Der müde Tod
Owing to German Expressionism's influence on the foundational films of the genre, Fritz Lang is heavily associated with the classic horror era. This is despite him debatedly never making a proper horror movie. “M” would birth cinema's first serial murderer but exists outside the conventions of the killer thrillers that would eventually form. Dr. Mabuse, with his hypnotic powers and ability to swap bodies, would go on to influence many mesmeric villains but Lang's films with the characters are as much crime stories as they are anything else. “Metropolis” is, of course, epic science fiction despite its mad scientist, inhuman android, and hellish machinery obviously inspiring countless horror films. Another good example is 1921's “Destiny.” An omnibus feature that, like “Waxworks,” features three tragic tales across time and, like “The Phantom Carriage,” is also a fable about Death as a personified being. That pushes it close to the margins of horror, so I supposed it's as good a silent classic as any to kick off this year's Halloween season.
A young couple, deeply in love, ride a carriage into a medieval village. They pick up a hitchhiker, unaware that the sunken-eyed passenger is Death himself. Years before, Death had bought a small plot of land in the village before erecting a massive, impenetrable wall around it. Later that day, the couple meet the strange man again in the tavern. It is during this encounter that the woman's lover seemingly vanishes. She quickly deduces the true identity of the man she met that day, wailing in front of that wall for her lover to be returned. Death takes pity on her and explains the situation, that he's merely following God's will and that it was her boyfriend's time to go. He makes a wager with the girl and presents her with three candles, each one representing another love story happening somewhere in the world. If love can triumph over death in these scenarios, he will give the woman her partner back. The three tales involves: An infidel in love with the sister of the Caliph deep within the Muslim world, a love triangle set in Venice, and a story of a Chinese emperor demanding the assistant of his court magician and the extreme steps she takes to escape his lust.
At the same time, “Destiny” is a movie very specifically of the era in which it was made. The sample size of German Expressionistic films I've been exposed to is admittedly small, out of the already comparatively small number of films from this time and place that still exist. Having said that, it's weird that “Destiny” is the second omnibus feature from this period I've seen that also has an Arabian Nights inspired segment. Naturally, both the depiction of Islamic and Chinese cultures are not the most sensitive through modern eyes. In addition to featuring white actors in yellow and brown-ish face. That's to be expected from a 105 year old motion picture. So is a fair deal of melodrama. If anything drags “Destiny” down for me, it's that element. Both the first and second historical sequences are extremely heavy on the love triangles, secret betrayals, plotting and scheming, sneaking around, and all of that. The Venice segment is almost difficult to follow at times, because of its conflicting plot points. Even as someone fairly familiar with silent cinema, it can be a bit hard to follow at times and also not that compelling in its own right.
“Destiny” might be one of the rare omnibus features where I found myself far more invested in the framing device than the stories contained within. While the tale of the third candle is neat enough in its own right, I did feel my interest waning some during the other two segments. Meanwhile, the story of the young lovers and Death has an universal quality to it. We all must face our own mortality but I believe that love survives. Or, at least, that the acts of kindness that speak to the greater need for love and compassion ripple through time further than those of cruelty or selfishness. That's what the last act of “Destiny” is about. It is, unsurprisingly, the most poignant narrative collected here, despite also partaking in the same sort of protracted melodrama that you see throughout the film. Lil Dagover is, perhaps, a bit hammy as the girl but I do find her final act touching.
Earlier this year, in what was either some early guerilla marketing for “Disclosure Day” or an attempt to distract from the casual malevolence and stupidity of the current administration, the United States government declassified a collection of documents about so-called unidentified flying objects. (Or unidentified anomalous phenomena, if you're nasty.) It was, as is usually the case with things of this nature, a whole lot of nothing: Blurry photos and videos of indeterminate shapes in the sky, among pages of reports of wildly varying credulity. If nothing else, it showed that the government's interest in the possibility of extraterrestrial life is not a recent event. Not that I needed to be told this. As a genre dork raised on a steady diet of old B-movies, I'm well aware that covert government operations have been investigating possible alien invasions for decades now. Look at 1958's “The Brain Eaters,” a low-budget quickie distributed by A.I.P. and produced by/starring “Night of the Blood Beast's” Ed Nelson. The film contains what has to be among the earliest depictions of the feds going about and collecting Files on some eXtraterrestrial life.
