Every time it happens, people wonder why. How can a person so young, with their whole lives in front of them and unlimited possibilities, kill themselves? And yet it happens, over and over again. Artists and filmmakers have long grappled with these questions. Japan, in particular, is a country with a complicated relationship with the idea of someone taking their own life. Samurai tradition wraps the act up in certain glorified terms. Modern societal pressures, notorious in a culture obsessed with perfection and responsibility, have led to a high suicide rate among the young and old. I'm not surprised that this cultural obsession produced a horror movie entirely centered on the idea. “Suicide Club” is the film that would bring Sion Sono fame and attention around the world and make him one of the most distinctive filmmakers of the wave of Japanese directors making a name for themselves in the new millennium.
On May 27th, 2001, fifty-four Japanese school girls leap off a subway platform and into the path of an oncoming train. Others suicides soon follow, young people especially taking their own lives in very public manners. The police – especially the three detectives on the case, Kuroda, Shibusawa, and Murata – are baffled. They receive anonymous tips from a computer hacker, linking the deaths to a strange website. Phone calls from a wheezing child provide cryptic clues. Lengths of human skin, stitched together from multiple sources, turn up at the crime scenes. As the cops try and figure out the source to this epidemic of suicide, a student named Mitsuko begins her own investigation.
Like many horror films that came out of Japan around this time, “Suicide Club” does not have a straight-forward plot. Its story follows multiple subplots all at once, few of them ever coming to any sort of traditional climax. The characters are kept vague, their personalities and backstories often only hinted at. As “Suicide Club” winds closer to its conclusion, a new question is raised for every one that is answered. This type of storytelling is liable to frustrate and annoy some viewers, especially as the origins of the film's threat is never totally defined. Yet, if you're willing to go along with “Suicide Club's” uneasy atmosphere and stream-of-consciousness plotting, you're likely to get a lot out of it.
One of the strangest things about “Suicide Club” is the role music plays in the movie. A pop group made of prepubescent girls called Dessert – as in something sweet and frothy – is heard all throughout the movie. Their upbeat, insanely catchy music fits right in with any J-Pop bands, while their strange lyrics point at something darker. A central scene in the film has a wannabe glam-rock cult leader singing an interesting number while strumming on his guitar. Sono directs all of these sequences with the same visual preciseness as the gore moments, making “Suicide Club” into an oddball musical of sorts. This contrasts with the almost total lack of a traditional score, these silences and musical numbers playing off each other in interesting ways.
Ted Nicolaou has made a lot of movies for Charles Band. His association with the producer goes back to his Empire Pictures days, where Nicolaou would direct cult favorites like “The Dungeonmaster” and “TerrorVision.” He made “Bad Channels” during the Full Moon era, alongside a number of flicks for Band's kiddie label, Moonbeam. (Including a duo of films devoted to disturbingly realistically duck people.) Yet, out of all the work he would do under the auspice of this producer, it's clear that the “Subspecies” movies were his baby. He wrote the scripts for each one, in addition to directing, clearly showing an affection for these characters and the world they inhabit. This commitment would make itself even more obvious when, in 1997, Nicolaou would actually direct a spin-off to the “Subspecies” movies. Yes, “Vampire Journals” is set in the world of Radu and the Bloodstone, without centering on either of them. I'm not sure anyone was demanding such a thing but here we are.
The vampire writing these journals is named Zachary. Two hundred years ago, he witnessed the woman he loved turned into a bloodsucker by the same undead master that sired him. Developing a conscious, he decapitated them both. Wielding a magical sword, he's spent the century hunting down and executing every member of the same vampiric bloodline. In the modern day, he's pursuing a powerful vampire named Ash. Ash has set his sights on beautiful concert pianist Sofia, determined to bring her under his spell. Zachary instantly becomes enamored of Sofia as well, seeking to protect her from his bloodthirsty enemy. He navigates the seedy underworld of vampire society in hopes of saving Sofia and destroying Ash.
No matter how goofy the movies might get, we at least cared about charismatically evil Radu and his reluctant fledgling, Michelle. None of the characters in “Vampire Journals” are that interesting. Our protagonist, Zachary, is kind of a whiny dork honestly. If most of Full Moon's movies can be described as knock-offs of bigger budget films, “Vampire Journals” is obviously inspired by “Interview with the Vampire.” But David Gunn is no Brad Pitt. The voice-over narration he reads off is often uninteresting, sometimes simply describing what's happening on-screen, and it goes on for quite some length. Similarly, without Radu's grotesque appearance and Anders Hove's bewildering charm, Jonathon Morris as Ash strikes the viewer as a fairly dull antagonist. He's just another asshole vampire, doing asshole vampire things.
