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Success Is No Accident

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Trigger Happy

by Rachel Willis

Unhappy George (Tyler Poelle) has a plan. Miserable at work, miserable at home, George needs a change. His chosen method for changing his life becomes a madcap adventure of sorts in director Tiffany Kim Stevens’s film, Trigger Happy.

Since misery loves company, George isn’t alone in his dissatisfaction. George’s wife, aspiring actor Annie (Elsha Kim), is as annoyed with George as he is with her. Several others express their frustrations and despairs in various ways as well.

Thankfully, Stevens isn’t interested in making us miserable. Rather than wallow with unhappy characters, we watch as George, Annie, and their friends find ways to improve their circumstances through torrid affairs, spouse murder fantasies, and hilarious professional accomplishments.

Of course, because none of the characters are honest with each other, or even themselves, misunderstandings abound. What could almost be described as comedic hijinks occur, except they’re a little too bloody to be truly called hijinks.

Stevens, co-writing with Daniel Moya, pens dialog with a strange, melodic poetry that gives it a musical quality, adding a level of surrealism to the film. George’s increasing frustrations play well with this quality.

Adding to Trigger Happy‘s uncanniness is the slyly revealed reality of George’s world, which isn’t quite the same as ours. It’s not obvious at first, but as the film progresses, more hints are dropped. And as the title of the movie suggests, guns abound (not so different from our world in that way).

Each person in George’s world is compelling in their own unique way. Though some play a bigger part in George’s misery than others, none of the ancillary characters feel unnecessary. From his coworkers to his boss, to the friendly shop owner, each person has a place in George’s orbit.

Still, it’s Annie, as both his antagonist and his wife, who has the most commanding presence in George’s life. It’s easy to love and loathe both characters.

Trigger Happy is, overall, a winning parody about the miseries of everyday living.

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Horny Danger

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Riff Raff

by George Wolf

What’s that you say? The Monkey‘s brand of humor wasn’t dark enough for ya?

Well Merry F-ing Christmas. Riff Raff lives where it’s none more black, crafting just enough murderous, deadpan funny business to make it worthwhile.

The trouble all starts when Rocco (Lewis Pullman) and his pregnant girlfriend Marina (Emanuela Postacchini) run into Johnny (Michael Angelo Covino). The three share a romantic and friendly past, but when Johnny turns violent Rocco retaliates, which means he and Marina quickly find themselves on the run from Johnny’s gangster father, Lefty (Bill Murray).

The two head to Maine, and check in with Rocco’s father Vincent (Ed Harris), his wife Sandy (Gabrielle Union) and their teenage son D.J. (Miles J. Harvey). Oh, yeah, Rocco’s mother/Vincent’s ex Ruth (Jennifer Coolidge) is there, too, and danger sure makes her horny!

Hubba hubba, then, because danger’s on the way. Lefty and his henchman Lonnie (Pete Davidson) are coming to settle plenty of scores with Rocco’s extended brood.

There’s already much to keep track of, even before director Dito Montiel and writer John Pollono add in various time jumps and voiceover narration from young D.J. At times it feels like they’re both pushing too hard for nutty originality, desperate to put distance between this and other films you’ll be reminded of – especially Bad Times at the El Royale (also with Pullman).

What the film does have in its corner is a winning cast of vets who are all in on this dark ride. Of course, Murray and Coolidge are both a hoot, but Pullman and Postacchini seem believably desperate, Harris and Union hide their character secrets well, and Davidson brings a comically sympathetic layer to the doting and lethal Lonnie.

And when P.J. Byrne and Brooke Dillman pop in as an oversharing couple of suburbanites who are too clueless to be scared, their few minutes of exaggerated laughs are a welcome yin to the yang in the rest of the film.

It’s dry, bloody and violent, and is sure to be polarizing. If that’s an approach that speaks to you, Riff Raff can be downright hilarious. But chances are you may find this family crime caper as curious as it is funny.

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No Place Like Home

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Invader

by Hope Madden

Lean, mean and affecting, Mickey Keating’s take on the home invasion film wastes no time. In a wordless—though not soundless—opening, the filmmaker introduces an unhinged presence.

Cut to Ana (Vero Maynez). She’s sleepy, it’s late, the bus is empty except for the driver hustling her off, his voice constant, annoyed, and on repeat: Come on. Get off the bus. Last stop. You gotta go.

