Screening Room: Speak No Evil, The Killer’s Game, The 4:30 Movie & More
Tag Archives: movie reviews
Quiet, Please
Speak No Evil
by Hope Madden
Speak No Evil is in a tough spot. Essentially, you’re either a moviegoer who will breathe easier this weekend knowing you’ll never again have to sit through the excruciating trailer, you’re a potentially interested horror fan, or you’re a horror fanatic wary that director James Watkins will pull punches landed by Christian Tafdrup’s almost unwatchably grim but genuinely terrifying 2022 original.
Well, Watkins does not pull those punches, but they do land differently.
Louise and Ben Dalton (Mackenzie Davis and Scoot McNairy) are vacationing blandly in Italy with their 11-year-old, Agnes (Alix West Lefler) when a louder, more alive family catches Ben’s attention.
Paddy (James McAvoy) and Ciara (Aisling Franciosi) and their quiet lad Ant (Dan Hough) seem to be living life large, and Ben can’t help but envy that. So, after the Daltons are tucked blandly back into their London flat and he receives a postcard from their vacation pals inviting them out to the countryside, how can he say no?
We all know he should have said no, but that’s not how horror movies happen.
What follows is a horror of manners, and very few genres are more agonizing than that. Little by little by little, alone and very far from civilization, the Daltons’ polite respectability is jostled and clawed and eventually, of course, gutted.
Those familiar with Watkins’s work, especially his remarkable and remarkably unpleasant Eden Lake, needn’t worry that he’ll let you off the hook. This is not the sanitized English language version fans of the original feared.
Indeed, Watkins and a game cast highlighted by a feral McAvoy stick to Tafdrup’s script for better than half of the film. Watkins, who adapted the original script, complicates relationships and gives the visiting Dalton parents more backbone, but he doesn’t neuter the grim story being told. Instead, he ratches up tension, provides a more coherent backstory, and pulls out the big guns in Act 3.
If you’ve seen the original, I don’t think you’ll be disappointed by the direction the remake takes. Though it can feel like a correction aimed at pleasing a wider audience, it also makes for a more satisfying film.
Fanciosi is carving out a career of wonderfully nuanced genre performances (Nightingale, Stopmotion). We learned in 2017 with Split that McAvoy can do anything. Anything at all. He proves that here with a ferocious turn, evoking vulnerability and contempt sometimes in the same moment. It’s a compelling beast he creates, and no wonder weary travelers fall under his spell.
Watkins doesn’t make enough movies. For his latest he’s chosen a project with the narrowest chance of success. But here’s hoping he finds it.
Stardust Memories
Close Your Eyes
by George Wolf
Thirty-two years later, Spanish auteur Víctor Erice returns with his fourth feature, Close Your Eyes (Cerrar los ojos), a patiently exquisite study of memory, identity, and the reflecting power of film.
Former film director Miguel Garay (Manolo Solo) spends his days in a fishing village on the coast of Spain. He reads, writes the occasional short story, and dodges the conspiracy theories that still exist about his old friend Julio Arenas (Jose Coronado).
In 1990, Julio was starring in Miguel’s film The Farewell Gaze when he disappeared without a trace. The mystery is being revisited on TV’s “Unresolved Cases,” and Miguel travels to Madrid for his guest appearance.
The broadcast prompts a call from a woman from an elder care home in another Spanish village. There is a handyman they call Gardel who tends the grounds and keeps to himself. She is sure it is Julio.
Miguel must confirm this for himself, and the journey back through his past includes reconnecting with his film editor (Mario Pardo), a former lover (Soledad Villamil), Julio’s daughter (Ana Torrent), and one painful, tragic memory.
Erice (El Sur, The Spirit of the Beehive) sets a pace that is unhurried but necessary, and he fills the nearly three-hour running time with exquisite shot making, insightful dialog and meaningful silences. He also crafts the film-within-a-film as a compelling narrative in its own right, one that adds important elements to the touching and deeply resonant finale.
