Halloween 2024: October 12th

The Fan (1982)

Der Fan

It says a lot about the state of things in 2024 that many people have unironically adopted the term “stan” – from a song about a serious case of erotomania that ends with a murder-suicide – to refer to themselves. The internet unendingly accelerating every aspect of our lives has made individuals basing their entire fucking personality around their favorite singer or celeb a not atypical sight. Everyone broadcasting all their thoughts 24/7 via social media has made this behavior more visible. A new strata of quasi-celebrity “content creators” who depend on forging parasocial bonds with their followers has only increased disturbing hyper-fixations such as these. It's nothing new though, as the countless stories of celebrity stalkers since the beginning of time make clear. The push and pull between stars and their adoring public has always been a fertile ground for fiction. Eckhart Schmidt's “The Fan” – usually referred to as “Der Fan,” to help distinguish it from the several other movies with that title –  was overlooked and obscure for years. However, fancy Blu-Ray releases and revival screenings have pushed the German movie back into the critical consensus, making this “Fan” a certified cult classic. 

Simone is a disaffected teenage girl living in West Germany. She fights with her parents, skips school, and avoids eating. The only thing in life that matters to her is R., a pop singer that she adores. She writes letters to him daily, listens to his music endlessly, plasters the wall of her room with his pictures, and fantasizes about him non-stop. Eventually, upon hearing R. will be in Munich to record a television appearance, she hitchhikes to the city. Upon meeting him in person outside the studio, Simone faints from excitement. This intrigues the pop star and he invites the teenage girl into his entourage. He thinks Simone is another groupie that he can use and discard. He doesn't know that the girl is in love with him. Nor how dangerous she is.

“Der Fan” is, in some ways, the spitting image of a stereotypical, humorless German art movie. Bernd Heint's cinematography is cold and distant, Simone often appearing as a silent image in the wider tableau of cramped interiors. Notably, the script – which Schmidt adapted from his own novel – does not probe too deeply into the girl's mind. We never learn why she is so lonely that she begins to obsess completely over a pasty, blank-faced Gary Numan wannabe. It's hinted that she has a rough relationship with her parents, getting into a fight with her dad after he changes the channel from one of R.'s music videos. She has no friends in school but boys like her, attention that she rejects. Despite the lack of insight into Simone's psyche, “Der Fan” envelopes us completely in her sad, lonely world. She writes letters in her head to R. constantly, the voiceover playing across many scenes. She kisses the life-sized poster of him she's assembled on his wall. She contemplates suicide when her fan letters go unanswered. The hows and whys of her obsession are less important than the details, the frosty isolation that infects every corner of her world. 

The reason Simone's lonely existence is so compelling is largely thanks to Désirée Nosbusch's performance. She doesn't say much but her face speaks volume. Her wide, expressive eyes are infinite pools in which we can read sadness and an obsessive kind of devotion. Her body language is fragile and delicate, yet precise. The way she reclines and stretches, in a succession of form-fitting and shoulder-padded outfits, brings to mind a ballerina, a wilting flower, but also a venomous spider about to spring. Does she reject other men because she only has eyes for R.? Or is there some trauma in her past we can only speculate about? Either way, she is an endlessly compelling figure. One of the most striking images in the film takes the camera right inside her mouth, a sign of how sucked into her world we are at this point. All the heartbreak and emotion is in her face, the way she holds herself, as we move towards a sickening climax. 

Because, of course, we know what's going to happen when she meets R. The best case scenario is the pop star ignores her, causing the girl to have a mental breakdown. What ends up happening is far worst, the adult lothario taking notice of this pretty but definitely underage girl. From the beginning, there's a tension inside “The Fan,” this unavoidable feeling that all of this is going to end very badly. The minute R. makes contact with Simone, that graduates into a full-blown seasick sensation. The New Wave warbler does not have pure intention towards this starstruck girl, as rock stars rarely did towards the young fan girls at their feet. The audience knows that the rock star sees the groupie as a disposable perk of the job, a release valve he can blow the stresses of touring inside of. Simone doesn't understand that, obviously, which is where the film's quickly disturbing tension comes from.  

As bad as we fear it's going to go, what happens is so much more nightmarish. In its last third, “Der Fan” graduates from uncomfortable thriller about fandom obsession into a full-blown, grotesque horror movie. The bloody events that follow play out as a ritualistic activity, few details spared from the viewer. Without any explanation of her motives, everything Simone does makes perfect sense. She finds a way to be with R. forever, while shedding the image of herself she had created up to that point. The icy visuals, when combined with stylized eroticism and gory special effects, create an absolutely chilling finale that leaves the viewer stunned. That's before a gut punch of a final line. There's only so much one can say about the ending without ruining it. Needless to say, this is a slow burn horror film that certainly doesn't snuff out suddenly but escalates to a sickening wild fire. 

There's so much more to say about “Der Fan.” Simone's rejection of affection from other men in favor of the put-on-a-pedestal perfection she ascribes R. is a sign of a youth eager to escape the systems of control found in modern society. When the rock star turns out to be another symptom of that same system, she unsurprisingly freaks the fuck out. An early shot contrasts a photo of a crowd of people doing the Nazi salute with a poster of R. His band symbol, that Simone decorates herself with, are two stylized lightning bolts that resemble the S.S. insignia. Is Simone's blind devotion to her pop idol a commentary on how easily swayed to fascism people are? The robotic, inhuman perfection projected by so many New Wave acts do, in a sideways sense, reflect Übermensch imagery. The slowly churning soundtrack – made up of synth music from Rheingold, whose lead singer plays R. – further establishes a mood of freezing discomfort. Perhaps I'm not German enough to understand all that stuff. What I do know is that “Der Fan” contains a brilliant central performance, is orchestrated to create maximum anxiety in the viewer, and has a gobsmacking finale that I won't soon forget. I can already tell that this is a movie I'm going to be thinking about a lot in the days to come. [9/10]

Dear Dead Delilah (1972)

If you read Grady Hendrix's indispensable history of the eighties horror literature boom “Paperbacks from Hell,” you might be familiar with the name John Farris. If you're already an aficionado of written words designed to frighten, you probably already know that Farris is a perpetually underrated talent. Farris had his fair share of success, including a few brushes with the mainstream via film adaptations. The most well known of which is Brian DePalma's version of “The Fury.” That wasn't Farris' first encounter with celluloid though. In fact, the author took a hack at directing himself in 1972. “Dear Dead Delilah” would trade in the Southern Gothic tropes that Farris thoroughly explored in his writing, while being the somewhat inglorious final on-screen appearance of Agnes Moorehead. That factoid is what has drawn the film whatever minor attention it's gotten over the years. 