Weird shit is happening in the small town of Riverdale. Glenn Cameron discovers a large structure in the woods, shapes like a rocket's nose cone and surrounded by dead animals. People in town are acting strangely and there's been a rash of murders. With Archie presumably too busy at the malt shop to investigate, the government dispatches Senator Powers and a team of federal agents to look into matters. They find the interior of the cone is full of maze-like tunnels. Glenn's dad, the mayor, is discovered to be acting unusual and violent. This proceeds a more horrifying discovery: An otherworldly parasite has attached itself to the back of the mayor's neck, taking over his mind during a 48 hour process of fatally sucking his brains out. The mayor is not the only victim, as several of the town's residents are under the sway of these strange creatures. Cameron, Sen. Powers, and a group of scientists and assistants attempt to stop and control this invasion before it grows any more powerful. Yet any of them could also be possessed by these brain eaters at any time...
Roger Corman claimed to have been an uncredited producer on "The Brain Eaters," helping the filmmakers scrounge up a budget that maxed out at all of 26,000 dollars. With so little money at their disposal, the producers could not afford even a Paul Blesidel-made rubber monster suit. Instead, the film falls into that cheapest category of alien invasion stories, often favored by B-movie producers: The body snatcher narrative, in which humans are taken over by malevolent, otherworldly, and usually off-screen intelligences. Unlike the likes of "The Day Mars Invaded the Earth" or "They Came from Beyond Space," there are at least monsters of a sort here. As in Corman's "It Conquered the World" and Heinlien's "The Puppet Masters" – which the film resembles enough that the author sued – small beasties attached themselves to the spinal cord to take over the body. The special effects are not impressive. The brief glimpses we get at the Brain Eaters reveal them to be exactly what they are: Wind-up toys with fuzzy patches from a fur coat and pipe cleaner antennas glued on. Horror host Seymour derisively dubbed the movie "Attack of the Bunny Slippers" and that's not an unfair joke.
Despite its obvious budgetary short-comings, I do think “The Brain Eaters” has some qualities that make it mildly interesting. Without spoiling too much about this obscure, sixty-eight year old monster movie, the eventual origin revealed for the titular menace may not be exactly what you are expecting. The finale features a future sci-fi icon, in make-up that makes him look like Moses but immediately recognizable because of his voice, appearing to pontificate on the nature of the parasites. He describes a society of collective conformity, without fear or anger. The obvious comparison is “Invasion of the Body Snatchers,” which similarly had its otherworldly invaders promising a world of peaceful co-existence at the sacrifice of all individuality. “The Brain Eaters” does not have any room for ambiguity. The invaders are villains and are clearly meant to invoke fears of communist ideology that defined the Cold War period. They can look like any person on the street but an insidious outside threat lurks within them, a danger to our basic American freedoms, the script seems to say. Yet simply giving the monsters the space to express why they feel their way of life is superior does add an interesting wrinkle to the material. It fleshes the standard plot out a bit.
“The Brain Eaters” was directed by Bruno VeSota, a distinctive looking character actor that had appeared in several previous Corman productions. VeSota had also previously co-directed the dream-like “Dementia.” While “The Brain Eaters” is not nearly as visually memorable a motion picture as that one, cinematographer Lawrence Raimond does engineer a few good shots. The sequence set inside the mayor's office are at an askew angle, to create a sense of disorientation. A shot of several mind-controlled citizens lurking outside the heroine's apartment are similarly moody. In general, “The Brain Eaters” is possessed of a certain noir-like pessimism. The ending is strangely downbeat. More-so than in your typical fifties creature feature, there's a sense that the government are almost powerless to stop the invaders. Scientists repeatedly emphasize that they have no idea where the structure came from or how it works. The local cops and politicians both fall victim to the brain-sucking manipulators, as if to suggest that our traditional voices of authorities are not exempt from the influence of outside threats. There's a sense throughout that the structures we trust to protect us are far less sturdy than they appear.
