Tag Archives: thrillers

Nightmares Film Festival

The Bloodsucker Proxy

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LandLord

Screens Saturday, October 18 at 2pm

by George Wolf

Remember the simple genius of 30 Days of Night? Vampires were roaming Alaska, in a town with no sunlight for a month! We all wondered why we didn’t think of that.

LandLord is built on a similarly clever foundation. Vampires have to be invited in, right?

Not if they own the property.

Go on.

Writer/director Remington Smith could have steered that premise toward a basic bite-fest, and it might have been good fun. But here he has something more ambitious in mind, with a patient, understated approach that makes sure the wounds go a little bit deeper.

A Black Bounty Hunter (a terrific Adama Abramson) cuts quite a figure as she travels alone, on foot and dealing only in cash. The bills she throws at the manager of a rundown apartment complex get her some keys with no questions asked, and plenty of time to surveil a man who carries a valuable briefcase.

But a chance meeting with a bullied youngster named Alex (Cohen Cooper) slowly draws the Bounty Hunter away from her mark, and toward Alex’s outrageous claims about a white vampire stalking the housing community.

The apartment setting coupled with the teenage perspective calls to mind 2016’s excellent The Transfiguration, while the prevailing subtext of a disposable population echoes Jorge Michael Grau’s masterful We Are What We Are. Still, Smith is able to make sure his own voice his heard.

LandLord is a story of survival. Getting out alive is going to take wits, courage, and a good friend watching your back. You’ve just got to know who the bloodsuckers are.

And some of them might even be vampires.

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Feels Like Injustice

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The Knife

by George Wolf

Suspicion, fear, perception and manipulation all converge in The Knife, a briskly-paced thriller that examines action and consequence as it picks at the scabs of modern anxieties.

This is the feature debut as a director and co-writer (with Mark Duplass) for Nnamdi Asomugha, a former NFL star who began a second career in film shortly before his playing career ended in 2013. Asomugha also stars as Chris, a construction worker whose night – and maybe life – is quickly unraveling.

After some very late night flirting that gives us a warm and effective introduction to the characters, Chris and his wife Alex (Aja Naomi King) decide they’re just too damn tired for any sexy time. They’ve got three young kids in the house, and that morning alarm is coming way too soon.

But sleep has to wait thanks to some bumps in the night. Chris gets up to investigate, and finds a strange, haggard woman in his kitchen. By the time Alex arrives for backup, the old woman is unconscious on the floor with a knife nearby, and Chris doesn’t remember what happened.

Alex is plenty wary of inviting cops into the situation, but things could get worse if they don’t. So their “bad” neighborhood gets lit up with cruisers, and Detective Carlsen (Oscar winner Melissa Leo) arrives to ask some increasingly difficult questions.

There are issues raised about memory, medications in the house and whether or not that knife may have been tampered with. Asomugha and Duplass make sure these can seem justified, just as much as the interrogations feel escalated by assumption and profiling.

With a run time of barely 80 minutes, the most glaring weakness in The Knife is its lack of investment in a more satisfying payoff. The tension is relatable and relevant, with complexities of truth-gathering added organically until a nice little pot of motivational stew is boiling. It’s enough to make you eager for a memorable, world weary punch that never gets thrown.

Though it feels unfinished, Asomugha’s step up the film ladder is taut, self-contained and promising. The Knife may ultimately offer more questions than answers, but the conversations it could start are well worth having.

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Original Gangster

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The G

by Hope Madden

Get to know Dale Dickey. There is nobody else like her in film or TV, and what she brings to a role is grit and authenticity that can be heartbreaking or frightening. In the case of filmmaker Karl R. Hearne’s The G, it’s a bit of both.

Dickey plays Ann, known to her step-granddaughter Emma (Romane Denis, Slaxx) as The G. She smokes a lot, drinks vodka by the bottle, and has a tough time returning her invalid husband’s affection. Until a sketchy doctor tells a scheming judge the couple can’t care for themselves, and before either can change out of their PJs, their new custodian has them locked in a cheerless room with no access to the outside world.

It’s like I Care a Lot, J Blakeson’s 2020 thriller about the organized, legal business of preying on the elderly. Except The G takes place in a depressed small town where the stakes are lower and the lives considerably less glamorous. But the fantasy is still the same.

Because The G has connections and skills her new facility leadership doesn’t expect.

Dickey is, characteristically, understated, gravely perfection as the wrong granny to cross, but Hearne is not in this for comedy. This is no Thelma. The G mines a horrifying reality of disposable people for indie thrills without abandoning the tragedy at the film’s center.

A plucky Denis and the balance of the supporting cast populates this bleak town with low-rent hoods, smalltown gangsters, sleazy opportunists, and cowards. Hearne complicates the slow boiler without losing the threads or the sense of realism.