Now in his mid-eighties, Erice makes Close Your Eyes more than just a rumination on “how to grow old.” Expertly assembled and deceptively understated, it is a beautiful ode to the pleasure, pain, friendships and memories of a life well lived.
Matinee Rats
The 4:30 Movie
by George Wolf
Maybe Kevin Smith saw Sam Mendes, James Gray and Spielberg all come out of the pandemic with reflections on their film-loving early years. Or maybe he just liked the taste of Paul Thomas Anderson’s Licorice Pizza.
Either way, The 4:30 Movie finds Smith looking back with wistful zaniness at a pivotal time in his own life: 1986.
High school Junior Brian David (Austin Zajur from Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark and Smith’s own Clerks III) just can’t quit thinking about that time he made out with cute Sophomore Melody Barnegot (Siena Agudong, the Resident Evil TV series) in her backyard pool.
For some reason, Brian didn’t immediately follow up on that makeout sesh. But now he’s ready to ask for an official date, and they make plans to meet for the 4:30 screening of Bucklick (which, based on the theater poster, is the original Fletch).
But how they gonna sneak past the crazy theater manager (Ken Jeong) and into an R-rated flick? Turns out that’s just one of the obstacles standing between these kids and a movie.
You’ve also got Brian’s two friends (Reed Northrup, Nicholas Cirillo), their favorite wrestling entertainer (Sam Richardson), a Hot Usher (Genesis Rodriguez, and that is her character name), false accusations of perversion and a string of Smith regulars (Jason Mewes, Rosario Dawson, Jeff Anderson, Justin Long and Jason Lee).
I’ve laughed hard at some of Smith’s earlier movies, respected his blunt self-awareness and appreciated the moments when his frenetic dialog lands with earned insight. Here, while some overt Gen X reminiscing – bolstered by the closing Easter egg and blooper reel – may have a warmth about it, the charming core relationship between Brian and Melody gets lost. We’re pulling for them, but all the tangential and unnecessary diversions just end up working against the crude honesty that has marked Smith’s best work.
Few moments transcend beyond nostalgia, while the only laugh out loud sequence comes from mother/daughter Jennifer Schwalbach Smith and Harley Quinn Smith in Sugar Walls, the first of Kevin’s fake trailers. The other 85 minutes or so find humor that’s as obvious and forced as the speech from Hot Usher that lights a filmmaking fire in a young nerd.
The 4:30 Movie is certainly the Kevin Smith-iest of the filmmaker’s memory lanes we’ve been down recently. It’s also the most fractured and frustrating. Let’s hope his future is more rewarding.
Fatal (Error) Attraction
Subservience
by Daniel Baldwin
Life isn’t going so well for construction foreman Nick (Michele Morrone). Stress is high in his professional life, now that every construction worker beneath him has been canned in favor of robot labor. Lucky for Nick, the law still requires that a human foreman be on site. At least for now, anyway.
Things at home are even more stressful. His wife Maggie (Madeline Zima) needs a new heart. Having a costly, life-threatening surgery hanging over their heads isn’t easing any tensions. With Maggie in the hospital, Nick needs some help taking care of the kids and their home. Enter Alice (Megan Fox). Alice is a robot assistant designed specifically for housekeeping and babysitting. If you think hiring a cyborg nanny that looks like Megan Fox to (temporarily) replace the woman of the house is a bad idea, you are 110% correct.
What transpires from that moment onward isn’t going to be a shock to horror fans or even Lifetime viewers. A mentally and emotionally exhausted Nick does the stupidest thing imaginable: he sleeps with the robo-femme fatale, it develops a fixation on him, and chaos ensues. This isn’t a spoiler, it’s the hook. It’s exactly what we watch movies like this for. As the late Roger Ebert said, “it’s not what a movie is about, it’s how it is about it.”
Thankfully, the execution is mostly on point. While the world-building could have been stronger and the eroticism could have used a bit more steam, this is an entertaining high-concept yarn that wisely leans on its core cast. Subservience marks Megan Fox’s second teaming with director SK Dale, following on from their underseen 2021 thriller Till Death. While Fox isn’t given as much to chew on here due to the sheer nature of the role, she remains a standout.