In 1943, in the backwoods of Nashville, a pregnant woman named Luddy would hack her mother to death with an axe. Two and a half decades pass before Luddy is released from a mental institute. A chance encounter has Luddy being hired as a caretaker for Delilah Charles, the wheelchair-bound matriarch of the squabbling Charles clan. Delilah has invited what remains of her bloodline – niece Ellen, junkie brother Alonzo, broke brother Morgan, sister Grace, and Ellen and Morgan's partners – to the decaying family estate. She announces that her passing is imminent and that no one will inherit the house. However, she has hidden 600,000 dollars – money her late father made from selling his race horses – somewhere on the plantation grounds. The infighting increases and it's not long before someone starts chopping people up with an axe. Has Luddy's murderous nature resurfaced or is the Charles brood knocking each other off? 

I don't know how John Farris ended up trying his hand at directing with “Dear Dead Delilah.” He wrote the script too. That makes me wonder if a director dropped out at the last minute, forcing the author to get behind the camera for the first time. This is also, notably, Farris' only credit as a director. It's not too difficult to see why the writer wouldn't make a second feature. Instead of a grand old gothic thriller like “Hush... Hush, Sweet Charlotte” or “The Spiral Staircase,” the film most resembles a television soap opera. “Dear Dead Delilah” is a uniformly bland looking motion picture. The movie is full of scenes of people standing in rooms, having long conversations. The camera apathetically cuts between them in medium shots, the cinematography doing little to distinguish a setting that should be atmosphere. Long stretches are without music, though the score that does appear is utterly forgettable. “Dear Dead Delilah” carries this made-for-TV feeling through to the end, where the actor's faces appear next to their names in the credits, in a way that recalls a television outro than a typical theatrical film. 

The resemblance to a soap opera doesn't end at the visual presentation either. Plot-wise, “Dear Dead Delilah” feels a lot like a melodramatic television serial. The story is devoted largely to the family members bickering among themselves. The script is full of red herrings, each of the Charleses having good reason to knock each other off. However, the movie foreshadows far in advance who the actual murderer is. It's most assuredly not Luddy. Despite the elderly caretaker always ending up at the site of the killings, sometimes holding a bloody axe, it is immediately apparent that she's being set up to take a fall for someone else. This is a good example of how thinly developed the characters are. Delilah is a hateful old biddy. Morgan is a greedy schemer, his girlfriend Buffy a brainless bimbo, the addict brother defined by nothing but his habit. The bickering is often and not distinct, the characters never proving likable or all that memorable. Naturally, this means the viewer is not all that preoccupied with who lives, who dies, and who is swinging the axe.

As a horror movie, “Dear Dead Delilah” is positioned at an interesting time in the genre. The Southern Gothic setting and the presence of an old guard icon like Moorehead recalls the hag horror thrillers that were somehow still popping up in the early seventies. The exploitation title has the same verve to it as “Baby Jane,” “Auntie Roo,” and countless others. Scenes where Delilah has hallucinations of her dead father or Luddy's slipping sanity certainly fit right in with these grotesque melodramas. However, since the plot is devoted to a large group of characters slowly being killed off, the film is something of an early slasher movie too. If you go in expecting a gore-fest, “Dear Dead Delilah” is likely to disappointed. There's a well done horseback decapitation. The finale features a surprisingly well done shotgun blast to the face. However, packing most of the carnage into the last half-hour gives a definite feeling of too little, too late. 

A clearly exhausted Moorehead hams it up but not enough to make Delilah anything more than a bitchy stereotype. Despite ostensibly being the story's protagonist, Patricia Carmichael as Luddy gives a broad and cartoonish performance. Michael Ansara provides some campy fun as the greediest brother while Robert Gentry – notably, most well known as a soap opera star – has some slimy charisma as the niece's lover. There's an amusingly silly shot of an empty wheelchair rolling out of a mausoleum. “Dear Dead Delilah” needed more ridiculous moments like that if it truly hoped to entertain more often throughout its ninety minute runtime. If you want to see an aging actress swing an axe, watch “Strait-Jacket.” If decapitations in an old building amid relatives arguing over inheritance is your thing, check out “Dementia 13.” And if you're hoping to get into John Farris, read “All Heads Turn When the Hunt Goes By.” Lurid title and bizarre poster art aside, “Dear Dead Delilah” doesn't have much to offer that hasn't been done better in other sources. [5/10]

Pet Shop of Horrors: Despair

Anime is so accessible today. Hundreds of series are available at your fingertips. When I first became interested in Japanese animation, you had to rely on whatever your local Suncoast had in-stock. A title that was seemingly always on the shelf was "Pet Shop of Horrors." Based on a long-running manga, the series revolves around Count D, the mysterious and androgynous owner of a Chinatown pet shop. He sells his frequently heartbroken customers mythical animals, usually in the form of humans. The buyers always break the rules Count D lays down for the creatures, leading to their own destruction. Though "Pet Shop of Horrors'" title always stuck out to me, I never actually watched the series. Horror anthologies are rare in anime, so given the international theme of my marathon this October, I decided to finally give the OVA a look. 

The most highly regarded of "Pet Shop of Horrors'" four episodes seems to be its third, "Despair." Actor Robin Hendrix became famous for his role in a science fiction blockbuster. However, he was typecast afterwards and has struggled to find further work. After his wife leaves him, he forms an obsession with raising reptiles. While visiting Count D's pet shop, he's sold a very rare creature: A beautiful, blindfolded woman from the waist up but a serpent from the waist down. Robin names her Medusa and soon becomes committed to the silent, alluring serpent. He is warned to never remove her blindfold but, after fumbling a high-profile audition, that's exactly what he does...