This unexpected streak of cynicism is enough to distinguish “The Brain Eaters” from the many other similar movies from the same era. The film is definitely cheesy in terms of its special effects and plotting. The runtime is barely over an hour, leaving little room for any additional depth. Its characters are as stock-parts as you'd expect. However, the script throws in enough curve balls to keep me guessing and I was mildly impressed by how hopeless the movie ends up feeling at times. I guess, on the verge of a new decade, even the B-movie makers were beginning to loose some of that post-WWII optimism. It's entirely possible I am easily charmed by the quirks of motion pictures such as these and willing to forgive its flaws. But if you've not caught up with this one, and you've got a taste for bullshit of this strain like I do, give it a look. It might poke into your brain in unexpected ways. [7/10]
Weird shit is happening in the small town of Riverdale. Glenn Cameron discovers a large structure in the woods, shapes like a rocket's nose cone and surrounded by dead animals. People in town are acting strangely and there's been a rash of murders. With Archie presumably too busy at the malt shop to investigate, the government dispatches Senator Powers and a team of federal agents to look into matters. They find the interior of the cone is full of maze-like tunnels. Glenn's dad, the mayor, is discovered to be acting unusual and violent. This proceeds a more horrifying discovery: An otherworldly parasite has attached itself to the back of the mayor's neck, taking over his mind during a 48 hour process of fatally sucking his brains out. The mayor is not the only victim, as several of the town's residents are under the sway of these strange creatures. Cameron, Sen. Powers, and a group of scientists and assistants attempt to stop and control this invasion before it grows any more powerful. Yet any of them could also be possessed by these brain eaters at any time...
Despite its obvious budgetary short-comings, I do think “The Brain Eaters” has some qualities that make it mildly interesting. Without spoiling too much about this obscure, sixty-eight year old monster movie, the eventual origin revealed for the titular menace may not be exactly what you are expecting. The finale features a future sci-fi icon, in make-up that makes him look like Moses but immediately recognizable because of his voice, appearing to pontificate on the nature of the parasites. He describes a society of collective conformity, without fear or anger. The obvious comparison is “Invasion of the Body Snatchers,” which similarly had its otherworldly invaders promising a world of peaceful co-existence at the sacrifice of all individuality. “The Brain Eaters” does not have any room for ambiguity. The invaders are villains and are clearly meant to invoke fears of communist ideology that defined the Cold War period. They can look like any person on the street but an insidious outside threat lurks within them, a danger to our basic American freedoms, the script seems to say. Yet simply giving the monsters the space to express why they feel their way of life is superior does add an interesting wrinkle to the material. It fleshes the standard plot out a bit.
This unexpected streak of cynicism is enough to distinguish “The Brain Eaters” from the many other similar movies from the same era. The film is definitely cheesy in terms of its special effects and plotting. The runtime is barely over an hour, leaving little room for any additional depth. Its characters are as stock-parts as you'd expect. However, the script throws in enough curve balls to keep me guessing and I was mildly impressed by how hopeless the movie ends up feeling at times. I guess, on the verge of a new decade, even the B-movie makers were beginning to loose some of that post-WWII optimism. It's entirely possible I am easily charmed by the quirks of motion pictures such as these and willing to forgive its flaws. But if you've not caught up with this one, and you've got a taste for bullshit of this strain like I do, give it a look. It might poke into your brain in unexpected ways. [7/10]
To anybody who has done a minute of research on such matters, it is understood that the world of low-budget film marketing is essentially a carny act. It's harder these days, when a simple glance at your phone can tell you more information on any given movie. Dig deep enough into the guts of Tubi, however, and you can still find motion pictures that depend on an intriguing or salacious title, eye-catching poster art, or the promise of a known star (who may only be on-screen for minutes at most) to get people to watch it. Back in the days of drive-in theaters or video stores, that was enough to get an audience to put their money down on a ticket or weekend rental. If the advertising was ultimately not exactly representative, it was not the producers' problem, as they already had your dollar. Or your loonie, as the case may be for our neighbors to the north. That's where a motion picture with an especially misleading – perhaps even confusing – title was produced and released straight-to-video in 1987. What would you assume the central threat in a horror flick called "Blue Monkey" to be? Probably a member of the Old World monkey species cercopithecus mitis. Or at the very least a periwinkle primate of some sort. An azure ape, perhaps. But no. "Blue Monkey" is about a giant mutated bug thing. The title, as far as I can tell, stems from a single scene where a child uses the phrase as if it is well-known slang for a generic boogeyman or creepy crawlie of any sort. I am not familiar with these words meaning that and it would seem most people who saw "Blue Monkey" aren't either, judging from the reviews. Nevertheless, it is certainly a memorable title, enough so that I immediately thought of this otherwise obscure film when I went in search of a Canadian movie to watch this September. So I guess misleading marketing does work.
