Tag Archives: Tori Hanes

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The Unusual Suspects

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The Four Samosas

by Tori Hanes

A stew of early aughts comedies, Wes Anderson stylistic aspirations, and a refreshingly silly story, Four Samosas by director Ravi Kapoor is 80 minutes of numbing comfort. Following a rag-tag team of perpetual underachievers through a hilariously low-stakes heist, the film does little to garner a reaction – a trait that serves the goofy atmosphere well, but fails to earn genuine interest. 

Perhaps the most delightful aspect of Four Samosas is its incredibly linear plot. There is something palpably refreshing about allowing a film to happen to you as opposed dedicating intense brain power to it. There are no opinions to be formed, no intellectual thoughts to force… just relaxing silliness unfolding easily and inconsequentially. In a climate of 2.5-hour movie minimums, sometimes an 80-minute flick sprinkled with Bollywood-inspired gags is a welcome change. 

Of course, pure enjoyability does come at a narrative cost. The story is largely uncompelling, often sacrificing potential moments of emotional catharsis for gags. This comes back to bite in the third act, where the film attempts to cash in on a handful of undercooked themes. For example, protagonist Vinny (Venk Potula) has a briefly explored strained relationship with his newly religious father. Their introductory scene leans more humorous than expository, making their eventual dramatic blowout feel awkwardly unearned. If the film had dedicated more time to being genuine, the resulting payoffs would be more robust. Instead, anything past skin-level emotion becomes Four Samosas’s weakest point.

It’s a shame Vinny’s emotions aren’t explored further, as Potula shows a capable range of expression. His performance shines brightest when compared to his other, more obviously layman co-stars. While Potula delivers a largely authentic, strong character, the supporting cast are more over-the-top, endearing amateurs. This feels like the result of mismatched talent levels and directing concentration.

Though Four Samosas has all the charm and little of the wit of its retro inspirations, the 80-minute pure comedy is a refreshingly light treat for audience palates.

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System Failure

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You Resemble Me

by Tori Hanes

How easy it is to cast mindless blame, right? How thoughtless an act to blindly hate those constructed to be our villains. The easiness of hate comes from the idea of the “other” – an unknown enemy, distant and different. The metaphorical peeling of the onion, cathartic and harrowing, is how first-time director/co-writer Dina Amer makes the “other” the protagonist of You Resemble Me.

You Resemble Me expedites this connection to the “other”, forcing bitter tears to stream down unready cheeks. Following alleged suicide bomber (later found to be homicide victim) Hasna Ait Boulachen through her twisted and harrowing past, Amer examines the universal pipeline from neglect to radicalism. 

Amer strengthens this story with overarching themes. Whether it be a victim of abuse’s search for family, neglect manifesting into harm, or yearnings for connection, there is a strong and present backbone throughout Hasna’s tragic tale.

These ideas act as an anchor for Hasna’s orbit, and for the cast of performers. Young Hasna (Lorenza Grimaudo) embodies the fitful spirit being darkened by trauma, while adult Hasna (Mouna Soualem) shows mature yearnings. 

Each performance surrounding the two leads molds itself to represent one of Amer’s themes. While this creates a spotlight around Hasna as a character, it dims the other actors – a tragedy of sorts, as the actors’ potential screams for opportunity.

While the delve into trauma is successful at humanizing, the pipeline effect Amer relies on leaves little room for nuance. This creates a tunnel vision rehashing of an incredibly complex existence, boiling down to its more traumatic cause-and-effect moments.

The discomfort in becoming what you’ve been bred to fear is the soul of You Resemble Me. Audiences who choose to engage will unwittingly participate in slicing the onion, with tears to show for it.

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No Sleep Til Reddit

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The Sleep Experiment

by Tori Hanes

Ah, to relive the youthful, sleepless nights of scrolling mindlessly through Reddit, Creepypasta, hell- even Wikipedia, desperate for a fresh scare. And which tale is more infamous among those fabled threads than the Russian Sleep Experiment? A story so desperate to pass as real to susceptible pre-teens- now, it’s one of the most revered spooks by internet-savvy horror lovers.

Director John Farrelly’s The Sleep Experiment takes vast inspiration from the Russian Sleep Experiment, even down to the use of scientifically enhanced gas to keep the participants awake for 30 consecutive days. Unfortunately, The Sleep Experiment ultimately inherits about as much cinematic charm as its internet forum predecessor. 