Every episode of "Pet Shop of Horrors" follows a formula. Count D's customers are always heartbroken in some way. The "pets" he sells are always human versions of mythological beasts and act as symbols of their owners' strife. Inevitably, the buyers violate the rules Count D provides and doom themselves. In the first episode, it's a pair of grieving parents who spoiled their drug addict daughter to death. In the second, it's the manager of a pop star who recently committed suicide, due to a love triangle. In the fourth, it's an up-and-coming politician and his advisor, a childhood best friend whose fate he's intertwined with. And in "Despair," it's a fading pretty boy actor. The melodrama around each protagonists' lives, and how the mythical beasts they've acquired ties into it, is always meticulously explained. Despite the brief twenty-two minute runtimes of each episode, the backstories are rarely left unelaborated on. The ironic fates their new "pets" send them towards are telegraphed far in advance, with Count D and the clueless detective investigating him often discussing the story's themes during lengthy denouncements. 

The result is a slow-paced, melodramatic series that holds few surprises. The maudlin, smooth jazz score doesn't help the pacing problems. Nor does the stiff animation and gangly, bishonen character designs. This means the show's attempts at horror are often ineffective, veering more towards weepy tragedy than macabre terror. This is also true of "Despair," Robin's obsession with his Medusa playing out more as a doomed romance than an inevitable nightmare. The episode treats their mutual destruction – revealed in the first scene, as "Despair" plays out largely in flashback – as something of a noble end for them both. 

Despite its dragging execution and underwhelming horrors, "Despair" is the best episode of "Pet Shop of Horrors." It's not as choked by melodrama as the other three, Robin coming off as somewhat likable. The finale ruminates on how stars that are considered washed-up often have their legacies secured by tragic ends, a frequently true observation about fame. Robin Hendrix's reevaluation starts at his funeral, a phenomena we observed with Michael Jackson and Paul Walker. As far as Medusas go, this one favors beauty over fear. Yet the sad monster element did appeal to me some, more so than the overcooked entanglements of the other three. The small cult following of "Pet Shop of Horrors" revolves more around the homoerotic rivalry between the effeminate Count D and the macho, blustering – but still very pretty – detective than the monster stuff. (If you're curious, the other creatures featured in the series are a flesh-eating mermaid with a siren song, a kirin that grants political power at a terrible price, and a weird rabbit girl named Alice.) The show's formulaic and heavy-handed writing, mediocre animation, and total lack of chills and thrills makes it hard to recommend. [5/10]

The Addams Family: Lurch, the Teenage Idol

Gomez and Morticia notice that Lurch hums along while playing his harpsichord, finding the melody catchy. Gomez decides to call up a record exec, who immediately loves Lurch's grumbling song. They sign to a contract and, overnight, Lurch becomes a sensation. His song is so popular that a crowd of fans gather outside the Addams mansion and the record company decide to send him on a world tour. However, this means Lurch is neglecting his butler duties, annoying the rest of the family. 

This show has managed to squeeze a surprising amount of comedy out of Lurch's dismayed moaning and corpse-like demeanor. Having the monosyllabic butler become a pop star is obviously meant to further contrast with his Frankensteinian behavior. Ted Cassidy manages to make Lurch simply cracking a weird smile, either while posing for a portrait or greeting his horde of fans, amusing. Naturally, the butler gets a bit of a swollen head about him following his newfound fame, though only Uncle Fester seems genuinely angry about their lack of service. The episode can never quite build this into a complete arc though. The last third involves a sudden case of laryngitis for the manservant-turned-crooner, a desperate bit of drama. Lurch's dilemma between his duty to the Addams and his sudden stardom is resolved abruptly. 

Despite a rushed ending and a somewhat shapeless form, "Lurch the Teenage Idol" is still amusing. Shrieking, fainting fans allow for decent set-ups. Props – like a golf ball, a boiling cauldron of newt soup, and Granmama's stick pin – pay off well enough. Probably the cutest moment has Gomez marking a spot on his wife's arm, so he can pick back up there later, or Wednesday doing the Watusi to Lurch's beat. The Beatles, Freddie and the Dreamers and (fittingly) the Zombies are all referenced, making it clear that this episode was a somewhat backhanded but ultimately harmless response to the British Invasion. Lurch's mumbling being compared to the folk movement is probably more insulting. Still, this episode is probably a little funnier than "The Munsters'" take on a similar premise. And if you don't know, there was an attempt to turn Lurch into a pop star in real life too, though it didn't resemble his in-universe song much. [7/10]

Halloween 2023: October 20th

Parents (1989)

Back in August, I drove up to New Jersey to visit a Monster-Mania convention. I did this mostly so my Mom could meet Ron Perlman. Yet Randy Quaid was also there, which surprised me. I was under the impression that he was still on the lam in Canada, running from the Star Whackers. But I had to take this chance as I'm a huge fan of Quaid's work in “Freaked.” I figured I could sneak that movie into the Halloween Blog-a-thon but, while at the con, I impulsively bought a Blu-Ray of “Parents.” I saw it years back and remember it being nothing like I expected. However, knowing that Bob Balaban's sole horror credit as a director has a cult following, I decided to give it another chance. 

Ten year old Michael moves with his parents, father Nick and mother Lily, to the suburbs. His mom is a housewife, an accomplished cook, while dad designs herbicides. Michael is a odd child, probably because he suspects his parents of doing terrible things. They are obsessed with eating meat. He walks in on them in some sort of bloody sexual roleplay, causing the boy's nightmares to intensify. As Michael begins a friendship with a rambunctious girl next door, his father begins to discipline him more. Soon, Michael grows frightened of his increasingly controlling father, afraid that his parents are secretly cannibals... And that he might end up on the menu next.