This tale of a monster that is neither blue nor a monkey begins in the greenhouse of an elderly woman. She has received a new species of flower, currently only found on a recently emerged volcanic island near Micronesia, that has grown extraordinarily overnight. A visiting handyman seems to prick his finger on a thorn, despite the plant not having thorns. He quickly grows sick and collapses, after which he's taken to a local hospital. Doctors Rachel and Judith are on the case, the man already developing gangrene and a high fever. The emergency team is distracted when police detective Jim Bishop arrives with his partner, who was recently shot. Shortly afterwards, an unidentifiable larva emerges from the sick man's mouth. It seems to bring with it a disease that takes the man's life, forcing the hospital to go into lock-down. All the regular staff and patients are now trapped inside. The weird larva continues to mutate, especially after some kids feed it some growth hormones. It grows into a giant cricket/mantis type thing that begins to prey on the unsuspecting staff. Detective Bishop, Doctor Rachel, and an etymologist are on the case to stop the creature before anymore lives are taken.
While the monkey remains elusive, there is a lot of blue coloration in this film. "Blue Monkey" was directed by William Fruet, the Canuxploitation veteran who gifted the world with "Killer Party" and a few other titles of minor notoriety. Its cinematographer was Brenton Spencer, formerly an assistant cameraman on "The Changling" and "First Blood." Both of these guys would go on to mostly work in the world of low-budget, Canadian-lensed, genre television. The standards of such things were different in the eighties which means "Blue Monkey" actually looks pretty damn slick. The tunnels, storage rooms, and industrial areas of this hospital are often lit in atmospheric purples and, yes, blues. There's a lot of billowing mist, to add to the mysterious ambiance. The film utilizes quite a lot of point-of-view shots to suggest its beastie lurking around and sneaking up on potential victims, a trick that works decently to build a little suspense around the monster. I've seen a lot of generic creature features set in non-distinct buildings and warehouses so I can say that the "Blue Monkey" team went the extra step to light the hell out of these sets.
So the film makes the most of whatever production values it had. What about that monkey, err, monster? The man-sized invertebrate is properly bug-eyed, mandibled, clawed, and chitinous to suggest any number of real world creepy crawlers. The effects are decent, with enough slime and pulsating thoraxes to make this creature intimidating. The only time the seams start to show is when the bug starts flopping around in insectoid frenzy or walks upright like a man. Otherwise, "Blue Monkey" does an okay job of mining some ick factor out of its beast. Victims are webbed up in fleshy cocoons, gooey eggs are squeezed out, and there's a good gag where somebody's chest explodes and tosses blood around. Obviously, "Alien" was the main source of inspiration here but Fruet and his team imitate Ridley Scott's masterpiece competently. The problem arises with how long the film takes to get to the good stuff. The monster remains in its larval stage for longer than is advisable. The middle section seems devoted largely to simply watching the bug stand around. It feels a bit like the action doesn't start until about the last half-hour. This was probably a conservation of budgetary resources, the filmmakers trying to build as much movie as they could around as little footage of an expensive, temperamental special effect. But it does not lead to the most exciting watching experience.
In order to fill space when the monster isn't around, "Blue Monkey" occupies itself with a quarantine subplot. It makes sense that a weird creature getting out would lead to the government locking a public location down. Despite that, there's still a lot of coming and going around the building in its first half. The speed with which the government contains this building seems improbable to me. (I'm tempted to make a joke about efficient socialized Canadian healthcare but, despite its production origins, the movie appears to be set in the U.S.) The quarantine storyline results in only a handful of meaningful scenes of people in bio-hazard suits assembling around the hospital and shooting one person who attempts to escape. It is, obviously, an excuse to keep people in this building with a murderous monster when they otherwise could have simply left. The result feels half-formed. As if the producers decided to shove a pandemic thriller into their monster movie after realizing the big bug was not quite enough to support a feature length runtime.
