Halloween 2023: October 17th

Cube (2021)

Usually, when the news breaks that some beloved cult classic is getting remade, the seasoned genre fan comes to one of two conclusions. Usually, this is the work of some greedy producer, hoping to cash in on whatever name recognition the original movie might have to turn a quick buck. Alternatively, perhaps a big Hollywood studio is remaking a foreign language success in hopes of replicating that box office here at home. We were certainly inundated with (frequently mediocre) English language remakes of Asian films in the 2000s. Much rarer are overseas remakes of American movies. When it was announced that a Japanese remake of Vincenzo Natali's Canadian sci-fi/horror fave “Cube” was forthcoming, I was surprised and intrigued. It's not like “Cube” is exactly a hot property in the 2020s. Surely a Japanese filmmaker would only take a crack at this story if they had a unique take on it, right? 

Director Yasuhiko Shimizu and screenwriter Koji Tokuo hew fairly closely to Natali's original. This “Cube” also follows a group of strangers, who awaken inside a perfectly cube-shaped room. None has any memory of how they got there. They soon discover they can travel to other, similar looking rooms through hatches in the wall. Some rooms, however, contain deadly mechanical traps. The six individuals are Yuichi, an engineer; Shinji, a 31 year old NEET; Chiharu, a teenager with autism; Ide, a family man and mechanic; Ando, a corporate executive; and Askao, a mysterious woman. They work together to escape their prison, discovering obscure clues that help and hinder them on their voyage. 

My question of why a Japanese studio would decide to remake “Cube,” 26 years after it was originally made, remains unanswered. The fact that “Cube” was famously a frugal production, utilizing a small cast and one set redressed in different ways, was probably a factor. Shimizu's “Cube” follows more-or-less the same narrative as the original. There are direct parallels between the characters here and the 1997 cast. Many incidents reoccur. A boot is thrown from room to room, in hopes of triggering traps. One trap is discovered to be activated by sound. A prominent button appears, prime numbers are discovered in each hatch, and one of the ensemble goes insane by the end. Eventually, Shimizu does deviate from the source material, especially in regards to the main characters and their choices at the end. Yet, if you've seen the original, you will have a good idea of where this film is headed. 

The most interesting thing about foreign language remakes like this is seeing how the values and experiences of a different culture alter the story. In 2021's “Cube,” this is most reflected in the conflicts between the characters. As a high-ranking corporate executive, Ando dismisses the teenage Chiharu and the unemployed Shinji. While there is a class element to this dynamic, in the contrast between the CEO and the blue collar heroes, that's not the main thing Shimizu is on about here. Instead,  resentment between the old and the young drives much of the conflict. The younger people hate their elders because they have all the power. The older man hates the young because he thinks they're all slackers. The inability for one generation to relate to another, floats in and out of the script. 

That's interesting and, from my limited understanding of Japanese society, of particular concern to that country. However, Shimizu's “Cube” follows these ideas in the most disappointing way. Natali's “Cube” was beguiling precisely because of its ambiguity. The question of “how” and “why” remained unanswered, forcing the viewer to find other, fascinating interpretations of the situation. Tokuo's script keeps mum on how everyone came to be in the Cube and to what purpose. However, there's no ambiguity over what it's all supposed to mean. The theme of ageism and generational differences are blatantly pronounced by the characters. As the film progresses, it becomes clear that the main thematic issue is that of hope versus despair. Do the heroes succumb to the uselessness of the scenario and accept death or do they continue forward, striving to escape and survive, despite the odds being stacked against them? The viewer is really hit over the head with these ideas, smothering most any other reading of these events. 

While the original “Cube” had an extremely clever script that executed its intriguing premise in captivating ways, with multiple layers to the story, that's not the main reason it became such a cult classic. No, the main reason people loved “Cube” is because the characters were likable. They were relatable enough that you could easily put yourself in their shoes, while also being distinct, memorable individuals in their own right. The Japanese “Cube” has nothing like that. Instead of being an ensemble piece, Yuichi is the main character of “Cube.” He's recovering from the suicide of his younger brother, who was experiencing some sort of abuse. We know this because – breaking a cardinal rule of “Cube” – the remake features flashbacks to Yuichi's life and takes us outside the titular location. The focus on Yuichi is such that none of the other characters are expanded beyond mere archetypes. When someone goes nuts, it happens without much prompting. The sole female cast member is so vaguely defined as to basically not exist. It doesn't help that the cast is uniformly stiff and bland.