It’s 4:30 am. The bus was late, the station is deserted, and Carmilla—Ana’s cousin—is not answering.

Immediately Keating sets our eyes and ears against us. His soundtrack frequently blares death metal, a tactic that emphasizes a chaotic, menacing mood the film never shakes. Using primarily handheld cameras from the unnerving opening throughout the entire film, the filmmaker maintains an anarchic energy, a sense of the characters’ frenzy and the endless possibility of violence.

Keating strings together a handful of believably tumultuous moments early in the film—particularly a couple of run-ins with a horn-blaring cabbie—to work the nerves and leave you feeling as raw and vulnerable as Ana. Rather than dip and settle, Invader delivers relentlessly on that early sense of harried terror.

Scenes possess an improvisational quality that coincides with the rawness of the overall effort. Keating is spare with exposition—if you can’t figure out what’s going on without having it explained to you, you are clearly not paying attention. The verité style accomplishes what it’s mean to, lending Invader an authenticity that amplifies the horror.

Maynez carries that authenticity. Ana never feels written, she feels alive. Her confusion, anger, fear—all of it runs together in a way that reflects what the audience is experiencing in each moment. Her limited screentime with Colin Huerta introduces enough tenderness to give the sense of terror real depth.

Joe Swanberg, with limited screentime and even more limited dialog, crafts a terrifying image of havoc. His presence is perversely menacing, an explosion of rage and horror.

Invader delivers a spare, nasty, memorable piece of horror in just over an hour. It will stick with you a while longer. 

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Furious George

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The Monkey

by Hope Madden & George Wolf

Why is it that so many kids’ toys are creepy? Not that you should call The Monkey a toy. You should not, ever. Because this windup organ grinder monkey, with its red eyes and horrifyingly realistic teeth, is more of a furry, murder happy nightmare.

The film itself is a match made in horror heaven. Osgood Perkins (Longlegs, Gretel & Hansel, The Blackcoat’s Daughter) adapts and directs the short story by Stephen King about sibling rivalry and the unpredictability of death.

The delightfully low-key Christian Convery (Cocaine Bear) carries the first half of the film as young Hal and Bill, twins who discover their dad’s old closet full of knickknacks and collectibles, one of which will indiscriminately kill a lot of people. They boys eventually believe they’ve eliminated the beast, but decades later, the adult brothers (played with deadpan precision and one impressive mullet by Theo James) must contend with bloody monkey business once more.

Perkins surrounds his deliberately low energy leads with bizarre, colorful characters—even more colorful when they catch fire, explode, are disemboweled, etcetera. The film is laced with wonderful bursts of Final Destination-like bloodletting, as the Monkey’s executions are carried out via Rube Goldberg chain reactions that quickly become fun to anticipate.

Yes, fun. And funny.

There is a different tone at work here for Perkins. It’s one that is somehow both bone dry and silly, creating a dark humor that wallows delightfully in the pulpy carnage. His usual aesthetic of dreamy Gothic beauty is replaced by a more grimy, Earth tone palette that seems purposefully at odds with the stated time stamps.

And yet, underneath all of it you’ll find a meaningful layer that speaks to absentee fathers and generational trauma. There are disjointed moments, but only a few, thanks mainly to grounded reminders about the monkey’s shoulder-shrugging mantra: “everybody dies.”

Indeed. And if sometimes they need a little help, well, you can always wind up Furious George and take your chances.

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Unhappy Birthdays & Home Invasions

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Everyone Is Going to Die

by Brooklyn Ewing

Daniel (Brad Moore) is a wealthy entrepreneur looking to reconnect with his teen daughter, Imogen (Gledisa Arthur), on her birthday. The angst-ridden party is interrupted when a woman in a mask appears in the yard of their secluded home.  

Director Craig Tuohy has created an uncomfortable thriller reminiscent of some of 2005-2010’s most popular French horror releases. Everyone Is Going to Die is stress-inducing, and filled with dread, and some of the scenes will be a tough, and triggering, watch for a lot of viewers. 

The cinematography is solid, and adds to the overall tension as the plot uncoils like a venomous snake waiting to catch you off guard. Actress Jaime Winstone is dialed in as Comedy, the masked intruder who has a lot to say about the patriarchy, and overtly wealthy men. She goes full out offering up a villain we love to hate. 

