audience walk outs. Be that as it may, the film represents a vital new voice in the genre (Evrenol), not to mention a potentially iconic new face in horror and bad dreams (Cerrahoglu).
If the title Video Massacre Volume 1 conjures the image of some Eighties VHS compilation of B-horror, then perfect. You’re ready for the viewing.
An assortment of 20 shorts filmed by Brooklyn filmmakers, the series boasts a nice mix of polish and camp, all surrounded by the joyously self-referential framing story of demon-ghost Belfy and the hostages he’s forcing to watch the shorts.
Humor – frequently of the toilet variety – gives the film its tone, and the individual shorts are sequenced to offer the experience a good pace. While a handful of the films feel too amateurish, most of them boast excellent production values. It’s clear these were made on tight budgets, but the filmmakers across the board know how to match cinematic technique to the tone of the short.
One animated piece and the fake trailer for “The Shitting” rank among the most entertaining, and two “experiments gone awry” efforts are the most fun. You can also expect a lot to go wrong in the woods.
More than anything, the film feels like a mash note to the genre, right down to the twist ending. (Pay close attention to the credits inside the film. Priceless!)
Join us as we host a Midwest premier of Video Massacre Volume 1 at Gateway Film Center this Saturday, 4/2, at 9:30pm and stick around after for a Q&A with some of the directors:
Grier Dill, director: Trashed, Fungus Adventure
Brett Glass & Grier Dill, director: Brood X
Brett Glass, director: frame story
Joseph Colmenero, director: The Coffin
Winnie Cheung, director: Exit Interview
Suzi Sadler, director: The Retreat
Cale Hughes, director: Jackolantern
Krisha is not only a powerful character study awash in piercing intimacy, it is a stunning feature debut for Trey Edward Shults, a young writer/director with seemingly dizzying potential.
And then there’s the startling turn from Krisha Fairchild, Shults’s real-life Aunt, who after decades of scattershot film and voice work, delivers a jaw-dropping lead performance full of such raw authenticity you begin to feel you are treading where you don’t belong.
That’s no accident. Shultz draws heavily on his own painful family history to bring the story of Krisha (Fairchild), who is attending a big Thanksgiving dinner after 10 long years of estrangement from her loved ones. Slowly, we’re introduced to other family members (some also played by Shults’s relatives) and learn that Krisha is a recovering addict who has done some very bad things.
She’s come to make amends, and most importantly, to try and salvage any chance of a relationship with her son (played by Shults himself).
Expanding his own short film from 2014, Shults is remarkably assured in constructing his narrative. Nothing is spoon fed, rather we grasp what we know about Krisha and her family through guarded conversations and quiet, private moments. From the awkwardness of forced holiday small talk to the inevitable request for the “techy” relative to fix a computer, the scene is unmistakably real. Then, as old wounds become new, the film strikes with a humanity so deeply felt we expect to see our own faces in those family albums left out on the table.
The direction is equally graceful. Calling to mind recent work from Cuaron and Inarritu, Shults gently leads his camera away from character activity to linger on the surroundings, just long enough to call to mind the part they play in Krisha’s fragile psyche.
It is all an artful complement to Fairchild’s intense, blistering portrait of a woman quite literally under the influence. From the truly unnerving opening shot through the next 82 minutes, taking our eyes off of her is nearly unthinkable.
Krisha is a timely reminder what undiscovered talents can achieve despite their limitations of budget, cast or location.
At one point in I Saw the Light, Marc Abraham’s biopic of legendary country performer Hank Williams, the singer tells us, “Everybody has a little darkness in them. I show it to them and they don’t have to take it home.”
It’s a fascinating scene. Too bad it doesn’t describe the film we’re seeing.
The reliably talented Tom Hiddleston lost some pounds as well as his Brit accent to take on the role of the lanky Alabaman. While his performance is not perfect, it is quite good. Between the surprisingly effective singing and the occasionally haunted expression, Hiddleston brings Williams to charming if conflicted life.
Hiddleston is joined by the equally talented Elizabeth Olsen, and the two attempt to animate the volcanic relationship between Williams and wife Audrey. Their chemistry keeps the rocky pairing believable and fascinating, and Olsen’s spitfire performance shows fearlessness.
No, the problem with I Saw the Light is definitely not the cast. But make no mistake, there are serious problems here.
In perhaps the best scene in the film, Williams unveils his most recent effort, the iconic Your Cheatin’ Heart. Heartbroken, ill, and spent, the singer whispers the final line and Abraham cuts to his wife Billie (Maddie Hasson). This might have been a powerful choice if we had spent any time with or been given any information about this particular wife and her allegedly cheatin’ heart.
Abraham (Flash of Genius), who adapted the nonfiction book by Colin Escott, meanders through the musical legend’s personal life while entirely neglecting his music. The film never feels like it is moving forward, offers no real context or reflection on Williams’s personal struggles, and is exasperatingly slight when showcasing his artistry.
Williams tells us in the film that when a country singer sings a sad song, you know that he knows sadness.
Man, I bet that’s true. Too bad I don’t hear his sad songs, nor do I see him battle sadness. I do see him drink, show up too drunk to perform, and marry several times. That may be the fodder for a country song or two, but a satisfying biopic on one of the most influential songwriters in modern music? Nope.