In other words, Shimizu's “Cube” copies most of the surface elements of Natali's original while missing much of what made it fascinating. While the central mystery is mostly maintained, with only a baffling final scene pointing towards any answers, the remake is overall a lot less subtle and intriguing than its inspiration. Even the gory death scenes aren't as good, with only the opening execution being all that memorable. Ironically, a lot of these same criticism can be held against middling American remakes of Japanese horror films. I guess it's only fair that the reverse finally happen too. It's a shame too, as I think there's a lot more room for expansion of the “Cube” universe than what we've seen in the lackluster sequels. This remake is similarly uninspired. [5/10]

Even the Wind is Afraid (1968)

When I think of Mexican horror, my brain still goes to low-budget attempts to replicate American monster movies that usually starred masked wrestlers. Even though filmmakers like Guillermo del Toro and Issa Lopez have elevated the critical standing of the country's genre output, my brain still goes to the Aztec Mummy, El Vampiro, Santo and the Blue Demon when I think of Mexican horror. Yet Mexican horror does have its auteurs. Chief among them is Carlos Enrique Taboada. In fact, Taboada seems to have made some of the most highly respected horror and suspense films within Mexico. He even won his country's equivalent of the Best Picture and Best Director Academy Awards for 1984's “Poison for the Fairies.” While that might've been a more logical place to start with Taboada, I always prefer to go back to the beginning. Taboada's first macabre motion picture was 1968's “Even the Wind is Afraid.” 

Claudia, a student at a secluded all-girls academy, is having visions of a girl hanging herself in a near-by tower. Her fears are dismissed as nightmares and the strong winds that blow at night. Claudia and five of her friends – including the boy-crazy Kitty and tattletale Josephine – investigate the tower themselves. Cruel headmistress Bernarda punishes all the girls, forcing them to stay at the school over spring break. Claudia sleepwalks towards the tower at night and sees the ghost of a girl her age. A sympathetic teacher, Miss Lucia, informs her that a girl named Andrea hanged herself in the tower after Bernarda forbid her from seeing her sick mother. While everyone denies that something supernatural is clearly going on, the spirit of Andrea continues to call to the girls and Claudia especially. 

It is fitting that the wind gets mentioned in “Hasta el viento tiene miedo's” title. From its opening minutes, we hear the wind howling outside the school's walls. This sets the tone for a chilly ghost story right away, which is exactly what unfolds. “Even the Wind is Afraid” pays tribute to the Gothic traditions. The ominous tower, which seems much larger and more desolate on the inside than out, is a classical setting. The image of the ghostly girl, with long hair obscuring her face and in a white gown, is similarly an archetypal visual. Yet “Even the Wind is Afraid” is far from a dusty, stale haunted house story. An unease inhabits the entire movie, which moves towards solid shocks when that hanged body appears suddenly. Or subtler chills, such as in a great scene where Lucia wanders out into the night, pursuing Andrea's ghost as the wind throws her back and forth.

While the motifs “Even the Wind is Afraid” touches on are classic, it still feels pretty modern for 1968. The movie really taps into the youthful energy of its teenage cast. Early on, the film establishes this conflict between the girls and the headmistresses. Kitty, Yvette, Silvia, and Marina are troublemakers. Kitty has a boyfriend she constantly lusts after and is later chastised for wearing a revealing nightgown. This characterizes the teenage girls as eager to express their sexuality, in a world that only wants them to conform to polite standards. The girls are constantly rebelling, in ways both small and large, against the authoritarian attitudes of the school. That the haunting was a girl struggling against the strict rules of her elders ties into this idea as well. 

It further helps that these characters feel so alive. The cast is quite good, each of the girls giving strong performances. Alicia Bonet and Norma Lazareno are especially appealing as Claudia and Kitty. The scenes of the girls hanging out, teasing each other or talking about boys, are so comfortable and naturalistic. Even the more minor girls, like Irma Castillon as Silvia, have a quirky vibe to them I like. “Even the Wind is Afraid” is also a good looking movie. The colors are bright and striking. The cinematography, from Agustin Jimenez, is excellent. A sequence where Kitten performs a playful striptease for her classmates – it's less sleazy than it sounds – is shot from a playful low angle, the dancing placed in the center of the frame. I also love a shot that pans across the girls' stunned faces after Claudio says something surprising. 