Hey, at least the actors being chased around this hospital are likable enough. Steve Railsback stars as our detective, bringing the amount of intensity you expect of him to a fairly generic part. Gwynyth Walsh makes a professional seeming heroine, a random doctor thrust into an extraordinary situation. The most familiar faces are maybe in the supporting cast. John Vernon plays a classically hard-assed John Vernon-ian part as the jerk administrator of the hospital. Don Lake is a name you probably don't know but you might recognize his face, from his appearance in nostalgic 90s favorites like "Terminator 2" or "Super Mario Bros." (I remember him as the Crazy Eddie parody in "Short Circuit 2.") He plays the insect specialist and brings a likable eccentricity to the part. I wondered if his character would play the expected arc of a scientist wanting to study the monster, but Lake is too affable for that and goes the humanist route. A name you'll recognize but a face you might not is Sarah Polley, the beloved Canadian character actress having an early career role as one of the obnoxiously adorable moppets wandering around the hospital. That's the kind of movie "Blue Monkey," investing its minor characters with more quirks than they probably otherwise needed. Like the alcoholic blind lady who convinces her teetotaler room mate to take up the bottle. Or Joe Flaherty randomly showing up as an expectant father who has done the math so exactly, he can perfectly pinpoint when his wife is going into labor.
Would Flaherty's Count Floyd character declare “Blue Monkey” to be “verry scarry” or not? Hard to say but I bet he would also be a bit bewildered by the title. Some overseas distributors made the decision to re-title the motion picture to “Insect.” Which might not also be strictly accurate. I didn't look to check if the bug monster had six legs and three body segments, but it's certainly a far more suitable title. Damned to VHS-only purgatory for many years, “Blue Monkey” has now been given the prestige Blu-Ray restoration, proving again that any eighties horror movie is going to get that treatment in the boutique DVD era. It's got one or two things about it that I can recommend while also being fairly un-extraordinary in other ways. Not to keep harping on this but maybe this one would have more of a cult following if it actually was about a sapphire sasquatch of some sort on a rampage. Just saying, that has more novelty than a mutated bug-thing! [6/10]
This tale of a monster that is neither blue nor a monkey begins in the greenhouse of an elderly woman. She has received a new species of flower, currently only found on a recently emerged volcanic island near Micronesia, that has grown extraordinarily overnight. A visiting handyman seems to prick his finger on a thorn, despite the plant not having thorns. He quickly grows sick and collapses, after which he's taken to a local hospital. Doctors Rachel and Judith are on the case, the man already developing gangrene and a high fever. The emergency team is distracted when police detective Jim Bishop arrives with his partner, who was recently shot. Shortly afterwards, an unidentifiable larva emerges from the sick man's mouth. It seems to bring with it a disease that takes the man's life, forcing the hospital to go into lock-down. All the regular staff and patients are now trapped inside. The weird larva continues to mutate, especially after some kids feed it some growth hormones. It grows into a giant cricket/mantis type thing that begins to prey on the unsuspecting staff. Detective Bishop, Doctor Rachel, and an etymologist are on the case to stop the creature before anymore lives are taken.
So the film makes the most of whatever production values it had. What about that monkey, err, monster? The man-sized invertebrate is properly bug-eyed, mandibled, clawed, and chitinous to suggest any number of real world creepy crawlers. The effects are decent, with enough slime and pulsating thoraxes to make this creature intimidating. The only time the seams start to show is when the bug starts flopping around in insectoid frenzy or walks upright like a man. Otherwise, "Blue Monkey" does an okay job of mining some ick factor out of its beast. Victims are webbed up in fleshy cocoons, gooey eggs are squeezed out, and there's a good gag where somebody's chest explodes and tosses blood around. Obviously, "Alien" was the main source of inspiration here but Fruet and his team imitate Ridley Scott's masterpiece competently. The problem arises with how long the film takes to get to the good stuff. The monster remains in its larval stage for longer than is advisable. The middle section seems devoted largely to simply watching the bug stand around. It feels a bit like the action doesn't start until about the last half-hour. This was probably a conservation of budgetary resources, the filmmakers trying to build as much movie as they could around as little footage of an expensive, temperamental special effect. But it does not lead to the most exciting watching experience.
