Tag Archives: Rachel Willis

Cryptids

by Rachel Willis

In the anthology horror film Cryptids, horror veteran Joe Bob Briggs plays radio show host Major Harlan Dean. Dean hosts the call-in show, The Truth Serum. With that kind of name, you might suspect a show dedicated to all manner of conspiracy-style neuroticism. However, in the episode we’re privy to, Dean’s focus is cryptozoology – he wants callers to recount their encounters with cryptid creatures. 

By setting up the framing story this way, each call into the radio show becomes its own entry. As with any anthology horror, some of the shorts are better than others. In this case, all deal with creepy creatures – some familiar beasties, like chupacabras, and others that are unique to this movie. 

The first segment is a bit of a stretch for its inclusion in a film about cryptids since the creatures in question are technically human. However, they’re creepy and unnerving enough that you probably won’t mind their presence. The first short is also a nice warm up for what’s to come. It’s not the best of the bunch, but it’s fun and just a little creepy.

Since each mini movie has only so much time to work with, every short opens with a call into Dean’s show before jumping right to the heart of the matter – the monsters.

The movie’s best aspect is the creature effects. Each creature has its own unnerving features, and each is unique, though some resemble monsters you may have seen before. Little creatures that hatch from a giant egg were my personal favorite beasties as they were both creepy and adorable (something only a mother could love?).

There is always a certain amount of enjoyment that comes with anthology horror since you’re not always sure what will come next. While in this case, it’s clear to be some kind of creature, what they are and what they do is where the fun comes in. Some of the creature antics are gruesome, leaving no shortage of gore and carnage in many of the segments. While the writing can sometimes leave a little to be desired, the film’s overall effect is entertaining. If you like creature features, each of Cryptids little creature slices is enjoyably nasty.

Proceed with Caution

Waiting for the Light to Change

by Rachel Willis

The quarter-life crisis. From the hindsight of middle-age, it seems an enviable position to be in. Yet, the memory is fresh enough to recognize the anxiety, loneliness, and a certain longing for direction. Director Linh Tran captures the feeling with heartfelt tenderness in her film Waiting for the Light to Change.

Falling between the ages of 23 and 25, several friends, including Amy (Jin Park) and Kim (Joyce Ha), have gathered at a beach house. Kim has a boyfriend, a career, and enough money to allow Amy to join the group. Amy, on the other hand, is single and back in school because she couldn’t find a job.

Kim’s cousin Lin (Qun Chi) has recently broken up with a beloved boyfriend because the distance between the United States and China was too great.

Tran mines the tumultuous years after college to examine characters on the verge of their adult lives. Amy’s loneliness pushes her to do things she might not otherwise do. The aimlessness Jay (Sam Straley) feels leads him to make decisions he later regrets.

And though they have the connection of a lengthy friendship, Amy and Kim’s conversations are often fraught with tension. The early- to-mid 20s is a period when many start to realize a friendship made in youth may be toxic.

The film loses its momentum as it moves toward its climax. The group’s apathy starts to manifest in more solid ways, which detracts from the affecting dialogue. As images take the place of realistic and uncomfortable moments between characters, the movie flounders.

A few moments try too hard for profundity and instead stumble over stereotypical conversation. It’s disappointing that these unnatural moments shoulder their way into a film more notable for its naturalism.

However, Waiting for the Light to Change rights itself as it progresses. As relationships rupture, we’re drawn into the turmoil that often plagues adolescents as they struggle to find their way into adulthood.

Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell

Eismayer

by Rachel Willis

Based on a true story, writer/director David Wagner’s Eismayer explores themes of repression and masculinity.

Our introduction to Sergeant Major Eismayer (Gerhard Liebmann), notorious hardass, is a conversation in the bathroom between several Austrian soldiers giving newest recruit Falak (Luka Dimic) a lesson in the man’s terrorizing behavior.

When we meet the Sergeant Major himself, he oversees a locker inspection and harasses Falak. He is strict and cruel and the talk from the previous scene has not been exaggerated.

At home, he is affectionate with his son, but there is tension between him and his wife. As the film unfolds, a fight between Falak and another soldier reveals that Falak is gay. This puts new pressure on Falak, as well as Eismayer.

Though Eismayer’s coldness and cruelty could be written off as a reaction to his self-repression, the film doesn’t rest on such a simple explanation. His attitude isn’t just about his homosexuality, but his ideas about what it means to be both a man and a soldier.

Liebmann excels. He brings multiple facets to what could be a simplistic or stereotypical portrayal. Dimic initially has less to work with. However, as the film unfolds, the two characters begin to dance around the complexity of their situation.