“Even the Wind is Afraid” kept me guessing, its premise continuing pass the point where most movies would have ended, heading towards a far more poetic and cathartic finale. Like the best ghost stories, this one has the viewer reflecting on the nature of this world and the one beyond as well as giving us a few choice chills. I'm not surprised to read that this is a beloved, and highly influential, cult classic in Mexico. For the most prominent example, del Toro's “The Devil's Backbone” clearly drew some inspiration from it. In conclusion, this Carlos Enrique Taboada guy knew what he was doing. I look forward to exploring his films more. [8/10]

Monsters: The Waiting Room

I've been using IMDb's Highest Rated episode feature to narrow down what anthology shows I'm watching this year. Among “Monsters'” highest rated episodes is “The Waiting Room.” (Which shouldn't be confused with another highly regarded installment of the series, “The Waiting Game.”) I'll admit, I picked this one specifically because it stars John Saxon. “The Waiting Room” concerns John, newly married to Catherine. John's dad, Benjamin, convinces his son to take his honeymoon in the same hotel him and his mother stayed in. Ben tags along and finds the hotel in much the same condition. After getting up in the middle of the night, John wanders into a dark room and is taken capture by a strange woman. Benjamin then explains to Catherine how, on his honeymoon, he encountered the same woman in the same strange room... 

“The Waiting Room” qualifies as one of “Monsters” more low-key episodes, relegating its bugbear of the week to its final minutes. Instead, this installment plays more like an old fable. The idea of a father leading his own son back to the same spot he had his honeymoon in, where the boy was conceived even, makes more sense in a medieval setting than a modern one. Yet the premise of a seemingly honorable man having one moment of infidelity that haunts him his entire life, rather literally in this case, is the exact sort of morality you expect from an old myth. The message here is clear: Guys, honor your wives and don't screw around, no matter how tempting the strange woman in the dark room might be. There's also a circular quality to the story, of returning to the same place and events repeating themselves, that seem archetypal to me.

As a half-hour of television, “The Waiting Room” is mostly effective because of its central performance. John Saxon, an actor more-than-capable of elevating schlock, plays Benjamin. The script is a bit awkward, how Catherine's newly acquired father-in-law immediately reveals his horrible secret, but Saxon's delivery of the regretful monologue sells it. Saxon achieves the exact balance here, of a man whose indiscretions are understandable but who you nevertheless kind of hate for his choices. Seeing him get his comeuppance is worthwhile. I do wish the story, especially the idea of the mysterious woman appearing in any dark room and her monstrous off-spring, where developed a little more. Not to mention John ends up being a periphery character. Yet this is still a mildly spooky half-hour of television. [7/10]

The Spider Will Kill You (1976)

Before directing cult favorites like “Tourist Trap” and the original “Puppet Master,” David Schmoeller made this half-hour short as his thesis film. “The Spider Will Kill You” follows an eccentric blind man, Jonathan, who lives in what appears to be an old theater. He's surrounded by mannequins, which seem to speak with his parents' voices. The man has an especially fraught relationship with his “mother,” who warns him of a trunk full of deadly spiders in his bedroom. While exploring the other rooms in the building, Jonathan discovers a female mannequin, which seemingly comes to life and says her name is Christina. He quickly falls in love with the living doll, bringing her back to his room. Yet just as he becomes devoted to Christina, she begins to torment him.

“The Spider Will Kill You” is a weird one. In many ways, it matches the stereotype of an artsy-fartsy student film by a budding filmmaker, eager to show off his talents. The premise presented here is obviously rift with symbolism. An opening monologue clarifies that Jonathan is blind due to being exposed to too much oxygen in an incubator as an infant. From the moment he came into this world, he's been trapped in dark places, mirroring his blindness. Yet the dusty, derelict building he lives in now also resembles a womb of sorts, becoming a comparison to his smothering, Norma Bates-like mother. The rotting building also reflects the protagonist's fractured mind. 

The exact meaning of the mannequins are harder to determine. Certainly, one can read into a man meeting a woman who is literally an object, that he then drags back to his home, declaring his love for her and that she's now his mate. Yet any statement of objectification is muddled by Christina being more of a femme fatale than a victim. Jonathan is such a doddering old weirdo that it's hard not to feel sorry for him. Perhaps his relationship, as it were, with Christina follows the same path of manipulation and control that his relationship with his mom did. In which case the odd, violent ending represents some freedom being achieved... Though that feels like an awfully upbeat reading, considering how dour the final images are.

All attempts to decipher its meaning aside, what did I think of “The Spider Will Kill You?” It's definitely kind of creepy! The copy available on Youtube is extremely dark and grainy, making the film a little difficult to follow at times. (Ted Nicolaou was the director-of-photography, by the way.) The acting is quite stilted, though in a way that contributes to the film's oddball atmosphere. It's good to see that “Tourist Trap” was not the beginning of Schmoeller mining the uncanny qualities of mannequins for scares. Indeed, the shots of dummies sitting in the dark and slowly turning their heads are probably the creepiest moments of the film. Ultimately, it's hard to get my brain around exactly what “The Spider Will Kill You” means, though I did appreciate its weirdo ambiance. Hopefully a better quality copy emerges some day. [6/10]