The story awkwardly jilts from point A to B, relying on an uneven present-day police interrogation to clumsily place the narrative into the actual storyline. This left-footed rehashing of the experiment steals time away from what both fans of the Creepypasta original and audiences of the film want: disturbing images inside a sleep-deprived human mind.

However, the moments inside the experiment ultimately fall flatly down predictable paths. Some characters lose their minds, others die – none are interesting. It’s impossible to say if the film would have reaped the benefits from investing its time differently, but ultimately, the audience is left starving for more unnerving content.

The performances are, unfortunately, a particularly sore spot. They are largely stilted and awkward. Actors often have difficulty connecting the characters to the overarching – and loose – themes.

The performers sometimes seem to disagree with their dialog – their connection to it is almost nonsensical. A particularly grating example is one character’s long-winded monologue highlighting the joys of psychopathy. At a point, the hyperdramatic rhythm of the words becomes almost comical before sharply turning into confusing irritation.

Ultimately, if you want a similar scare with more room for imagination, do as we did in the good ol’ days. Log onto your Reddit app after your parents have gone to bed and scroll r/horror until your eyes bleed.

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Overstayed Welcome

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The Guest Room

by Tori Hanes

Moody, eerie, and deftly grounded with stellar performances, The Guest Room by director Stefano Lodovichi delights in uneasy chaos. Following the arrival of a gregariously unusual guest (Guido Caprino), divorced Stella (Camilla Filippi) and her estranged spouse Sandro (Edoardo Pesce) balance the visit with their familial issues. 

The narrative, design, and dialogue take an orbital back seat to the shining star of the three lead actors. Caprino plays his all-encompassingly chilling and charming stranger with incredible poise. Filippi rips sympathy and disgust from audiences’ chests. Meanwhile, Pesce embodies the complexities of estrangement. Lodovichi’s talent at drawing a fully realized performance from his actors within their first moments on screen is delightfully wrenching.

Often, even for the most supposedly refined film viewers amongst us, foreign films can leave a gap in performance recognition for American audiences. The Guest Room does not allow for that gap. The marriage between written word and actors is among the most powerful foreign film experiences a viewer can have.

The film’s primary issue comes from its obvious change of tonal heart. It does well to establish itself quickly and efficiently as a grounded, eerily dark drama. Its initial turn into horror remains grounded. As the plot builds, a need for realistic reasoning behind the inevitable twist reaches a fever pitch. It’s here we take a sharp turn into a more fantastical, almost supernatural element, leaving audiences reeling from genre whiplash. This, unfortunately, muddies the ever-important twist and resolution.

Overall, The Guest Room’s mind-bending performances and uneasy plot make for a whirling 86 minutes. If audiences can swallow the motion sickness set on by genre-defying twists, they will be strapped in for a film they won’t soon forget.

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Sisyphean Strain

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Hinterland

by Tori Hanes

The fresh, filthy face of a collapsed Austro-Hungarian Empire lays the backdrop of this twisting thriller from seasoned director Stefan Ruzowitzky. Weaving through the Tim Burton-esque sets with recently released POW Peter (Murathan Muslu), we experience the growing pains of the newborn society through Peter’s archaic eyes. While acclimating to a new existence in an unknown home, Peter must solve a string of serial murders closely related to him.

The immediate allure of this film is its artistic and fantastical surroundings. Ruzowitzky and cinematographer Benedict Neuenfels dive into the eerie pales and grays of a war-torn country, careful to showcase the pains of progress. While the crumbled empire charges ahead with blinders glued to its eyes, the history of the city remains looming – a visual concept the director and cinematographer ensure is consistently highlighted. 

The vision conjures a particularly moody 1980/1990’s Tim Burton. That comparison looms as evidently as the misshapen buildings, occasionally confusing the dark narrative in the semi-silly surroundings. Alas, though, this is perhaps an overly American way of viewing Ruzowitzky’s artistic choice.

The heightened demand of concentration on aesthetics masks some left-footed storytelling. Hinterland attempts to tackle a mountain of content: a rebirth of a nation, a traumatized POW’s place in his new society, a string of murders, romance, heartbreak – the list goes on. 