The key moment in “Parents” occurs when little Michael awakens in the middle of the night and walks into the living room. He's met with the sight of his parents rolling around, in their underwear, with blood on their mouths. The simple truth is, there are things about the adult world that children aren't able to understand. “Parents” is all about the primordial trauma of a kid stumbling upon this fact, that his parents are not perfect heroes but mere human beings, weak to the impulses of the flesh. And this realization leads to the inevitable conclusion that your parents are also capable of being actively bad people. The cannibalism in the movie is literal but it's also a metaphor for that loss of innocence. As little Michael learns more and more about his mom and dad, he is exposed to the darkest version of this truth possible. 

If “Parents” is a feature length expansion of this primal realization, that means it's a movie about a kid attempting to understand sex. Though both are young and chaste, his little friend next door seems to be slowly leading Michael down a romantic path. Sex, of course, is a matter of the flesh... And so is meat. That is a topic “Parents' is very concerned with, the film filled with images of red meat, sometimes raw, sometimes cooked, but always being consumed. It seems that his parents' lust for each other is keenly connected with their lust for meat. They are never seen eating any vegetables. Michael seems to swear off being a carnivore as the movie goes on, which amounts to rejecting his parents' life style. The film is so intensely focused on the consumption of sinew that it honestly made me – a guy who loves being a meat-eater – reconsider my diet for a minute.

Yet the most potent idea inside “Parents” is a lot simpler than all of this. Dads just suck sometimes. Early on in the film, Nick tries to be warm to his son. He carries him to bed and tells him not to be afraid of the dark. Yet even then, he's a glowering, stern-faced mountain of a man who seems both tightly wound and barely containing a burning rage. Randy Quaid could not be better cast in this role, his face almost always locked in a glare and his skin frequently wet with perspiration. He strikes the viewer as in a perpetual state of disapproval of his son. Once his status as a cannibal is slowly teased out, “Parents” becomes a disturbingly tense thriller about how far will this go. Will Nick attack his own son? It's hard to imagine a parent killing and eating his own child but... Well, we all know that it's all too plausible. With a father like Nick, it seems all but expected.

The first time I saw “Parents,” it was sold to me as a horror/comedy subverting fifties nostalgia. This doesn't really begin to describe the film's menacing, unnerving tone but it's not entirely wrong either. Balaban's film contrasts the squeaky clean wholesomeness of a “Leave it To Beaver” suburban existence with its much darker impulses. This means meticulously designed sets, with clashing wall paper and hideous color schemes, are filmed with very dark, noir-influenced lighting. Balaban then fills the film with increasingly bizarre, morbid nightmare sequences. Maybe the best of which is Michael hiding in a closet and being attacked by hands made of sausages. Yet there's a lot of images of blood, meat, shadows, and dead bodies floating around, often paired with a soundtrack that switches between discordant strings and retro jazz.

Really, the only thing that keeps me from loving “Parents” is its lead performance. Bryan Madorsky plays Michael as a perpetually sleepy kid, who is always dead-eyed and seemingly in a trance of some sort. He's weird from the get-go, never believable as a normal child, which makes his descent into this nightmarish scenario a lot harder to buy. Nevertheless, Balaban – who I think of more for his avuncular presence as an actor in Wes Anderson and Christopher Guest movies – really tapped into something here. There's even a sequence that wouldn't be out of place in a top tier Argento wannabe, of a knife slicing through a cabinet door. “Parents" is odd, disturbing, and hypnotic. Vestron sold it as a ribald horror comedy back in the eighties, which is what I expected on my first viewing. This is something altogether weirder and darker, a fascinating trip into fraught child/parent relationships. [8/10]

Belladonna of Sadness (1973)

In the early sixties, Osamu Tezuka – without question the most influential man in the medium of animation and comics in Japan – started his own studio, Mushi Production. While the studio made television series based on popular Tezuka manga, like “Astro Boy” and “Kimba the White Lion,” it also made feature films. Starting in 1969, the studio would launch the ambitious Animerama trilogy. This was a trilogy of animated films, based on classical source material, and aimed squarely at adults with explicit content. The series concluded in 1973 with “Belladonna of Sadness,” the most graphic and experimental of the three. The films were all a huge financial failure, leading the studio to bankruptcy and Tezuka to go elsewhere. Yet, in time, “Belladonna” would be re-evaluate as a lost masterpiece of animation. 

In medieval France, peasant woman Jeanne marries Jean, the man she loves. When Jean's offering of a single cow does not please the local lord, he enacts the right of prima nocta instead. Raped and humiliated, Jeanne cries out in agony. Her tears are answered by the devil himself, who promises to help her. Soon, Jeanne and Jean grow rich and prosperous. Yet their relationship sours and Jeanne becomes hated by the villagers. Satan returns to Jeanne, demanding her body and soul, but she refuses. Only after being driven out of town does Jeanne relent. She returns as a powerful witch, bringing the wrath of the Black Plague and the pleasure of Satanic lust down on the village. 

To describe “Belladonna of Sadness” as an anime is technically correct but doesn't give you a good idea of what this movie looks like. Much of “Belladonna” is made of still images, slightly abstract and at times minimalist watercolor paintings that the camera pans over. Other times, the film becomes an overwhelming kaleidoscope of psychedelic imagery. When Jeanne accepts the devil's offer, we're greeted to an acid trip of pop-art that's like a more aggressive version of “Yellow Submarine.” As wild as that moment is, it's simply a precursor to the animal-transformation orgy and the depiction of the black plague. Yet even the quieter moments of “Belladonna” feature penis-shaped devils and flowery vulva imagery. This is that kind of movie, giving us not merely one sight we've never seen before but roughly a hundred every other minute.

Yes, “Belladonna of Sadness” is not going to win any points with the easily offended. The movie begins with Jeanne being assaulted, which is depicted in artistic but graphic ways. This is only the beginning of her agony, as she spends more-or-less the entire movie being abused and betrayed by men. The film is a relentlessly artistic but unavoidably downbeat depiction of how women are commodified, brutalized, and discarded by men. I don't blame anyone for opting out of such a film. Yet there is something undeniably tragic about Jeanne existing in a time when women exist only to be extensions of the men around them. This is the world she lives in and it's why she pursues men, whether it be her husband or the devil. That submitting herself to the devil is what ultimately makes Jeanne a sexually liberated women will definitely rub many the wrong way.