Morrone carries himself well as the male lead and Zima is great as the wife who really shouldn’t have to be dealing with a stupid man or a crazy android on top of her life-threatening medical condition. Then again, maybe the bad luck is just all on Zima herself? After all, as the star of the ‘90s sitcom The Nanny, as well as both Mr. Nanny and The Hand That Rocks the Cradle, this underrated actress seems to be a magnet for psychotic babysitters!
If you’re a fan of science fiction-tinged thrillers, check it out.
What’s New Pussycat?
Booger
by Hope Madden
There’s a particular feeling that often accompanies grief. It’s the feeling of being unmoored, of somehow not really knowing who you are without the person you’ve lost. Writer/director Mary Dauterman details that feeling as well as the mixture of depression, numbness, confusion, and a desire to escape your own reality with her weirdly gross feature debut, Booger.
That’s the name of a cat. Izzy (Sofia Dobrushin) let the mangy stray in through the window one day, much to the dismay of best friend and roommate Anna (Grace Glowicki). It was filthy. Nasty. But Booger grew on Anna, and then, the same day Izzy dies in a bike accident, Anna realizes Booger is missing.
Her aimless quest to find her dead friend’s missing cat and her own slow transformation into a mangy, filthy, nasty beast give Anna the opportunity to avoid dealing with Izzy’s death.
Dauterman gets points for puncturing the nobility of grief and tapping into its necessary selfishness and cognitive dysfunction. Additional points for just being as gross as possible about it.
Glowicki’s awkward, strangely relatable performance helps Dauterman create a tone that’s simultaneously fantastical and banal. Anna’s own loosening grip on reality is balanced by a wonderfully honest turn from Marcia DeBonis (Sometimes I Think About Dying) as Izzy’s mom. Heather Matarazzo delivers a fine cameo in a role, like several in the film, that offset the unpleasantness with broad but dark humor.
The body horror elements are never done to terrify, but they may very well make you gag.
The dramedy doesn’t dig terribly deep, and Dauterman does not complicate the plot. We’re along for the ride as Anna lets her life crumble around her while she imagines she’s turning into a feral cat so she can avoid facing her friend’s death.
The character study pretty studiously avoids letting us get to know Anna’s character. She’s lost who she is and can’t seem to move on. Still, a committed, wryly comical turn from Glowicki and Dauterman’s insightful if unexpected direction ensure a memorable and strangely affecting film.
Not Too Tasty
Wineville
by Rachel Willis
Right from the start, director and star Brande Roderick lets you know what kind of film you’re in for with Wineville—and it’s not a warm family reunion. Something sinister waits for Tess (Roderick) when she takes her son to settle her father’s estate, inadvertently left to her after he dies without a will.
Still living on the family vineyard is Aunt Margaret (Carolyn Hennesy) and Joe (Casey King). Joe’s presence at the vineyard is one Tess doesn’t expect, but the audience knows right away that something is amiss.
Unfortunately, the promise of the film’s opening isn’t realized during the bulk of the move. What unfolds is a mishmash of genres and tones.
Often, the film’s tone wreaks havoc on what we’re is supposed to pick up from certain scenes. Actions take on unintentional comedic undertones rather than building tension. Flashbacks are so over-the-top that their traumatic occurrences don’t carry the gravitas they should. It makes for some confused viewing.
Despite Tess’s past trauma, she isn’t the most compelling character. Her son seems to exist only to give importance to what lies ahead. Unfortunately, the characters never come to life in a way that makes you worry for them or care what happens. It probably would have been better if Tess had brought a dog along with her instead of a son (and I say this as the mother of a son).
The best part of Wineville is Joe. He’s the most compelling character, and the one who truly seems to carry the weight of the family’s traumatic past. Tess flippantly states “she’s over it” after recounting a series of horrific events and the film doesn’t do much to show that she really isn’t. On the other hand, Joe seems to have suffered less but carries the pain with him more honestly. How the past manifests in his present is the most interesting part of the story.
It’s a shame there is too much going on for the film to really hone its focus. This one leaves a lot to be desired.