Hey, at least the actors being chased around this hospital are likable enough. Steve Railsback stars as our detective, bringing the amount of intensity you expect of him to a fairly generic part. Gwynyth Walsh makes a professional seeming heroine, a random doctor thrust into an extraordinary situation. The most familiar faces are maybe in the supporting cast. John Vernon plays a classically hard-assed John Vernon-ian part as the jerk administrator of the hospital. Don Lake is a name you probably don't know but you might recognize his face, from his appearance in nostalgic 90s favorites like "Terminator 2" or "Super Mario Bros." (I remember him as the Crazy Eddie parody in "Short Circuit 2.") He plays the insect specialist and brings a likable eccentricity to the part. I wondered if his character would play the expected arc of a scientist wanting to study the monster, but Lake is too affable for that and goes the humanist route. A name you'll recognize but a face you might not is Sarah Polley, the beloved Canadian character actress having an early career role as one of the obnoxiously adorable moppets wandering around the hospital. That's the kind of movie "Blue Monkey," investing its minor characters with more quirks than they probably otherwise needed. Like the alcoholic blind lady who convinces her teetotaler room mate to take up the bottle. Or Joe Flaherty randomly showing up as an expectant father who has done the math so exactly, he can perfectly pinpoint when his wife is going into labor.
Usually, when a film becomes best known for its ending, it's a testament to the impact a twist or reveal had on audiences. People remember that the Planet of the Apes is Earth or that Bruce Willis was a ghost because they add new context to everything that came before. Sometimes, however, an ending becomes famous for the wrong reasons. If all you hear about a film is that the ending cheapens the ninety minutes before it, someone fucked up during production. That was mostly what I heard in 2005 about "Cry_Wolf," that it had a deeply unsatisfying twist that made the entire experience feel like a prank. Despite that notoriety, like most wide release horror films of the last twenty years with the mildest of slasher vibe, defenders have since emerged. I skipped "Cry_Wolf" back in my own high school days but that was a long time ago now – two decades, in fact – so let me see if this one is as lame as everyone said or if it's actually a clever subversion of genre conventions.
Following scholastic failures at past schools, rich British kid Owen is transferred to Westlake Academy, a fancy American boarding school. He quickly falls in with a group of friends led by Dodger, a pretty redhead with a mischievous glint in her eyes. The gang is composed of jockish Tom, preppy Mercedes, metal head Randall, nerdy Regina, token black guy Lewis and characteristics-free Graham. They gather every weekend. They drink and play a game call "Cry Wolf," in which someone is secretly designated with the role of the Wolf and everyone else must determine who that is. In recent news, a former student named Becky is found dead in the woods outside the academy. Dodger and Owen take inspiration from this for a school wide game of Cry Wolf, kicked off by a mass e-mail describing a masked serial killer. However, the "game" soon gets weird, as rooms are trashed, threatening private messages are sent, and people within the group begin to disappear. Owen begins to suspect that the Wolf is real, that he's targeting his friends, and that the killer is someone they all know.
One of the first shots in "Cry_Wolf" is a close-up on the tiny screen of what I think is a Nokia cellphone, the blocky black-on-white text containing plot relevant information. A few scenes after that, Owen plays for a second on his N-Gage before flipping over to its notoriously cumbersome phone feature. Mobile phones are prevalent all throughout the film, such as when Mercedes sends Lewis a sexy selfie. He complains about how long it takes to receive the pic, a good indicator that the film is set in the paleolithic era of our modern wireless age. Characters use instant messenger and e-mails to communicate extensively. That marks "Cry_Wolf" as an obvious attempt to re-imagine the classic slasher movie set-up for the hip youth of 2005. Further evidence of this is seen in the then-trendy fashion, such as Randell's mall-goth eyebrow piercing or Mercedes' boy-shorts lingerie. "Cry_Wolf" is also dated precisely to my junior year of high school by the casualness of its ideological impropriety. Homophobic slurs are thrown around a few times. Young men boast proudly of their un-gentle sexual conquests. A teenage girl having an affair with an adult male teacher is a plot point. While the script briefly pauses to consider the obvious power imbalances in such a relationship, the ending basically plays the trope of a jailbait femme fatale entrapping an older man straight.