Despite its less than sensitive portrayal of sexual assault and the ensuing trauma, “Belladonna of Sadness” is nevertheless an effecting portrayal of womanhood in the age of witchcraft. Jeanne being a sexually free woman is directly linked with Satanism. She defies the Christian world and the traditional values associated with her. As she introduces this way of life to the rest of the village, it outrages those in power. This makes a clear point: That witches, those burned at the stake in historical times, where always just powerful women that threatened men's status as those in control. Whether you think its final moments are earned or not, I couldn't help but find “Belladonna of Sadness” to be a powerful depiction of witchcraft through the ages and how women specifically where targeted and punished for these infractions. 

Truthfully, I'm inclined to give “Belladonna of Sadness” the biggest recommendation possible simply because it's unlike anything else I've ever seen. It's aggressively the product of the seventies, with its acid rock soundtrack that bends in directions both groovy and mournful and its somewhat antiquated sexual politics. The psychedelic animation is mind-blowing, sometimes hilarious, frequently explicit, but always amazing to look at. The mythic story reflects on culture and history in ways that I can't help but find fascinating. Obscure for years, the film would immediately become a cult favorite upon its rediscovery. I can't help but feel like I've discovered a new favorite, the kind of exciting motion picture that reminds me why I love horror, movies, and animation in the first place. [9/10]

The Twilight Zone (2002): The Pharaoh’s Curse

Compared to the other two revivals of “The Twilight Zone,” the often overlooked and rarely well-liked 2002 iteration had few well known directors behind the camera. You know things are dire when David R. Ellis and Jonathan Frakes are the most acclaimed directors on the docket. But there was one exception. That being Bob Balaban, who directed two episodes. Since I just watched “Parents,” I decided “The Pharaoh's Curse” – the higher rated of his two installments – would be a good chaser. 

The episode follows Mario Devlin, a hot shot stage illusionist known for stunts like walking through the Great Wall of China or leaping into an active jet turbine. Devlin is obsessed with the Pharaoh's Curse, a legendary magic trick that involves two men switching places while inside spinning, glass caskets. The trick is performed once a generation, when the great illusionist of the last era passes it on to the next. The last man to do the Curse was Harry Kellogg, Devlin's hero. Upon news of the magician's retirement, Mario tracks down Kellogg at his mansion. Though reluctant at first, the ailing Kellogg eventually agrees to show Mario the secret of the Pharaoh's Curse... And it's no simple magic trick.

"The Pharaoh's Curse" does have a couple of things going for it. The world of stage magic, and when it interacts with actual magik, is a fruitful setting for a tale of hubris and legacy. Like nearly every episode of 2002's "Zone," you figure out very quickly where this is headed. The supernatural twist is telegraphed far in advance and the final scene gets a little goofy. Yet the premise here does touch on a handful of tropes I enjoy and does have the classical structure of a young, proud asshole sealing his own doom.

There's also some decent casting here. Xander Berkeley plays Kellogg, limping around with a cane through the whole half-hour. Berkeley does a good job of showing his disgust at Devlin and intoning gravely about the seriousness of performing the Curse. I also enjoyed seeing Lindy Booth as Kellogg's assistant/lover, even if she is more quirky girl-next-door than femme fatale. On the other hand, Shawn Hatosy does too good of a job of making Devlin a smug, haughty jerk. He just radiates dude-bro energy and spending time with him is more irritating than interesting. That ultimately makes "The Pharaoh's Curse" more tedious than its predictable writing. Balaban does include one decent visual trick, a POV shot from Devlin's perspective as he steps out of the casket. This is one of the better episodes of the Forest Whitaker-hosted “Zone” I've seen, which says a lot more about the quality of that series overall than this particular half-hour. [5/10]

The Black Tower (1987)

Say what you will about Letterboxd but it has become a great way for me to discover things I might not have heard of otherwise. Such as “The Black Tower,” an example of architectural horror from avant-garde filmmaker John Smith. The twenty minute film concerns a man who, one day, sees a black tower in the distance from his home that he's never noticed before. He doesn't think about it much for a few days until he notices that the tower has vanished... And reappeared in a new location. Soon, the man realizes that, no matter where he goes, the tower is looming behind him. He starts to grow so fearful of the tower, that he won't even leave his house. 

Smith claims he didn't set out to make a horror movie with “The Black Tower,” saying he intended to make a comedy. Certainly nothing about the way the film is presented suggest either horror or humor. Much of the short is made up of a black screen, stationary shots of buildings in the distance, or close-up of dark walls that appear to be nothing at all, at first. The entire film is narrated by an unseen protagonist, who describes his thoughts and feelings about the tower in a very dry, detached manner. Eventually, the film starts to cut back and forth between different shots of trees and buildings, each edit accompanied by a loud noise on the soundtrack. Yes, this is another artsy-fartsy short film that delights in playing with the form and structure of cinema itself, often to the point of annoying or confusing the average viewer. 

Yet “The Black Tower's” premise inevitably bends towards psychological horror. How else would you describe the idea of being doggedly pursued by a far-away building, no matter where you go, which no one else can see? That the narrator is so calm only contributes to the assumption that “The Black Tower” depicts someone going through a mental health crisis. That he eventually ends up in a hospital certainly supports that suggestion. The ending and final scene bends even further in the direction of psychic-horror, with the feeling that the tower is some sort of malevolent entity looking to claim its victims and then moving on to its next target. 