The film isn’t afraid to show, instead of tell, and the special fx makeup goes all in. One scene in particular had me yelling out loud at how real it looked. The masks created for the film are unsettling, bringing a level of tension to the first half as well.  

This movie isn’t for everyone. If you lean toward movies like Last House on the Left, The Strangers, Inside, or Funny Games, then you will not want to miss this. But viewer be warned, there are some very unsettling scenes that make this one harder to recommend to less seasoned horror fans. The twists and turns will satisfy viewers who love to play detective, and the creepy tension, and gore, will keep horror fans watching. 

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Shoot the Glass

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Cleaner

by George Wolf

Just months ago, Netflix thriller Carry-On rode a serious Die Hard vibe for a ridiculous bit of popcorn fun. Cleaner has much of the same in mind, borrowing some more specific plot points for Daisy Ridley’s turn as the fly in some terrorist’s ointment.

Ridley plays Joey Locke, an ex-soldier who still carries scars from an abusive childhood shared with her autistic brother Michael (newcomer Matthew Tuck). Joey is already struggling to hold on to her job as a window cleaner and make sure Michael is cared for, but her day is about to get much worse.

Joey’s latest gig is cleaning the windows at the London high rise where the Agnian Energy Corp is holding their annual gala. No, it’s not Nakatomi Plaza and it’s not Christmas Eve, but Marcus (Clive Owen) and his group of environmentalist activists crash the party with a plan to expose Agnian’s history of crime and corruption.

At least, that what Marcus thinks. His buddy Noah Santos (Taz Skylar) has more extreme plans, violently hijacking the operation and the building, with 300 hostages (including Michael) inside.

Their best hope? One pissed off Joey, right outside the glass, dangling high up on her cleaning platform.

At first, Joey is only thinking of Michael’s safety. But once inside the building, the anti-authority streak that got Joey kicked out of the military pushes her to go after the bad guys, and Ridley sells it with gusto.

Veteran director Martin Campbell (Casino Royale, Goldeneye, Memory) doesn’t waste time in getting down to business, and engineers some effective action set pieces both inside and outside the glass. And the team of screenwriters does arrange a surprise of two amid the mash of recycled ideas.

But when you have someone as talented as Ridley cast as the everywoman trying to save the day, the idea still works. She seems especially energized at the chance to get physical, and manages to pull the unmemorable Cleaner up to satisfying new heights.

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Not So Empty Nest

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Suze

by Brandon Thomas

Susan (Michaela Watkins of Heart Eyes) doesn’t have a lot going on in her life. Her marriage is over due to her ex’s humiliating bit of infidelity, her daughter treats her more like an annoyance than a parent, and her job – while something she’s successful at – isn’t filling her with much joy. When her daughter surprises her with the news that she’s selected a college several hundred miles away, Susan is not only stuck with the loneliness of an empty house, but also dealing with Gage (Charlie Gillespie of Totally Killer), her daughter’s despondent ex-boyfriend. When Gage suffers an accident and his inattentive father doesn’t show much interest, Susan (or Suze, as Gage likes to call her) takes the young man into her home.

Suze isn’t the kind of film that’s looking to take the audience on a ride of twists and turns. For better or worse, you know what you’re in for with a movie like this one. The beats are similar to a hundred different dramedies you’ve seen over the years, yet Suze manages to pull off something a little fresher and that’s thanks to a better-than-normal cast. 

As the titular character, Michaela Watkins carries the film on her shoulders. In virtually every scene, Watkins is tasked with walking a tightrope that asks the audience to laugh at – and with – Suze, pity her, and cheer her on all within a scant 93 minutes. Watkins’s comedic chops are on full display, but it’s the quieter character moments that give Suze that extra bite. I mean, it’s not Shakespeare in the Park, but Watkins is a pro and she hits every beat to create a character that’s interesting and compelling. 

Gillespie might have a more difficult job as Gage. A hodge-podge of burnout and Canadian surfer dude (that’s a thing, right?), Gage skirts the line between obnoxious and vulnerable. Gillespie does a notable job of showing how Gage’s heartbreak over his own mother fuels his need for Suze’s approval and constant attention. The script isn’t subtle about it, but Gillespie’s performance adds a few extra shades of gray.