Screening Room: Beetlejuice Beetlejuice, The Front Room, Rebel Ridge, Red Rooms, Winner & More
Ghoul of Your Dreams
Beetlejuice Beetlejuice
by Hope Madden
No one has ever mastered gruesome charm, macabre whimsy, as fully as Tim Burton. His 1985 masterpiece Pee-wee’s Big Adventure made a name for him and his 1989 blockbuster Batman changed cinema. But it was with that movie in between, his ’88 nerdy goth classic Beetlejuice that we began to see the real Burton.
It also gave all outsiders everywhere the gift of Lydia Deets, so thank you Burton and Winona Ryder for that.
Lydia returns to Winter River, Connecticut with her widowed stepmother Delia, (Catherine O’Hara, glorious as always), and her estranged daughter, Astrid (Jenna Ortega). The family has reunited to mourn the passing of Lydia’s father.
Meanwhile, in the After World, BJ (Michael Keaton, all festering charisma) is still missing the one who got away (Lydia)—a theme, since his ex-wife (Monica Bellucci) has reanimated and is looking to swallow his soul.
One thing leads to another, somebody says his name three times, wedding bells ring, and Burton delivers his finest film in years.
Beetlejuice Beetlejuice isn’t too hindered by fan service, and it benefits from fun new characters and a couple of great cameos. Justin Theroux is a hoot as Lydia’s yoga-retreat-douche-bro beau, and Willem Dafoe’s a fun distraction.
Ryder gets plenty of opportunity to look conflicted. Every close up—and there are plenty—is just choppy bangs, big browns, furrowed brow. But Lydia’s flanked with fun, energetic characters—both old and new—so the film never drags.
Each set piece is an imaginative, ghoulish delight and O’Hara could be booked with larceny for as many scenes as she steals.
The main draw, of course, is he who really shouldn’t be named, at least not thrice. Keaton and his iconic over-the-topisms beam with the joyous vibe the entire film delivers. The sequel feels less like a rehash or cash grab and more like a return to form—a return to ideas and creations that unleashed Burton’s imagination in ways few other projects have. It’s fun to have that back.
Seeing Red
Red Rooms
by Hope Madden
True crime culture. Serial killer groupies. The Dark Web. Does all of it seem too grim, too of-the-moment, too cliché to make for a deeply affecting thriller these days?
Au contraire, mon frère. Québécois Pascal Plante makes nimble use of these elements to craft a nailbiter of a serial killer thriller with his latest effort, Red Rooms.
What is a Red Room? It’s a dark web chamber where you can watch the kind of thing Ludovic Chevalier (Maxwell McCabe-Lokos) is accused of doing. You don’t want to see what goes on there (and thankfully Plante does not subject us to it). Instead, we stalk Chevalier’s trial day after day with Kelly-Anne (Juliette Gariépy, astonishing).
But what is this model and online poker player doing sleeping in an alley just to get in line early enough to claim one of the few peanut gallery seats available for this, Quebec’s trial of the decade?
The enigma of Kelly-Anne—and Gariépy’s meticulous performance—becomes the gravitational pull in Plante’s riveting thriller. What is she doing and why is she doing it? Is she good or bad? Should we be worried about Clementine (Laurie Babin, a perfect dose of tenderness against Gariépy’s cool delivery), the down-and-out groupie Kelly-Anne takes in?
Plante expertly braids vulnerability and psychopathy, flesh and glass, humanity and the cyber universe for a weirdly compelling peek at how easily one could slide from one world to the other.
His real magic trick—one that remarkably few filmmakers have pulled off—is generating edge-of-your-seat anxiety primarily with keyboard clicks, computer screens and wait times. But the tension Plante builds—thanks to Gariépy’s precise acting—is excruciating.
They keep you disoriented, fascinated, a little repulsed and utterly breathless.
Many filmmakers in the last few years—the number growing with the rise of internet culture and mushrooming since the pandemic—have sought to reflect the dehumanizing effect of isolation. Few have done so with such unerring results as Plante and Gariépy. And they spawned a stellar thriller in the process.