Truthfully, “The Black Tower's” premise is loose enough that it can be interpreted as being about a wide number of things. People have seen metaphors for depression, the surveillance state, or gentrification in this short film. The former most reading makes the most sense to me but clearly “The Black Tower” is malleable. I wish it focused more on the unnerving qualities inherent in its premise and less on fucking with the cinematic art form but I think I did like this. [7/10]

Christmas 2021: December 16th

Sailor Moon S: The Movie – Hearts in Ice (1994)

I've mentioned this before but I went through a pretty big anime phase as a kid. It starred when my older sister's boyfriend brought over tapes of "Ranma 1/2" when I was probably too young to be watching them. Not long afterwards — I was in the second grade at the time — the DiC-produced English dub of "Sailor Moon's" first two seasons started to play in syndication. The show aired at six in the morning on our local WB affiliate and I would get up early every weekday just to watch it. To be frank, the leggy anime heroines awoke something in my seven-year-old soul. It's the first time I can ever remember being attracted to the female form, even though it was ink-and-pen and not flesh-and-blood. I wanted Serena or Amy or sometimes Raye and Lita (but never Mina!) to be my girlfriend, even though I didn't really understand what that meant at the time. A few years later, Cartoon Network picked up the show and began to air seasons previously unseen on American television. This included a handful of feature film spin-offs as well. Such as "Sailor Moon S: The Movie - Hearts in Ice," which just so happens to have a Christmas/winter motif. 

The plot for "Hearts in Ice" isn't actually motivated much by Sailor Moon and her teenage superhero teammates. Instead, Luna — her talking cat advisor — gets things rolling when she's rescued from traffic by Kakeru, an astronomer obsessed with the moon. He has recently discovered a comet, containing an elaborate crystal, that has fallen to Earth. The crystal is a source of power sought by an icy outer space villain, who quickly takes the name Princess Snow Kaguya. She arrives in Japan and blankets Tokyo in snow and ice, while her Snow Dancer henchwomen terrorize the populace. That's when Sailor Moon and her fellow mini-skirted superheroines leap into action to save the day.

Though animated, "Sailor Moon" drew inspiration from Japan's Super Sentai program, the series that was adapted into "Power Rangers" over here. Like "Power Rangers," "Sailor Moon" featured lots of stock footage. The audience is greeted to each of the Sailor Scouts going through their transformation sequences, becoming nude silhouettes as their uniforms appear around them. Similarly, each of the planetary-themed superheroines have special attacks, which are also shown in breathless detail. The animation grain on these scenes are obviously different from the rest of the movie, making their status as stock footage apparent. If you don't find that stuff tedious, the strictly archetypal characters may grate on you. Serene/Sailor Moon is the best fighter, despite ditziness and a love of food being her primary characteristics. Amy is the smart one, Raye is the mean one, Lita is the goofy one, and Mina is the girly one. These thin character types might actually be a benefit to the movie, since the other Sailor Scouts —  lesbian lovers "cousins" Sailor Uranus and Sailor Neptune, mysterious Sailor Pluto and Serena's daughter from the future, along with the movie exclusive characters — are also here, occupying a runtime that's only a little over an hour. It all flows smoother when you can pinpoint who these characters are quickly. 

This kind of excessively girly, highly marketable, really goofy nonsense will not be for everyone. It's definitely not entirely for me, as I found stretches of "Hearts in Ice" pretty tedious. Yet, at its best moments, this is delightfully insane kiddy entertainment. I mentioned that Luna, a talking housecat, motivates the plot. What I didn't mention is that she develops a crush on Kakeru, actively lamenting throughout the film that they can never be lovers because he's a human and she's a cat. In addition to being the object of desire of a cat, Kakeru is also a lunatic. He believes fairy tales are literally true, that the Story of Princess Kaguya means there's literally a magical princess living on the moon. When his smoking hot astronaut girlfriend, about to become the first Japanese woman to go into space, tells him this is childish nonsense, he breaks up with her. Of course, they kiss and make-up by the end. And you're just left to wonder what other insane bullshit this guy believes in, that's going to threaten this relationship. 

Part of why "Sailor Moon" was so popular on both sides of the ocean is that it appealed to both boys and girls. Girls loved the romance and the strong female characters. Boys loved the sexy character designs and ridiculous action. "Hearts in Ice" has plenty of both.  There's a number of sappy scenes involving Serena and her boyfriend Darian, who is also the hero Tuxedo Mask, as well as Luna and Kakeru's subplot. The villainess shows off lots of cleavage and acts in a cartoonishly evil manner. But I do wish the action was a little more consistent here. Princess Snow Kaguya's "Snow Dancer" henchwomen make a very annoying trilling noise all throughout the movie. The villain is ultimately defeated via very corny aphorisms about friendship and true love. Overall, "Hearts in Ice" is a little too heavy on magical plot devices and superpowered weapons to be totally satisfying. 

Part of why I maybe didn't enjoy "Hearts in Ice" more is my own thought. For nostalgia's sake, I tracked down the old Pioneer dub of the movie to watch. This was mostly composed of the same cast I heard on the DiC dub as a kid, so I figured I'd get a kick out of hearing these old voices again. That's why I used the name Serena, instead of Usagi, throughout this review. Yet this dub isn't very good, the voices mostly largely being grating and annoying. I probably should've watched the subtitled edition instead. This is what I get for giving into nostalgia. Either way, there is an undeniable kookiness to "Sailor Moon S: The Movie" that makes it an entertaining film. By the way, the sole Christmas element here is a cameo from Santa Claus, though the winter element still makes it suitable December viewing. [6/10]

Sealab 2021: Feast of Alvis

Of all the early Adult Swim programming, "Sealab 2021" was somehow the most inexplicable to me. The Hanna Barbera superhero shows, which set the foundation for "Space Ghost: Coast to Coast" and "Harvey Birdman," were fairly well remembered. (And not just because Cartoon Network showed them a lot in the nineties.) And "Aqua Teen Hunger Force" was pure surrealism. But who the hell remembered "Sealab 2020," an animated mash-up of "Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea" and "Star Trek" that ran for all of 13 episodes in 1972? Someone at Williams Street sure did and they used that forgotten flop as the basis for the strangest workplace comedy ever aired. And since the year 2021 is now nearly the past, it seems fitting to revisit the program this holiday season.

