Tag Archives: Zlatko Buric

What’s All the Racquet?

Bloody Tennis

by Hope Madden

German filmmaker Nikias Chryssos does not hide his influences. After witnessing the brutal slaying of a beautiful girl, we watch a young American student being driven to an exotic if spooky European academy where she will be trained among the elite in her field.

Bloody Tennis is Suspiria for athletes. Sophie (Sandra Guldberg Kampp) is the athlete newly arrived at the Mary Tyrone Tennis Academy. She’s welcomed, in a way, by Ms. Tyrone (Elina Löwensohn, Nadja) herself. It isn’t a warm welcome.

“I’m your daddy now.”

The class is small: six players (minutes the girl we watched die in the opening moments, whose absence makes room for Sophie). Aside from Ms. Tyrone, head mistress and team doctor, there’s one coach (Zlatko Buric) and one handyman/chauffeur/cook/weirdo (Vincent Romeo).

Though the title suggests a campy comedy, the dark, creepy humor that runs through Bloody Tennis is anything but camp. And while his underlying structure is reminiscent of Suspiria, Chryssos leans just as heavily toward slasher. (Also an Italian genre, owing to Mario Bava’s 1971 originator, A Bay of Blood).  

That’s not to suggest the film is somehow untrue to its title. There’s a lot of blood (some of it pretty inspired) and a lot of tennis.

Though Guldberg Kampp is not entirely convincing as an American (she’s Danish), her performance otherwise compellingly anchors the film. Sophie is curious and observant, her personality mainly interior. Guldberg Kampp navigates Sophie’s arc with a quietly animalistic nature that suits the film and the character.

The rest of the athletes are offered little opportunity to really craft characters, but each is solid. Löwensohn’s gleefully committed and Romeo is unsettlingly odd.

The film’s themes are as unhidden as its influences. Training to be an elite athlete is a soul and body ruining exercise, as punishing as it is bloodthirsty. There is perhaps less depth and less mystery to Bloody Tennis than it needed to be genuinely memorable, but it’s an intriguing, gory reminder that women’s sports is where it’s at.

Is That What I Smell?

Teen Spirit

by Hope Madden

Three years ago, Elle Fanning starred in The Neon Demon, Nicolas Winding Refn’s take on the soul devouring business of show. She played an innocent hoping her natural talent would be enough to carry her far away from her one-horse town.

It’s a threadbare storyline and Refn couldn’t find the same inspiration that drove his earlier efforts Drive and Bronson to such dizzying heights. And yet, for its faults, The Neon Demon is a bold, imaginative and bracingly fresh take on a familiar song.

Writer/director Max Minghella is no Nicolas Winding Refn.

Minghella’s Teen Spirit sees Fanning as Violent, raw singing talent wasting away on the Isle of Wight. When an American Idol-style singing competition hosts auditions on the island, Violet sees her opportunity.

Awash in daddy issues, blatantly judgmental of showmanship (God forbid a girl wear makeup or wigs) and too dependent on Fanning’s mediocre voice, Minghella’s look at the dark side of the entertainment industry can’t find its groove.

Teen Spirit is not a complete misstep. Fanning’s acting is characteristically spot on. Rather than casting Violet as the bashful townie, Fanning presents a sullen, unlikeable character whose aloneness has as much to do with her own adolescent misanthropy as anything.

Equally appealing in his unappealing way is Zlatko Buric playing Vlad, the unsightly mess of a drunk that an underaged Violet drafts into posing as her guardian so she can audition.

The crusty sympathy the two form creates a welcome change to the ordinary—which is what the rest of Teen Spirit bathes in. Catty divas, soulless and posh record execs, temptation, disloyalty, pop songs—all of it’s here in some neutered form or other.

Teen Spirit not only plays like a toothless version of Neon Demon, it also bears an eerie resemblance to Leap, the 2016 animated adventure in which Fanning plays an orphan who longs to dance in the Paris ballet.

She’s also an alien turned punk rocker—with far more interesting performance sequences—in John Cameron Mitchell’s How to Talk to Girls at Parties from 2016.

No wonder Teen Spirit feels so derivative. You haven’t just seen this movie before, you’ve seen Elle Fanning in this movie before.