Suze might not scratch that itch if you’re looking for something wholly original, but if you’re in the mood for a pleasant, well-acted Canadian dramedy, it will hit the spot.

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The Crew Is Good

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The Quiet Ones

by Matt Weiner

Chicago. Miami. Los Angeles… Copenhagen?

The city might not spring to mind as a cinematic crime capital. But The Quiet Ones from director Frederik Louis Hviid is here to rectify that with a taut retelling of the largest heist in Danish history.

In both direction and tone, with a suitably lean script by Anders Frithiof August, The Quiet Ones brings the spirit of Michael Mann to Scandinavia. Kasper (Gustav Giese) is a boxer who is too much of a loser to even be a contender. (He can’t even rise to “coulda been the guy the contenders knock out on the way to better matches.”)

He yearns to be something more, and Giese lends the stoic Kasper enough ambiguity that it’s never fully clear if he wants to succeed more for his family or himself. Although part of that also stems from the script having little time for motivation or character development that extends beyond criminal shorthand and quick tropes.

Kasper has ties to the criminal underworld through his brother-in-law, and gets tapped by a ruthless killer (Reda Kateb) to help plan the daring robbery of a cash-handling business that holds tens of millions of international currency in a nondescript warehouse.

There is little that exists in the world of The Quiet Ones outside of the planning and execution of the heist, but then that’s not the movie it wants to be. Instead, Hviid delivers a series of gripping, highly effective action sequences. Long takes and inspired framing never shy away from brutality, especially the heart-pounding opening that sets the tone for what to expect from the robbers.

The film excels at what it’s there to deliver, but has much less in the way of compelling connective tissue for anything else. And that’s even more so for the cops side of the cops and robbers equation.

Maria (Amanda Collin, the only person called on to flash even more pained silent grimaces than Kasper) is a security guard at the warehouse that gets robbed. As an aspiring police officer, her singular focus puts her on a collision course with the thieves. But there’s just not enough time with most characters, and the inevitable confrontation comes across as overdetermined rather than climactic.

There’s also the financial crisis of 2007-2008 that hovers over the heist through news reports and imbues the film with some occasional social commentary that the script itself doesn’t have time to get to. But this is ultimately a heist movie. The Quiet Ones and its crew are there to do one job, and they do it well.

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One Bad Hat

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The Unbreakable Boy

by Hope Madden

Filmmaker Jon Gunn makes inspirational movies. Some of them are overly faith based (The Case for Christ, Do You Believe?). Others are of the less overt, true story style (Ordinary Angels). The Unbreakable Boy is of the second variety.

Zachary Levi is Scott, a dad out of his depth with a young son who is on the spectrum and suffers from brittle bone disease. The ebullient Austin (Jacob Laval) is not bothered by his condition or anything else. But middle school approaches, and as Austin transitions to adolescence, other fractures within the family begin to make themselves known.

Based on a true story, the film demands that you recognize that while Austin would be exhausting, he is also an absolute joy. Laval is adorable. His indominable spirit fuels the film and when Gunn’s focus changes to another family member, Laval’s presence is missed.

What the film gets right is the heartbreaking difficulty of parenting, rarely giving into unidimensional characterizations and allowing for weakness and weariness as well as joy.

Levi’s a natural charmer and Meghann Fahy impresses, carving an honest character of the underwritten loving wife role. Likewise, young Gavin Warren makes the most of his limited screentime.

Levi is considerably less convincing when it comes to the more emotionally difficult scenes. This weakness is paired with a weird imaginary friend situation. Though Drew Powell (the friend) brings welcome levity and opportunity for insight—and, per post-film snapshots of the real family, this was an actual part of their lives—he’s used as a narrative convenience and feels like unnecessary nonsense.

Gunn’s script, co-written with Scott LeRette and Susy Flory, lacks focus and it’s never clear whose story we’re trying to tie up. Needless, often cloying voiceovers from multiple characters compound the problem, without completely sinking the film.

The Unbreakable Boy is more evenhanded than most of Gunn’s movies, although subtle it’s not. It’s tidy and predictable and suffers under the weight of sentimentality. But it’s undeniably sweet, and if an inspirational film appeals to you, you could do worse than to let Jacob Laval charm you for 90 minutes.