This past summer, the “Let people enjoy things” guy had a tweet go viral when he decided Jordan Peele must be the greatest horror director of all time, after only three feature films. Peele himself dragged the guy while humbly acknowledging his own influences. Hyperbole aside, the sketch comedy star turned Oscar-winning filmmaker is on an extraordinary run right now. Following the critically adored "Get Out" and cleverer, scarier "Us," Peele brought the people "Nope." From its vague title to its mysterious marketing, the project was Peele's most beguiling picture yet. Finally sitting down to watch it, I tried to go in knowing as little as possible and was soundly impressed. While declaring him the "greatest horror director of all time" is hopelessly premature, "Nope" proves again that Peele's past successes are not flukes. He really knows what he's doing.
OJ Haywood and his sister Emerald Haywood inherit a historic horse ranch in California following the mysterious death of their father, whose familial roots in Hollywood go back to the very beginning of film. The ranch has fallen on hard times and OJ has turned to selling horses to Ricky "Jupe" Park, a former child star and owner of a near-by western amusement park. While OJ and Em debate what to do, he notices something strange in the skies above. It soon becomes apparent that a flying saucer – or something that looks like one – is camping out in an unmoving cloud overhead and has been abducting their horses. OJ recruits an electronic surveillance specialist and a grizzled Hollywood cinematographer to try and document the phenomenon, in hopes that this will bring them the funds needed to save the ranch. Soon, they'll uncover the horrifying truth of what exists above them.
Among "Nope's" most unsettling moments is a flashback to Jupe's childhood, when his chimpanzee costar on sitcom "Gordy's Home" brutally attacked the actors. (A scene likely inspired by the infamous Travis the Chimp incident.) Though clearly still haunted by this memory, Jupe is happy to capitalize on the incident's notoriety. He sells admissions to a secret "Gordy's Home" museum to die hard fans. Similarly, upon realizing there's unidentified aerial phenomenon happening over the ranch – which is responsible for the death of their father – OJ and Em immediately see it as a means to make money. They aren't doing this to be exploitative, merely because they have to survive. Unexpectedly, disposable popcorn movie "The Scorpion King" forms part of the backstory here, as OJ and Em's horse trainer dad worked on the film... In fall of 2001. "Nope" seems to center on a generation who have grown up in the shadow of constant tragedy, who are now forced to exploit their childhood trauma just to survive.
That "Nope" is partially a statement on spectacle is fitting. It's Peele's biggest budget movie yet, with a plum summer movie release date and clearly influenced by the films of Steven Spielberg. The film is doubtlessly a technical achievement, with gorgeous cinematography and a tension raising score. (Which is often assisted by some bold needle drops that twist innocuous faire like "Sunglasses at Night" and "Purple People Eater' into surprisingly creepy audio landscapes.) The film's most impressive spectacle is its creative reinvention of the flying saucer premise. The film slowly reveals the exact nature of its otherworldly threat, which is designed to dispel whatever preconceived notions you might have about the flying saucer premise. "Nope" subtly hints at the nature of its beasts all throughout its run time, with images of round, reflective objects – which even the prominent O in the title seems to recall – and an emphasis on eating, food, and predation. This doesn't demystify the threat but rather makes it more intriguing. The exact origins of the threat are still kept ambiguous, with some people extrapolating a religious or cryptozoological explanation. The nature of the thing, its relationship with color and the jellyfish-like way it transformed, has to make it among the most creatively engineered sci-fi threats in recent memory.
I'm prone to think of the seventies Satanic panic movie as primarily an American thing. The United States' puritanical roots has caused Devil hysteria to periodically recurred throughout our history, while uniquely American manipulators like LaVey or Manson have been happy to set off the powder keg again. Sorry, that's my narrow, U.S.-centric worldview showing. The truth is "The Exorcist" was a global phenomenon. Knock-offs appeared in places as far-flung as Turkey, India, or Brazil. Other devil movies hailed from all over Europe. In 1976, Greece – not a nation especially known for its horror movies – would throw its horned hat into the cloven-hooved ring. That's the year director Kostas Karagiannis would unleash "The Devil's Men." U.S. distributors would trim the film by three minutes to get a PG rating and released it as "Land of the Minotaur," a title that actually represents the story a little better.
A pair of archaeology students visits their friend, Irish Catholic priest Father Roche, at his monastery in the Greek countryside. Against his warnings, they go to investigate a near-by dig site. There, the duo runs afoul of a pagan cult who sacrifice them before a stone statue of their deity, the minotaur. Disturbed by the disappearance, Roche hires an American private investigator named Milo Kaye to investigate. The two men, alongside Milo's girlfriend Laurie, soon discover that the entire near-by town is under the sway of the minotaur. The cult's ringleader, a British expat named Baron Corofax, and Father Roche are soon in a fight over the souls of everyone near-by.