There are one or two lapses in logic, but at least as many welcome surprises. The G boasts a tight script and a director who knows how to showcase a lead. And Dickey takes advantage, from the drunken joy of Ann’s face bathed in the artificial light of a bulb she managed to change, to her pitiless growl, “He might last a day out here. Maybe less.”

Dickey’s a treasure, and one filmmakers are finally, truly recognizing. Her finest moment might have been Max Walker-Silverman’s lyrical A Love Song, but Dale Dickey delivers no matter the role.

Outtakes

Mommy Can You Hear Me?

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Echo Valley

by George Wolf

The barn roof at the Echo Valley horse ranch is bad. Like $9,000 bad. And when Kate (Julianne Moore) makes the trip to her ex-husband Richard’s (Kyle MacLachlan) office for some financial help, we get some nicely organic character development.

In those few important minutes, director Michael Pearce and writer Brad Ingelsby let us know Kate and Richard’s daughter Claire may have some serious issues, and that Kate may be enabling her.

From there, we can guess that Claire (Sydney Sweeney) will be showing up soon.

She does, and says she’s clean. She just needs for Mom to buy her another new phone while she breaks away from her boyfriend Ryan (Edmund Donovan). But of course Ryan shows up, followed by their dealer Jackie (Domhnall Gleeson – a nicely subtle brand of menacing), and it isn’t long before a frantic Claire comes home wearing someone else’s blood.

The somewhat pulpy, kinda noir-ish pieces aren’t exactly new, but Pearce (Beast) and the terrific ensemble always find frayed edges that keep you invested. We’re set up to pull for the put-upon Kate, then continually given reasons to doubt that very support.

Does Kate’s aversion to tough love make her an easy mark? Maybe, but maybe Kate’s smarter than anyone expects. Especially Jackie.

Pearce keeps the pace sufficiently taut and supplies some hypnotic shots of a countryside that comes to play an important part in the mystery – as does modern tech. Instead of copping out with a 90s timestamp, Echo Valley leans into the texts and tracking. True, the resolve might not be water tight digitally, but the timeliness gives the tension some relatable urgency.

It’s also refreshing to find a streaming release that doesn’t continually cater to lapsed attention spans. From that opening meeting in Richard’s office, Echo Valley assumes you’re settled in for the ride, all the way through a rewarding deconstruction of events and a final shot that cements what the film was getting at all along.

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Fins to the Left, Fins to the Right

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Dangerous Animals

by George Wolf

When are they going to run out of ideas for new shark movies?

Well, not today.

Dangerous Animals – director Sean Byrne’s first film in a decade – rises above the glut of silly sharksploitation yarns by aggressively hunting an adventure thriller of abduction and survival.

Jai Courtney stuffs his own jaws full of scenery as Tucker, a bawdy and boisterous boat captain in Australia who takes tourists out for shark encounters. But Tucker is always on the lookout for those visitors who may be alone and not easily tracked. And when Tucker identifies his prey, he pounces, hooking them up to a harness and slowly feeding them to the sharks while he records it all on VHS.

Free vegemite with any blank VHS tape purchase!

But when Tucker abducts American surfer Zephyr (Hassie Harrison) on the beach one very early morning, he quickly realizes he’s hooked “a Marlin,” a real fighter. Tucker loves a fight, and Zephyr is going to give it to him.

Byrne (The Loved Ones, The Devil’s Candy) shows a pretty firm hand juggling the sharky business with other genres and influences. You’ll see clear nods to The Silence of the Lambs and Hounds of Love, and Byrne is able to draw some tense, terrifying moments out of fairly standard tropes and the obligatory nonsensical choices made by potential victims.

Nick Lepard’s script falters most by wedging in a potential love story between Zephyr and local dude Moses (Josh Heuston). The narrative need to have someone miss Zephyr when she’s gone is understandable, but the thread lands as forced, contrived, and a heavy weight that drags the film down.

Courtney has never been better. His Tucker is a hammy hoot, and Courtney leans into a Mad Aussie physicality that makes the heavy handed predator metaphors more entertaining. Harrison sells the defiant grit that makes Zephyr a worthy adversary, and the two trade blows in a power struggle that keeps you engaged on the way to a finale that you’ve already guessed.

Byrne makes sure the shark footage is occasionally thrilling and always competent. But he also finds plenty of ways to make this more than just another preposterous fin story, and Dangerous Animals is better for it.

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Voice of Experience

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Hurry Up Tomorrow

by George Wolf

After the chaotic mess that was The Idol, it would have been easy for Abel Tesfaye (aka The Weeknd) to craft Hurry Up Tomorrow as a safely commercial extension of his new album.