More of the film’s underlying tensions would come across with a robust knowledge of Austria’s history and culture, including the implications of Falak’s Yugoslavian background. But there’s no missing the discrimination he faces.

Even as Austria and the army move forward, there are some that would hold both back. Eismayer, himself, resists change, even as he’s pushed toward accepting himself for who he is. That men and women still fear repercussions for embracing who they are is both heartbreaking and infuriating. It’s why stories like Eismayer’s still need to be told.

Family Planning

Plan C

by Rachel Willis

Even before the fall of Roe v. Wade, abortion access was next to impossible for many across the United States, particularly for those in red states where legislatures worked hard to limit access as much as possible.

That’s where Plan C comes in – co-founded by Elisa Wells and Francine Coeytaux, Plan C attempts to get women information and access to abortion pills – in any way possible. Tracy Droz Tragos’s documentary, Plan C, focuses on the fight to get information and access to those who need it most.

The documentary begins during the height of COVID. Access to the ingredients needed to make the pills (which come mainly from India and China) was hard to come by, so the founders of Plan C took it upon themselves to encourage medical professionals to prescribe abortion pills for those in need.

However, Plan C doesn’t just examine the efforts of Plan C to get Mifepristone & Misoprostol into women’s hands. The documentary also spends time examining the hypocrisy of the “pro-life” movement, from the support of family planning clinics in neighborhoods of color by politicians on the right, to the lack of outcry in Flint over lead in the water (lead causes miscarriages), to the reality for Black women in Mississippi who are 118 times more likely to die from a pregnancy than an abortion. The question raised is “whose life are you saving?”

Texas is a major here, as its law, passed before the fall of Roe v. Wade, was one of the harshest in the country (Ohio’s own is currently on hold pending appeals and/or the passage of Issue 1 in November). Plan C’s plan of action to tackle the law is to keep getting information into women’s hands.

There is a sense of fear throughout the documentary, even as the women of Plan C continue their fight. There are threats of violence, even death, to those who provide abortions – and not just abortions, but information on how to obtain them. Again, it begs the question, whose life matters?

Plan C acknowledges that the work has gotten harder with the revocation of Roe v. Wade, but the important takeaway is that there are many who won’t stop fighting for reproductive rights. For these women, it’s about standing up to bullies. Whether that bully is a legislature, protestors, or a group of men with guns, these women will continue the fight to ensure safe, legal abortions.

Murder by Number

Head Count

by Rachel Willis

A freak occurrence while working on a prison chain gang allows Kat (Aaron Jakubenko) the chance to run. It’s a opportunity he takes, only to end up on the wrong side of his own gun in the film Head Count, directed by the Burghart Brothers.

Flashing back, Kat runs through the past few days, wondering where each of the six bullets in his gun’s barrel have gone. Are there any left?

A running tally as we move through Kat’s memories removes any guessing on the audience’s part. I did feel there were one too many bullets left in one scene, but I also wouldn’t be surprised if I miscounted, even with the handy on-screen ticker. Unfortunately, removing the audience’s job of keeping count of the bullets over the course of the film’s runtime eliminates any tension.

Each flashback is accompanied by on-screen text that lets us know where we are in Kat’s life. Unlike the bullet count, the solid placement in time is useful. Throughout the flashbacks, we continue to jump back to the moment where the gun is trained on Kat’s head, an unnecessary reminder of the stakes as we tally each bullet.

Still, the film’s biggest flaw is the dialogue. There’s too much exposition and too much filler. Many conversations ring false, particularly those between Kat and his would-be killer.

The acting helps strengthen the flimsy dialogue, mostly because it’s delivered with conviction. Jakubenko especially works hard to bring Kat’s predicaments (which just keep coming) to life.

Not everyone gets as much to work with – yet another of the film’s weaker elements. The ancillary characters, especially the ones Kat cares about, don’t bring a lot to the table. The lack of depth means we don’t much care what happens to them, even as Kat tries to convince us to do just that.

There are a few humorous scenes that help balance the film’s weaker moments, but even these successes aren’t enough to completely negate the less interesting scenes. However, it’s a decent premise and the Burghart brothers bring their own take to this western thriller. There’s enough to keep one entertained if not completely satisfied.

Going Home Again

Amerikatsi

by Rachel Willis

With the historical drama Amerikatsi, writer, director and star Michael Goorjian explores the harsh, sometimes funny, reality of life in Soviet Armenia during the 1930s.

During the Armenian Genocide, four-year-old Charlie is smuggled out of Armenia and sent to the United States. He returns to his homeland as an adult (Goorjian) after Joseph Stalin offers survivors of the genocide scattered around the world a chance to return to Soviet Armenia.