At the very least, “Vampire Journals” only features a little bit of the dodgy special effects that would increasingly define Band's latter day productions. There's also a fair amount of sex and nudity, if that kind of thing interests you. Sadly, “Vampire Journals” is a bit of a snooze. Its archetypal, and frequently whiny, characters do little to endear themselves to the viewer. The story's melodrama is not particularly novel or compelling. Most of the supporting cast members and subplots introduced feel more like a way to pad out of the (short, 81 minute) runtime than anything else. It's far from the worst movie to creep out of the Full Moon factory in the last twenty-six years. Honestly, by those meager standards, it might be one of better movies they've made. However, it's still only going to interest those vamp-heads most desperate for some bloodsucking content to occupy themselves. This one really needed a mummy or some little stop-motion demons, let me tell you. [5/10]
Among the many episodes of “Alfred Hitchcock Presents,” a few penetrated deeper into the pop culture zeitgeist. I've long been curious about the season five episode, “Man from the South,” for two reasons. First off, it's one of seven installments written by Roald Dahl, based on his own short stories. (And later adapted again for Dahl's own anthology series, “Tales of the Unexpected.”) Secondly, and most pressingly, the episode was extensively referenced in Quentin Tarantino's segment in “Four Rooms.” I've never actually seen “Man from the South” before now, so I say it's about time I remedy that.
For those who don't recall, “Man from the South” centers around a young gambler, attempting to chat up a pretty young lady in a Las Vegas bar. That's when a strange man named Carlos approaches him with a bargain. If he can successfully light his cigarette lighter ten times in a row, he'll win the other man's convertible. If he fails, Carlos will chop his pinkie finger off with a meat cleaver. The gambler takes the bet but soon finds himself wondering if it was a good idea. A passerby is called upon to serve as witness, while a bellboy provides the necessary tools.
After such a captivating set-up, and such a tense execution, it's somewhat inevitable that “Man from the South” has a slightly disappointing ending. The denouncement deflates things a bit, even if it leads to one of Dahl's typically morbid twist endings. (Revealed perfectly in the final image.) Yet the performances really sell the entire ordeal. Peter Lorre, looking as toad-like as ever, plays Carlos with a perfectly detached psychopathy. He calmly proposes the morbid deal, going about each step – including bribing the bellboy to get the necessary tools – while speaking quietly. Steve McQueen is ideally cast as the young gambler, perfectly capturing a sense of youthful cockiness while also hinting at the apprehension he's surely feeling. An eye-catching Neile Adams is also wisely chosen as the female witness, whose horrified reactions help further the tension. I can see why Tarantino remembered this episode so vividly. It's an effecting half-hour, framed as always by sardonically droll host segments from Hitchcock himself. [7/10]
It seems many episodes of “The Munsters” began with the writers' room looking at what occupations they hadn't stuck Herman in yet and advancing from there. “Bronco Bustin' Munster” begins with Eddie excitedly telling his dad about a contest at a local rodeo, to last several minutes on a bucking bronco. Determined his father can pull off such a task, and afraid to disappoint his son, Herman and and Grandpa cook up a wacky scheme where the vampire will transform himself into a horse for his son-in-law to ride.”Herman Munster, Shutterbug” sees the undead dad taking up photography as a hobby. While out snapping photos, he unknowingly snaps a shot of two robbers leaving the bank they just robbed. The two crooks show up at the home, holding the family hostage in order to snatch the incriminating photograph.
“Bronco Bustin' Munster” looks like it'll be another episode largely devoted to normal people reacting in outrageous fright from the family's macabre appearances. There's one gag like that, of a rodeo cowboy being thrown from a bull and then willing throwing himself back onto the bull after seeing Lily Munster. (Which is accomplished by playing the footage in reverse.) Otherwise, the laughs here come from Herman's childish personality and Grandpa's goofy scheme. A long scene involves the old man turning into different animals. Probably the funniest moment comes when Herman talks to a random horse, thinking it's Grandpa, and when the vampire unknowingly turns back into his human-like form. The pay-off of this set-up – Herman successfully staying on the bronco, unaware that it's not Grandpa and unknowingly proving his bravery – is totally expected. Yet, as always, I enjoy watching this cast and these characters pull it off.
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