To his credit, he doesn’t, and having Trey Edward Shults as his director and co-writer is the first sign that Tresfaye is after something more challenging. He gets that something, though it often frustrates more than it satisfies.

Tesfaye plays himself as a troubled superstar on tour. The crowds are huge and adoring, but a phone message (voiced by Riley Keough) accuses Abel of being a horrible, self-absorbed person, and his personal demons are taking such a toll on his voice that a doctor prescribes immediate rest. Abel’s manager Lee (Barry Keoghan) shrugs it off, assuring the star he is “invincible.”

A backstage meeting with the mysterious Anima (Jenna Ortega) leads to a day of fun and some lifted spirits, but it soon becomes obvious her very dangerous past may repeat itself in Abel’s very immediate future.

Early on, the skilled Shults (Krisha, It Comes at Night, Waves) brings some Gaspar Noé immersion vibes, rolling out cascades of pulsing music and flashing lights, extended takes and minimal dialog. But as this finally gives way to a thriller narrative that has echoes of Misery, the self-awareness of Keough’s accusations can’t save the film from the weight of self indulgence.

Ortega and Keoghan bring their usual sparks, enough to highlight Tresfaye’s limited acting range – though he is in fine voice. But despite the film’s overall ambition, the themes here are too old and familiar. And though Hurry Up Tomorrow can be visually interesting, the story it tells is never compelling, and only The Weeknd superfans should be hurrying out to see it.

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Unwelcome Back

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The Surfer

by George Wolf

Have you seen Wake in Fright, the 1971 Australian nightmare with Donald Pleasence? How about The Swimmer from ’68, where Burt Lancaster’s delusions of greatness are slowly punctured by the reality of his past?

The Surfer will hit harder if you can appreciate how it blends the two for its own deranged tale, as Nicolas Cage takes full advantage of another chance to come unglued before our eyes.

Cage stars as the titular surfer, who has come back to Australia’s Luna Bay in hopes of buying his childhood home. He brings his son along to surprise him with the news, but quickly finds the locals most unwelcoming.

“Don’t live here, don’t surf here!”

The “Bay Boys” rule the beach, and their guru Scally (Julian McMahon) takes the surfer and son aside to give them one polite warning: best move along.

They oblige, but the surfer won’t give up his dream so easily. He returns solo and things quickly escalate with the Bay Boys until the surfer is bloody and barefoot, without money, phone, car, or friends.

The font of the opening credits sets the perfect retro vibe, and director Lorcan Finnegan (Vivarium) leans into it from there. The minimalistic score, wide frames and dramatic punch-ins cast a spell of 70s Ozploitation that makes a fine launching pad for Cage’s slide into lunacy.

Australian accent? You think Cage needs one to sell this quest for survival? He doesn’t, and writer Thomas Martin weaves his lack of dialect into the thread of wry humor that runs throughout the film. Like Wake in Fright, circumstances hold a stranger prisoner in a foreboding Australian town, where – like The Swimmer – the past comes calling.

The Surfer is often smart but can be less than subtle, with some “hey don’t miss this” camerawork – which, to be fair, aligns with the throwback feel – and a lesson about toxic masculinity that’s well-meaning but repetitive.

But there’s much to like here, starting with Cage. The surfer is the kind of role that’s in perfect sync with his legendary eccentricities. He’s a man on the verge for ninety minutes, and nearly all of those are too much fun to look away.

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Unstable for Days

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Locked

by George Wolf

The first English language remake (third overall) of the 2019 Argentinian thriller 4×4, Locked streamlines the vigilante festivities for a fairly generic teaming of one veteran trope and one new favorite.

Tech cautionary tales are all the rage, and thrillers have been car-centric back to at least Duel and Race With the Devil in the 70s. So, when the desperate Eddie (Bill Skarsgård) breaks into a luxury sedan, he quickly finds himself at the mercy of one vengeful Dr. William (Anthony Hopkins) and the latest in auto security gadgets.

Director David Yarovesky and screenwriter Michael Arlen Ross soften Eddie’s edges from the start. Yes, he’s a f*&kup, but he’s got a cute young daughter and really wants to do better for her, right?

William isn’t moved. He’s got his own agenda, and it starts with giving Eddie a painful tour around his pimped-out ride. Eddie’s locked into the steel reinforced frame, the car is soundproofed and polarized, the seats are equipped with tasers, the glass is bulletproof, the heat and AC can be pushed to lethal levels, all while William probes and taunts Eddie via a call on the in-dash display.

The conversations tell us much about William and Eddie, and a little too much about the film’s message of classism and wealth inequality. What’s worse, when William disconnects, and Eddie is free to explore the car for weaknesses, he conveniently talks to himself so we can be let in on his thought process.