However, after saving a young boy from a mob, Charlie runs afoul of a soldier who doesn’t like his public displays of religiosity or his Americanism. Accused of spying for the United States, Charlie is sentenced to ten years hard labor.

Charlie finds comfort in the view from the window of his cell: a glimpse into the lives of an Armenian couple. This unexpected view allows him the chance to form a connection with the outside world. It’s this link that sustains him during his imprisonment.

Despite the seriousness of the situation, Goorjian elicits humor where he can find it. There’s an absurdity to Charlie’s circumstances that skirts the line between the comedy and the tragedy. The score often emphasizes the irrationality of both Soviet hypocrisy and the day-to-day realities of life in a gulag.

At times the humor almost undermines the historical tragedies on which the film is based. But there are also moments when we truly feel for Charlie and his plight. The tightrope Goorjian walks between humor and heartache emphasizes his skills as both an actor and a director. The supporting cast, particularly Hovik Keuchkerian, helps the film strike the right balance.

There is also genuine feeling for Armenia and its people peppered throughout the film. Despite Charlie’s treatment at the hands of the Soviets, he can’t ignore the overwhelming pull he feels for the country of his origin.

At its heart, Amerikatsi requires the audience believe in the power of both human connection and hope. To weary the audience with too much focus on the tragedy of life while ignoring the joy would hamper the film’s message.

In the end, Goorjian delivers a heartfelt love letter to Armenia and the resilience of its people. 

Up All Night

Thirst

by Rachel Willis

Part horror, part environmental allegory, Eric Owen’s film Thirst is a disappointing foray into a world of fear and paranoia.

Early in the film, we’re introduced to Jose (Brian Villalobos) and Lucy (Lori Kovacevich). Jose works for a high-powered law firm and struggles to show his commitment to the company, laboring long hours that result in sleepless nights. The crux of the film’s horror comes from Jose’s lack of sleep. Anyone with chronic insomnia might recognize some of the symptoms: increasing irritability, an inability to focus, and a bone-crushing weariness that never abates.

As Jose’s insomnia continues night after night, his behavior becomes progressively erratic. Lucy is forced to consider a possibility from Jose’s past, adding another layer of tension to the horror. The inability to sleep, the mood swings, and the hallucinations lead her down a dark path. However, the reality is darker than even Lucy can guess.

The film’s first two acts manage to ratchet the tension up slowly, but progressively. As additional characters make their way into the film – particularly Jose’s sister, Vicky (Federica Estaba Rangel) – we get a glimpse of others suffering from behavior like Jose’s.

The story’s weakest moments come when we spend inordinate amounts of time with Vickey and her partner, Lisa. The deterioration of their relationship doesn’t fit with the rest of the film, nor does it add anything meaningful to the theme. Lisa is introduced merely to add a possible explanation for what we’re witnessing on screen, but her conspiracy theory rantings make her unreliable. That she might happen to be right occasionally does nothing to validate her as a trustworthy source.

The film’s final act takes a sharp turn. In some ways, it works. It explains a lot of what preceded it. On the other hand, the allegory isn’t effective, and the tonal shift is jarring. Neither element manages to derail the film entirely, but some of the answers to the questions raised in the beginning aren’t satisfying. In the end, Owen’s seems more interested in delivering a message than a wholly satisfying film.

Under Construction

The Fallen Bridge

by Rachel Willis

The first images in director Yu Li’s latest film, The Fallen Bridge, are of a bridge collapsing on CCTV. It’s a compelling introduction to the unknown that lays at the film’s center.

The bridge collapse is the start of a deeper mystery – one of murder and corruption. After a skeleton is found inside one of the fallen bridge’s supports, Xiaoyu (Sichun Ma) is drawn home from college. She wants to know who murdered her father.

Xiaoyu’s main support comes not from her godfather and friend to her father, but a mysterious man, Meng Chao (Karry Wang), who claims to know what happened.

It’s not too hard to figure out what happened, and the film doesn’t keep you guessing. Without a mystery, there is no tension. We watch Xiaoyu talk to people who knew her father. All of them tell her who is responsible, but as Xiaoyu has no evidence, she keeps searching.

The film’s strongest element is Sichun Ma, but even she can’t seem to muster the outrage or grief necessary to allow the audience to connect or care about her character’s journey. Chao feels like a sidekick with very little to flesh out. He carries his own sins, but we’re only told what happened. We’re never allowed to see how his crimes weigh on him, or how helping Xiaoyu redeems him (or why he continues to help her at all).