While the film never fully falls, there are stumbles and skips due to this oversized load. Eventually, Hinterland transfers the burden to the audience, who must decide if their concentration will go to the scenery, the intense performances, or the weaving story. You may feel your knees buckle and legs shake under the heap.

This does not equate to unpleasant viewing. If you’re willing to carry the pile, like Sisyphus, you may find enjoyment in the strain. 

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Which Witch

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Two Witches

by Tori Hanes

From first-time feature director Pierre Tsigaridis, Two Witches follows the familial inheritance of witch powers from grandmother to granddaughter, sparing no gory detail while examining the pair’s reign of terror. From eating babies to sexual satanism, Two Witches straps horror fans in and puts a cement block on the gas.

The first of two chapters starts without a bang- in fact, it fully embraces the mundane horror tropes of the past: haunted, creepy entity only visible to the hauntee, overly skeptical boyfriend, goofy nonbeliever friends. It dutifully, albeit spookily, hits the key beats of any witchy tale. If the film had stayed on this trajectory, the review would likely end here. 

Thankfully, Tsigaridis veered off course. The second chapter highlights the newly christened witch granddaughter (Rebekah Kennedy) and spins into a freshly horrifying tale, chalk to the brim with overt and delicious camp. Whether the film took the first chapter to find its footing or whether the sharp turn into camp was purposeful by Tsigaridis is unclear, but one thing is obvious: the first and second chapter feel almost like entirely different films.

Is the presence of two tonally different chapters in one movie jarring? Yes, a bit. Is it the best choice to create a continuous flowing narrative and feel? No, probably not. Is it interesting and largely unseen in the horror genre? Definitely. 

A struggle unique to this dramatic shift of tone is performance evaluation. Due to their largely different styles, holding performances to a consistent level is nearly impossible. While pregnant Sarah (Belle Adams) of the first chapter plays the disturbed victim well, witch Masha (Kennedy) delivers her newfound inheritance with intriguing camp in the second chapter. The two performances could not feel further from each other, though they both hold the title of protagonist for their respective stories. This confusion in differing performances inherently elicits an opinion of uncertainty from audiences. Unfortunately, ambivalence and uncertainty are perhaps the worst reactions a film’s protagonists could garner. 

For the most adrenaline-seeking among us, Two Witches has enough genuine scares to smooth over the narrative bumps. For the rest, the winding story may lead you off course. If audiences can embrace the uniqueness of the camp, however, it may be a welcomed detour.

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Writer’s Horror

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Blank

by Tori Hanes

Blank, the freshman feature from director Natalie Kennedy, follows successful author Claire Rivers (Rachel Shelley) as she struggles through a nearly debilitating spout of writer’s block. More desperate to appease her publishers than unlock her unwritten story, Claire enrolls in an AI-controlled retreat.

Here, Claire’s every concern that is not creatively driven is managed by her two AI helpers, Henry (Wayne Brady) and Rita (Heida Reed). After a system failure leaves her assistants less than primed to assist, Claire’s writer’s block turns from a professional detriment to a nearly fatal flaw. 

The film is immediately and consistently enthralling from a visual perspective. Kennedy and cinematographer James Oldham are determined to not fall into the dull, gray color pallets plaguing the 2010s/2020’s horror and thriller genre. While their palettes reflect the somber and intensive mood, they stay original and fresh – never allowing the eye to grow weary with dreaded slate monotony. 

Even when the script begins to fail the visuals remain interesting, sometimes dragging the narrative by the arm to keep up with audience expectations. This tactic succeeds. Even if you rack your brains post-film to recall the midsection of the narrative, the mood created by these stunning visuals sticks out. 

The story has a tendency to stumble over its ambition. Starting off with a solid swing, Blank engrosses with its interesting and eerie world right off the bat.

However, the meat of Stephen Herman’s script relies less on story than on thriller tropes: repetition, unsettling visuals, eerie background narrative. That is not to say Blank ceases to enthrall. Instead, the interest shifts to a confused unease, only to be resolved at the dramatic and anxiety-inducing climax.

Kennedy gets hung up on some clunky metaphors. Rita, Claire’s personal AI assistant, takes on a traditional 1950s housewife style. Her compliance and eventual resolution mirror obvious calls for morality in human-created intelligence. While it makes sense for Kennedy to approach this ethical dilemma, the lack of subtlety tarnishes the message. 