Yarovesky (Brightburn) has some success making the single setting visually interesting, faring better with the action opportunities that come from William deciding the put the car in “drive” and enact some vehicular justice against any suspected criminals.

Skarsgård tries his best to give Eddie some needed depth, and Hopkins seems delighted to get cartoonishly villainous. But Locked can never develop the psychological engagement of 2013’s auto mystery Locke or the clever thrills of Trunk: Locked In from just two years ago.

And most surprisingly, it pulls punches from its own source material, settling for a surface level morality play without the shades of grey that almost always leave a more lasting impression.

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Spy vs. Spy

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Black Bag

by George Wolf

What is more diabolical: enacting a global plan for widespread destruction, or pursuing a selfish agenda in your relationship, ready to twist the knife precisely where it hurts your partner the most?

Black Bag has a satchel full of fun weighing the two options, as director Steven Soderbergh and a crackling ensemble contrast the power plays in both love connections and spy games.

Michael Fassbender and Cate Blanchett (already sounds good, right?) are downright delicious as Londoners George Woodhouse and Kathryn St. Jean, master spies and devoted spouses. He’s emotionless and tidy, an expert cook, and a dogged sleuth with a hatred of dishonesty. She’s cool, calculating and seductive, with a wry sense of humor, a prescription for anxiety meds and a sudden cloud of suspicion around her.

Could Kathryn really be the mole who has stolen a lethal malware program and is shopping it to Soviet extremists? And can George be trusted with the job of investigating his own wife? The agency director (Pierce Brosnan) doesn’t hold back his distaste for the predicament.

While hosting a dinner party for two other couples who also mix business and pleasure – Freddie (Tom Burke)/Clarissa (Marisa Abela, so good as Amy Winehouse in Back to Black) and James (Regé-Jean Page)/Zoe (Naomie Harris) – George spots the first clue that Kathyrn’s allegiances may be compromised.

So the game is on.

Veteran screenwriter David Koepp follows his minimalist winner Presence with a smart and twisty throwback drama, relying less on action and more on dialog and plot, often staying a step ahead of your questions about internal logic. There’s a good bit of dry British humor here, too, which these stellar performers dig into with understandable relish.

From the opening prologue – an extended take that winds through the cityscape with purpose – Soderbergh seems perfectly at home with this self-assured style . The aesthetic is lush and sometimes showy, but in a relaxed manner of somebody who knows his audience is going to appreciate it.

They should. Black Bag is an adult-centric drama that offers bona fide movie stars, glamour and romance, challenges, surprises and humor. And it gets it all done in 90 minutes. Throw in a fine meal beforehand, and you’ve got a damn fine date night that just might put you in a pretty friendly mood when you get home.

Don’t waste it.

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She Seems Nice

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Eileen

by George Wolf

You need an “easy on the eyes” vamp for your nourish thriller? Anne Hathaway’s on your short list, for sure.

Soft-spoken, sheltered waif with eyes that long for a new life? Get me Thomasin McKenzie!

The casting in Eileen may be no surprise, but there are big surprises in store. And the way the two leads slowly draw their characters toward a deadly intersection keeps William Oldroyd’s second feature engaging throughout.

McKenzie is the put-upon Eileen, who quietly spends her days fantasizing about sex and violence and stashing away all the money she makes doing secretarial work at a boys correction facility in early 1960s Massachusetts. Eileen is also the daughter of the town’s former police chief (Shea Whigham), currently a paranoid, drunk widower with a penchant for verbal abuse and gun waving.

Eileen’s world is rocked when the facility’s staff psychologist retires, and Rebecca (Anne Hathaway) shows up to replace her. Tall, Ivy League-schooled with a sarcastic wit and a smoldering sensuality, Rebecca stands out plenty in the little New England ‘burg.

They meet for a couple drinks at the local bar and hit the dance floor while Rebecca belittles the leering regulars. Eileen is transfixed.

So she jumps at the invitation to visit over the holiday break, where Rebecca (and screenwriter Luke Goebel, Causeway) have a big bomb to drop.

Adapted from Ottessa Mosfegh’s award-winning 2015 novel, the film is a slow boil that leans on mood and atmospherics to lull you, even as you feel the creep of dread.

Both Hathaway and McKenzie are perfection, consistently smoothing the bumps when Oldroyd (Lady Macbeth) seems a bit hesitant to fully embrace the story’s pulpy underbelly. He and Goebel also tweak the novel’s ending, leaving the resolution more open-ended and abstract.

Fans of the book may feel slighted, but Eileen lands on the big screen as its own slippery shape shifter, a simmering throwback with just enough thrills to satisfy.