Unsurprisingly, "Sealab 2021" puts an aggressively nonsensical spin on the aforementioned holiday season. Captain Murphy regales us with the story of Alvis Tide. That would be a winter holiday commemorating the birth of the hard-drinking, vengeance-seeking, gun-toting, ham-loving savior Alvis. Murphy is trying to put on a proper Alvis pageant but problems ensue. Safety inspector repeatedly interrupt, to point out the clear ways Murphy's actions are endangering people. Mostly, the other Sealab crew, namely Debbie and Dr. Quinn, proceed to criticize Murphy for his cultural insensitivity to the non-Alvist members aboard the vessal. But a miracle soon occurs.

One of the things I most admire about “Sealab” is how hard it would always commit to the bit. In “Feast of Alvis,” the show creates an incredibly in-depth parody of mainstream religion. The episode begins with a twisted perversion of the Nativity story, in which Mary is traded out for Delia, a “comely” young maiden that arrives with a group of young men. (None of whom claim to be the father of her child.) Bethlehem is switched out for a frontier military fort, the heavenly star with a glorious white comet, and the Three Wise Men with shamans from the local Native American tribe. (Who are not referred with such politically correct terms.) This bizarre spoof extends to other religions. There are references to “Krebs,” who celebrate an eight night festival and include Alvis themselves, as well as “Shiekrahs,” who fast for a whole month. It seems most major religions, and even wicca, receive absurdist revisions here.

The best thing about how this bizarre world-building is handled is how natural it is. Like all Adult Swim shows, “Sealab 2021” was extremely low budget. Its character models were recycled from the original show. Most of the animated here is devoted to the cast talking. Yet this is hardly a loss, as listening to these characters bicker about this ridiculous nonsense in a deadpan fashion is often hilarious. “Sealab 2021” knows to keep the absurdity constantly rising too. A buffalo, fires, and microscopic fecal matter all put in appearances. That's before the miraculous conclusion too. This kind of circular silliness may not be to everyone's liking but humor is subjective, of course. For me, “Feast of Alvis” is exactly the right kind of yuletide nonsense to tickle my funny bone. [8/10]

Halloween 2021: October 3rd

Friday the 13th (2009)

After "Freddy Vs. Jason's" decade in development hell ended and the movie opened to killer box office, it really seemed like "versus" movies were going to become the next horror trend. It was enough to finally get "Alien Vs. Predator" into theaters but most of these proposed crossovers – a Freddy/Jason rematch featuring Ash, Michael Myers fighting Pinhead, the incongruous match-up of Candyman and Leprechaun – would die on the vine. Instead, another fad would soon come to dominate the horror scene of the mid-2000s: Remakes. After Platinum Dunes' remake of "The Texas Chainsaw Massacre" became a massive hit, it was only a matter of time before New Line Cinema licensed its other horror icons to Michael Bay's production company. Likely in hopes of recreating past successes, Damian Shannon and Mark Swift, of "Freddy Vs. Jason," provided the script with Marcus Nispel, of the "Chainsaw" remake, directing. The new film was a hit with audiences but remains divisive among the ever-discerning "Friday the 13th" fan base. 

Instead of adapting any of the previous movies, Nispel's film smartly combines elements from the original four entries. The plot largely draws on “The Final Chapter,” as it concerns a group of young people partying on the edge of Crystal Lake while an outsider looks for his missing sister. Jason wears a sack on his head, as in part two, before receiving his iconic hockey mask. This is not the only shout-out to “Friday the 13th Part 3-D,” as the brute is also strung up in a noose later. The climax also has a final girl fooling Jason into thinking she's his mom, another shout-out to the second movie. There's also a brief prologue, in 1980, showing Mrs. Voorhees – played by a histrionic Nana Visitor – being decapitated and little Jason discovering her body. (Why she was on a rampage if her son was alive is a question we aren't meant to ask, as in the original.) Considering “Friday the 13th's” mythology has always been built on these things happening within the established slasher formula, it was smart of the remake just to mix these different ideas together. 

As someone who has always hated most of Platinum Dunes' remakes, I went into their “Friday the 13th” with extreme skepticism. The movie is certainly not free from the studio's trademarks. Each of the actors are model pretty. Bulging pectorals, six pack abs, breast implants, and perfectly clear skin are common features among the cast. Much like Nispel's “Texas Chainsaw” movie, the visuals here are both gritty and dirty while being incredibly slick. The camera work lapses into shakiness form time to time as well. Yet Nispel's “Friday the 13th” is superior to his “Chainsaw” because it has a sense of humor and sexiness to it. The movie delights in the naked flesh of both its male and female stars, with sweaty, extended sex scenes that approach genuine eroticism. That makes the insistence on the entire movie looking like a car commercial feel more justifiable. 

As for the humor, it emerges from the ridiculous characters. Swift and Shannon's screenplay makes no attempt to resist stereotypes. The teens slip easily into understood roles: The good girl and her sexually active counterpart, the horny couple, the stoner, the prankster, the black guy. The dialogue they trade – Lawrence pretending to be offended when one of the girls assumes he's into rap music or anything that comes out of Chewie's mouth – is bad. But in an endearingly dumb way. This is also true of the hick who gets overly familiar with a mannequin and a porno magazine. The shining example of this sincere but bungled attempt at memorable character is Trent. Trent is an asshole. He's needlessly antagonistic to everyone around him. The minute his girlfriend – the somewhat charming Amanda Righetti – walks away, he's fucking the stacked blonde. (And trading dreadful dirty talk.) Travis Van Winkle embodies the “rich douchebag” aesthetic. Whether the Jason fodder is terrible or entertaining is a matter of opinion, though they're all more interesting than the incredibly bland Jared Padalecki and Danielle Panabaker as the heroic siblings.