“Land of the Minotaur” isn't without its visual quirks. When the minotaur statue speaks to its followers, a gravelly, radio D.J. voice rumbles the lines. Director Karagiannis is fond of crash-zooms on people's eyes and faces. That technique is often used to punctuate drawn-out sequences, making them feel like violent intrusions. If this was the intended effect, it's an interesting one. Considering how stilted and oddly shot the rest of the movie is though, I'm betting it's just sloppily edited. Adding to this disorientating ambiance is a droning electronic score from Brian Eno. Yes, that Brian Eno. While the spacey, warbling music definitely adds to the movie's off-beat tone, it becomes monotonous quickly. I don't know what a music legend like Eno was doing, working on low-budget schlock like this. Considering how half-assed the score is, maybe he didn't know either.
The repetitive music only emphasizes that not much happens here. This is one of those horror movies were most of the runtime is made up of people walking from one location to the next. The story is thin, essentially a series of encounters before the hero and villain face off, and the presentation is flat. Cushing and Pleasence do their best to elevate lackluster material and there's occasionally a bizarre, surprising sight. Yet “The Devil's Men” is mostly a tedious experience. One more thing: The longer cut includes a title song, a grunting bit of devil funk. The composition is sung by a Paul Williams and IMDb seems to think it's that Paul Williams. The man who wrote “The Rainbow Connection” did not sing the line “You're tempting the skies with your devil thighs!” It's actually the Paul Williams from British prog-rock band Tempest. Am I going to have to make an IMDb Pro account just to fix this? [5/10]
The fifth episode of “Creepshow's” third season finds the series in an unusually ambitious mode. In “Time Out,” law student Tim inherits a wardrobe that belonged to his grandmother. He soon discovers that time passes slower outside the wardrobe then inside it. Tim uses this magical object to put in extra hours at work, which leads him to a successful life. Years later, after marrying his college sweetheart and fathering a son, he learns the gift comes with a terrible price. “The Thing in Oakwood's Past” follows news anchor Mac as he interviews Marnie, a town historian. On the eve of a historical anniversary, in which a time capsule will be opened, Marnie digs into Oakwood's disturbing history. Her and Mac attempt to stop a cycle, of the town disappearing off the map, from repeating itself.
“Time Out” has to rank among “Creepshow's” most thoughtful installments. It's a story without monsters or gore, feeling more “Twilight Zone” than “Tales from the Crypt.” It instead poses a question I think we've all grappled with: What if we could add a few hours to the day, to get some extra stuff done? I know I make that wish all the time. While the time-stopping wardrobe allows Tim to achieve his goals, the downside of such an invention – you wouldn't stop aging inside – is unavoidable. Ultimately, “Time Out” is asking the viewer how they measure success: By having leisure time to spend with your loved ones or by making money and advancing professionally? The weight of a capitalistic society that demands constant success and profits ends up pushing Tim to be his own undoing. It's a weighty, intriguing premise that is well executed. The old age make-up Matthew Barnes wears in the lead role is a little overdone, though his performance is good. The ending is easy to predict, though unsettling nevertheless. This definitely ranks among the show's best installments, if not its best.
“Chucky” is at the point where Jake, Devon, and Lexy are all aware of the killer doll stalking them. The melted Chucky doll is tossed out by Caroline/Lexy's mom. The trio track down the doll and seemingly destroy it for good. Caroline's dad get her an identical Good Guy Doll off the internet but it appears to be harmless. Of course, when no one was looking, Chucky used the soul-swapping abilities he gained in “Cult of Chucky” to simply leap into the new doll. I hope you saw that movie because this episode also catches us up with Tiffany, Chucky's equally murderous bride currently residing in Jennifer Tilly's body... And another part of Chucky's soul, inside the body of Nica Pierce, the protagonist of the last two movies.
I knew the direct-to-video “Chucky” sequels were well received but I was still surprised when a TV show continuation went into production. This episode reveals why. Jake, Devon and Lexy leap onto their bikes to rush through their suburban town, on a quest to stop a supernatural evil. Yes, this show is another member of the kids-on-bikes revival that “Stranger Things” kicked off. At the very least, “Chucky” has found a novel angle to explore a style that's quickly getting overexposed. The growing chemistry between Jake and Devon are nicely handled. When they hold hands or kiss for the first time, it's adorable. I never would've expected this, of all shows, to feature a heartfelt queer romance.
Bringing in some familiar faces, and letting the kids bounce off each other, keeps this episode fun... And it's a good thing, because those subplots continue to drag the show down. Hey, Junior's mom has terminal cancer! Who gives a shit! Lexy's mom, the town mayor, is revealing herself to be an abusive bitch who unironically says “thoughts and prayers.” Hoo-ray for obvious political commentary! It really seems like she's going to be the Murder of the Week. Instead, the school principal gets decapitated, while The Yeah Yeah Yeahs play. Obvious needle drop aside, at least it's a hell of a moment. I also like the scene where the melted Chucky doll looks in, longingly, at Caroline and the fresh Good Guys doll. Major “Toy Story 3” vibes. Anyway, this show is good when it gets out of its own way. [7/10]
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