I bring all this up not to clutch pearls or to mock the clumsiness of dated technology. Instead, it all points towards "Cry_Wolf's" hunger to be seen as a very cool film of its day. The movie was the result of a contest by Chrysler and Universal to award a new filmmaker with a million dollar budget, suggesting it was a deliberate attempt to capture the voice of a new generation. In some ways, the embracing of how mobile phones and the internet were already starting to change the way people communicate and the flow of (mis)information makes it tempting to call "Cry_Wolf" ahead of its time. However, "Serial Experiments Lain," this ain't. We hear about how rumors spread online but we don't see much evidence of it. The legend of the Wolf, an internet-birthed bugbear four years before Slenderman, seems to spread entirely off-screen. The movie ultimately uses the ever-present inter-connectivity of the online era as a gimmick added to a meatspace-centered thriller construct. The Wolf still mostly exists via scenes of him chasing people down or lurking around a corner. Suspicion grows via misplaced knives, bloody evidence, or a chance glimpse at a secret meeting. The film is ensouled with this "how do you do, fellow kids" attitude, desperate to appear in-the-know but unable to use these ideas in any way that isn't awkward.
Following scholastic failures at past schools, rich British kid Owen is transferred to Westlake Academy, a fancy American boarding school. He quickly falls in with a group of friends led by Dodger, a pretty redhead with a mischievous glint in her eyes. The gang is composed of jockish Tom, preppy Mercedes, metal head Randall, nerdy Regina, token black guy Lewis and characteristics-free Graham. They gather every weekend. They drink and play a game call "Cry Wolf," in which someone is secretly designated with the role of the Wolf and everyone else must determine who that is. In recent news, a former student named Becky is found dead in the woods outside the academy. Dodger and Owen take inspiration from this for a school wide game of Cry Wolf, kicked off by a mass e-mail describing a masked serial killer. However, the "game" soon gets weird, as rooms are trashed, threatening private messages are sent, and people within the group begin to disappear. Owen begins to suspect that the Wolf is real, that he's targeting his friends, and that the killer is someone they all know.
I bring all this up not to clutch pearls or to mock the clumsiness of dated technology. Instead, it all points towards "Cry_Wolf's" hunger to be seen as a very cool film of its day. The movie was the result of a contest by Chrysler and Universal to award a new filmmaker with a million dollar budget, suggesting it was a deliberate attempt to capture the voice of a new generation. In some ways, the embracing of how mobile phones and the internet were already starting to change the way people communicate and the flow of (mis)information makes it tempting to call "Cry_Wolf" ahead of its time. However, "Serial Experiments Lain," this ain't. We hear about how rumors spread online but we don't see much evidence of it. The legend of the Wolf, an internet-birthed bugbear four years before Slenderman, seems to spread entirely off-screen. The movie ultimately uses the ever-present inter-connectivity of the online era as a gimmick added to a meatspace-centered thriller construct. The Wolf still mostly exists via scenes of him chasing people down or lurking around a corner. Suspicion grows via misplaced knives, bloody evidence, or a chance glimpse at a secret meeting. The film is ensouled with this "how do you do, fellow kids" attitude, desperate to appear in-the-know but unable to use these ideas in any way that isn't awkward.
That strange lack of tension is present all throughout "Cry_Wolf." Even if you went into the film unaware of its "April Fools' Day" style plot, from the minute Lindy Booth's eyes sparkle mischievously at Owen, you can tell that this story is one of massive game being played. It's all a fake-out. While suspense could've been derived from the question of who is behind this manipulation, or how far it may progress, there's little doubt about the answers to those questions. The main character ends the film as a sap, perfectly strung along every step of the way by a game master whose identity is never a mystery. The result is a mystery completely devoid of intrigue and a thriller totally without thrills. This is further compounded by a cast of characters who are one-dimensional at best. Most of the performances are similarly one-note, with Jared Padalaki and Jesse Janzen especially blustering through their dialogue. Julian Morris is a wide-eyed wisp of a protagonist, with little depth. The weakness in the casting can also be seen in the decision to have Jon Bon Jovi, during his brief attempt at starting an acting career, as the grabby teacher. To say his on-screen presence is living on a prayer is giving his stiff shrug of a performance too much credit.