As most writers can attest, a bad case of writer’s block can leave you begging for an escape. Blank creatively and (most important) intriguingly shows why reopening your laptop and continuing your story may be the best choice.

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Less Fun than a Barrel of Monkeys

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Gigi & Nate

by Tori Hanes

Gigi & Nate follows the story of an unlikely bond between recent quadriplegic Nate (Charlie Rowe) and his service monkey.

Director Nick Hamm’s film tracks the pair’s difficulties due to Nate’s disability and society’s stigmas around their pairing. Running at a generous 1 hour and 54 minutes, the bond between man and primate is thoroughly, though not particularly well, examined. 

Gigi and Nate seems to miss the backbone of what makes this unique story interesting. Threaded by a plot riddled with holes, a strong emotional ethos has no channel through which to flow. Instead, Hamm and writer David Hudgins string together uneven attempts to create a compelling narrative. These attempts hit the beats of any PG, feel-good, family-friendly story, while remaining seemingly uninterested in exploring any nuance.

The story initially paces along logically. It takes a devastating blow, however, when concentration on the human-animal connection is severed and focus turns to a bizarre examination of society’s skepticism toward the human/primate pairing. With this, whatever fuel burning the emotional fire behind the story runs dry. 

Performances, including Rowe’s, struggle to rise above surface level. Nate’s lack of metamorphosis is staggering. We see the glimmer of change directly following his accident, but are ultimately disappointed in Nate’s quick return to a sunny-despite-the-circumstances disposition. The filmmakers never allow the audience inside the full depths of Nate’s psyche, so no catharsis can be earned. 

This lack of depth creates real problems. Narrative solutions feel unearned. Outlandish antagonists are clumsily formed, their stories undeservingly resolved. A potentially intriguing tale from an underrepresented perspective is lost to a cop-out of a resolution.

Gigi & Nate is especially disappointing because the film —though it takes significant creative freedom— is inspired by the true story of quadriplegic Ned Sullivan. While the filmmakers’ hearts were undoubtedly in the right place, their sincerity doesn’t justify a film that does little work to amplify the voices of the people it’s portraying. 

If you’re just looking for your cuteness dosage, Gigi (played by Capuchin, Allie) certainly has her moments, but you’re better off skipping this film and picking up Marley and Me.

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Slow Drawl

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The Legend of Molly Johnson

by Tori Hanes

With a story almost as rugged and unforgiving as its terrain, The Legend of Molly Johnson unflinchingly saddles up to the hardship of the Australian bush. Following weathered mother and wife Molly Johnson (Leah Purcell, who also directs) awaiting the return of her Drover husband, the film examines the uncomfortable concoction of bush people with budding British laws in the foreground of generational racism and misogyny. The examination of these subjects is almost as unflinching as Molly Johnson’s resolve.

Pacing plagues the film immediately. While a story taking time to ignite isn’t inherently uninteresting, the lack of compelling character work or world-building in its absence is. Once the plot begins to move, the strained and semi-distant relationship to the characters makes the tragedies that unfold harder to embody. Eventually, the intensity of the plot connects audience and character, making the climax an emotionally engulfing moment. But the overarching lack of cohesion creates a massive, immediate block between the audience and the film.

As a filmmaker, Purcell stares down the barrel of racism, misogyny, and abuse, keenly interested in dissecting the interweaving of the three. The film flips the examination of the hardships, primarily concentrating on the view from Molly’s perspective, but also showcasing runaway Aboriginal prisoner Yadaka (Rob Collins) and the colonizing officer Sergeant Klintoff (Sam Reid) to create a full scope of range. The creation is graphic, gritty, raw, and feels authentically human.

The breathtaking visuals contribute to an intensive mood. Cinematographer Mark Wareham emphasizes the grit and is sly to reveal the beauty of the surroundings. When the beauty is shown, Purcell and Wareham are careful about letting it take control. While nature is stunning, the people inhabiting it often taint its grace – an aspect that is never forgotten.

Once The Legend of Molly Johnson finds its footing, a gut-wrenching creation is born. The question is whether audiences will comply with the self-indulgent start long enough to get there. 

The Screening Room

Screening Room: Thor: Love & Thunder, The Sea Beast, Apples, Dreaming Walls & More

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Thor: Love and Thunder, The Sea Beast, Apples, Dreaming Walls, Minamata, On the Third Day, The Summoned