Detectives wander in and out of the story; they slowly piece together the tale that the audience already knows, making each of their discoveries ring hollow. While Xiaoyu has all the cards in her hand, the detectives are left to bumble after leads. There’s a sense that the situation might have been resolved in a more compelling way if we weren’t left to wonder why Xiaoyu acts the way she does.

As the film reaches its climax, the focus seems to shift from Xiaoyu to Chao, a truly odd decision. We don’t get the satisfaction of seeing Xiaoyu right wrongs of the past or get her revenge on those responsible. Instead, Chao takes over, a stunning disappointment in a film already floundering to find its way.

There is a sensitivity to Xiaoyu and Chao’s relationship that would have strengthened the film had it been further explored. The lack of mystery might have been less bothersome had the two main characters been allowed to explore the grief that binds them. Unfortunately, what could have been an interesting character study is instead a lifeless mystery.

Back to the Future

Lola

by Rachel Willis

Two sisters invent and control a time machine in director Andrew Legge’s historical sci-fi drama, Lola.

In 1941, Thom (Emma Appleon) and Martha (Stefanie Martini) can access broadcasts from the future with their device, Lola. They discover David Bowie, Bob Dylan, and other great musicians from the future. However, they also realize they can send precise warnings to fellow Britains about impending German air raids. What they do saves lives.

Though their efforts begin with mere warnings, the sisters start to reshape the future with the help of a British soldier who verifies the authenticity of each German broadcast. When Thom decides to take matters into her own hands, offering more than warnings, she loses Britain the U.S.’s support in the war effort. And that’s just the first mistake.

As with any movie about time travel, changes in the present affect not just the immediate future, but the far distant future, as well.

A 78-minute story leaves little time to make the point that some things are best left alone, but still Lola does a lot of meandering. The tension from decisions made is never allowed to build.

There is also the strange idea behind the film’s surface message that it’s best not to act, as any action you take can have unknown repercussions on the future. I’m not sure this is what the filmmaker intended to convey, but this is what comes across.

A large portion of the film comprises stock footage and montages depicting how the sisters change the war effort. It becomes tedious, making the film’s run time feel much longer than it is.

There is also the dubious notion of a found footage film that takes place in 1941. Martha’s camera is explained (it also conveniently captures sound), but several other cameras appear in places where it doesn’t make sense. You’re left wondering who exactly is behind the camera.

While Lola has a one or two stand out moments (invented superstar Reginald Watson, for example), the overall output is a mess. The theme of leaving the present unaltered based on what one knows of the future has been explored before. Lola offers nothing new save a questionable perspective on taking any action at all.

Movie Magic

Once Upon a Time in Uganda

by Rachel Willis

Cathryne Czubek’s film Once Upon a Time in Uganda might be the most fun you’ll have watching a documentary.

Centering her film around Ugandan filmmaker Isaac Nabwana (styling himself as Nabwana IGG), Czubek has fun bringing Isaac’s world to life for her audience.

Thrown into the mix is Alan Hofmanis, a New Yorker who became so enamored with Isaac’s work that he abandoned his life in New York (primarily a cat he left with his mom) and moved to Uganda.

The two struck up a partnership of sorts. Alan focuses on bringing international attention to Isaac’s films. Isaac focuses on the Ugandan side of the equation.

Once Upon a Time in Uganda’s only flaw is that it’s not sure where to fit Alan into the narrative. Though his role in Isaac’s success can’t be ignored, he has an overblown view of himself regarding Isaac’s creative process. The documentary places too much weight on Alan when this should be almost entirely Isaac’s story.

And what a story it is. A brick maker in Wakaliga, Kampala (restyled Wakaliwood by Isaac), Isaac’s dream is making action movies. The times we see Isaac behind the camera or at his computer in his living room working on special effects are a joy. His films are a community event. With a budget of $85 to $200, everyone, from the actors to the crew, volunteers to create action movies that are laugh-out-loud funny.

Also due to the low budget, the team works with what they have, welding prop guns and camera tracking arms whenever they need them. It’s a process unlike anything you’d see on a U.S. movie set, but the camaraderie of Isaac’s crew is what makes watching the documentary such a delight. It’s all hands on deck, and everyone is having a good time.

That’s not to say Isaac doesn’t have problems. Issues around money crop up from time to time. Even though it seems Isaac comes across some level of success, it isn’t monetary success. When he accepts a TV deal to create a series for Uganda’s largest media empire, it leads to strife with not only his crew, but with Alan as well.

But you will find yourself rooting for Isaac the entire time. Even if low-budget action movies aren’t your thing, Isaac’s enthusiasm for movie making is palpable. It makes Czubek’s documentary stand as one of the finest send ups to the joy that is movie making.