As Dodger, Lindy Booth turns up the purring, pixie sensuality and it's very easy to see how a teenage boy could instantly fall for this redheaded trickster. The script denies her, and every other character, any depth though. Aside from that and the camp factor in its 2005 signifiers, "Cry_Wolf" has little else to give. Director Jeff Wadlow did not become the voice of a generation. After trying out action with "Never Back Down" and "Kick-Ass 2," he now specializes in the schlockiest of Blumhouse's horror flicks. This is an example of a film dressing in the drag of the slasher genre in service of an attempt at something clever, without any interest in what that style can do well. A straight ahead gory murder mystery assuredly would have been a lot more entertaining. Whatever defenders that have emerged for this one, I cannot count myself among them. [4/10]
In April of 2025, thanks to my dog being too excited about meeting other puppies on her morning walk, I fell with an outstretched palm onto some asphalt and broke my arm in two places. To facilitate proper healing, I had a surgery in which a small metal plate was screwed into my bones. I guess this thing is just a part of me until the crematorium operator digs it out of my ashes. Shortly after I got my cast off and wrapped up physical therapy, I saw “Metalosis Maligna,” a 2006 film from Dutch animator/multi-media artist/prankster Floris Kaayk. The seven minute short operates as an educational documentary about the titular condition. It is a streptococcus bacteria that can infect the flesh around metal implants during their insertion. The disease lies dormant in the body for several years, symptoms starting and stopping without warning. Those symptoms include the metal implant “growing,” not merely spreading through the healthy tissue but replacing it entirely. What begins as painful bumps under the skin can quickly escalate to metal protrusions through the flesh. In extreme case, metalosis maligna can cause entire body parts to be replaced with jagged, metallic growths. There is no known cure for the disease.
Metalosis maligna is, thankfully, fictional. However, Kaayk's film does everything it can to convince a not-so-savvy viewer otherwise. It is done in the style of a television documentary, the kind of thing you would expect to see as part of a news program. Or broadcast as an infomercial to raise awareness of the condition. Clips of random people on the street, CGI animation depicting how the disease spreads, and interviews are included like you would expect to see in any scientific documentary about a specific pathogen. The presentation is intentionally low-key, the female narrator speaking softly, the musical score quiet and unintrusive. The interviewed doctor relates the details of the disease and how little we know about it with stone-faced seriousness. The specifics of the condition are obviously fantastical. I'm fairly confident metal can't “grow.” Tthat a human being would die if metallic matter started stabbing through multiple parts of their body. This contrast is most obvious in the last act, when we see people having whole areas of their limbs and head replaced with jagged collections of screws, plates, and metal bars. However, the dryness with which all of this is shown and assembled goes a long way towards making it seem that the titular infection is real. Show this to a child or someone especially gullible and they would probably think it was.
I, on the other hand, found "Metalosis Maligna" to be extremely unsettling. Maybe that's primarily because I'm right in the demographic to be freaked out by this, as someone who recently had a metal implant added to their body. The detail that the condition can lay dormant for years after the surgery before sprouting seems especially designed to make a viewer paranoid. I've always found the idea of invasive diseases that cause radical changes or internal growth through the body to be especially horrifying. "Metalosis" reminds me of especially extreme conditions like petrified muscle or treeman syndrome, which are only slightly less terrifying than scrap metal infecting your body.
The short also reminds me, obviously, of "Tetsuo: The Iron Man." Much like that weirdo cult classic, it's easy to read the Kaayk's work as a literalization of anxieties about technology overtaking our bodies. When this short was made in 2006, smart phones were only beginning to take shape but their current omnipresence must've been a natural extension of the way internet was already creeping into every corner of our lives back then. On the other hand, a fear of disease, deformity, and the failing of our own bodies is universal. "Metalosis Maligna" hits so hard for me because of how it marries the visceral horror of bodily decay with the age-old idea of modern convenience having unforeseen consequences. That it is carried out so convincingly results in one of the most disturbing seven minutes of film I've ever seen. I'll let you know if I start to sprout any metal barbs from my arm, which truly does sound like one of the more horrifying ways to die conceived by a filmmaker. [9/10]
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