What also distinguishes 2009's “Friday” from Platinum Dunes' other horror films is that it's actually attempting to be scary. While the company's Leatherface flicks offered nothing but mean-spirited sadism and their “Amityville Horror” piled on the jump-scares, “Friday the 13th” is trying to build tension. A topless water-skier hides under a pier, hoping she is unseen while Jason stomps overhead. This is not the only time the characters hide while the brutish killer lurks near-by. While actual suspense is never quite generated, I appreciate the attempt to create some grim tension. This is matched with some truly ferocious murder sequences. Jason slamming his machete into a guy's head or driving a fire-poker through an eye is brutal. It's a meaner breed of slashery than what the franchise usually trades in, evident in moments when Jason slowly drives a screwdriver through someone's neck or slams a body down on an axe. Yet that fits the overall aggressive tone of this Jason.

Yes, this Jason is a pissed-off brute who will do anything to exterminate the kids on his land. He lays out bear traps, dangles a sleeping bags over fire, and uses a screaming victim as bait. Considering pop culture too often reduces Jason to just a backwoods lunatic, it's nice to see the remake invest him with such a cold cunning. He's also able to get the drop on his victims via a series of underground tunnels throughout the forest, a clever explanation. (Though I question the logic in a mineshaft being so close to a lake.) Derek Mears plays Jason as a brutal force of nature, who is utterly remorseless. Even though some hockey-heads accuse the film's Jason of being out-of-character, because he takes a prisoner, the movie has the utmost respect for its masked murderer. Nispel's direction makes sure he's never less than intimidating and there's a clear sense of awe around him and his iconic mask. 

Ultimately, 2009's “Friday the 13th” is severely dumb and needlessly mean-spirited at times. Yet some atmospheric shots of the camp at night, a bad-ass Jason, some funny moments, and clever murder scenes go a long way. The producers were eager to launch a franchise and the 92 million gross, against a 19 million dollar budget, seemed to make it likely... But squabbling between New Line and Paramount led to a sequel being shelved indefinitely. A new Jason movie would then go into endless turnaround, with new reboots (including an excellent sounding take from David Bruckner) always getting canned at the last minute. With an endless lawsuit now tying up the rights, it remains unknown when a thirteenth “Friday the 13th“ will emerge. Until then, the 2009 film provides a satisfying round of bloodshed that is equal parts slick, sadistic, and goofy. If nothing else, it could've been a lot worst. [7/10]

First Men in the Moon (1964)

I've written before about Ray Harryhausen, certainly the most beloved of the special effects artists of the golden age of Hollywood fantastique cinema. My favorite of the films Harryhausen worked on are the black-and-white rampaging creatures movies he made in the fifties. Yet the series of science fiction and fantasy movies he lent his Dynamation effects to in the years afterwards are also widely beloved among genre fans... Though some of them are better remembered than others. If “Jason and the Argonauts” is a towering classic that has been endlessly referenced over the years, “First Men in the Moon” is hardly mentioned at all, even among classic monster movie nerds. Let's see if we can figure out why that is?

In 1964, the combined efforts of the United States, the U.S.S.R., and England lands on the moon. The astronauts soon uncover an aged British flag and a hand-written note, mentioned a woman named Catherine Callender and claiming the moon for Queen Victoria. The government soon track down 99 year old Arnold Bedford, the late Miss Callender's husband. He tells a fantastical story of how, in the spring of 1899, he became friends with eccentric genius Professor Cavor. Cavor has invented a substance which, when applied to an object, removed gravity's effects upon it. He has built a spherical spacecraft and intends to use his “Cavorite” to take the vessel to the moon. Arnold and his wife Catherine, quite unexpectedly, join Cavor on this journey Upon landing on the lunar surface, they encounter a race of strange insect-like aliens whose intentions are difficult to decipher. 

 

“First Men in the Moon” – not on the moon, as I often misremember it being – is most interesting as a sci-fi story about first contact between civilizations. Bedford and Cavor's approach to the moon men, known as Selenites, represents two very different ways of greeting new cultures. Cavor seeks a peaceful meeting, fascinated by the strange species, hoping to learn their ways and teach them his own. Bedford, on the other hand, immediately punches the Selenites and throws them off a bridge. Later, he begins to shoot them with the elephant gun his wife packed. It's been said before that any meeting between a primitive culture and a more advanced one will result in violence. “First Men in the Moon” boils that idea down to its two extreme, with its male explorers reacting with either total curiosity or unreasonable fear and violence. 

Unfortunately, every interesting idea “First Men in the Moon” has is undone by its frequently childish approach. The movie is badly hampered by a goofy sense of humor. Bedford is introduce to the cavorite after floating towards the ceiling, leading to some pratfalls. Cavor also has an unexplained love of geese. Later, Catherine sneaks chickens into the space sphere as a food, as they've been living off sardines the entire trip. But Cavor despises chickens. This leads to the bizarre image of the feathered fowls floating up through the sphere in slow-motion. There's also an embarrassingly broad sequence of the sphere getting tossed around space, heading towards the sun. (As always, sci-fi writers have no concept of scale.) The worst scene in the movie is, shortly after arriving on the moon, Cavor's space suit runs low on oxygen. He gets drunkenly giddy afterwards, Lionel Jeffires' performance becoming far too clownish in this moment.

Disappointingly, this lame humor is the focus of the movie's first half. The Selenites don't really appear on-screen until an hour or so into the movie. In several scenes, they are played by actors in relatively convincing rubber masks. The Harryhausen effects don't appear until a little while after that. Luckily, the last third features plenty of cool stop-motion effects. The Mooncalf, the enormous centipede-like creatures the Selenites hunt, are brought to life beautifully. There's a really cool sequence of a Selenite scientist reflecting through a looking glass, animated fluidly by Harryhausen. The finale features the chief of the Selenite, encased in a shimmering energy dome, interrogating Cavor with a distorted voice. That's a neat image. Aside from Harryhausen's typically excellent work, the movie also features some pretty cool production design. The Selenites build their underground city from crystals, making for some memorable images.

“First Men in the Moon” is definitely on the more marginal side of the horror genre. Those giant Mooncalfs, looking like an especially angry caterpillar, are fairly intimidating. Otherwise, this is a light-hearted sci-fi flick, probably mostly targeted at young kids. Relegating Harryhausen's stop-motion work to the backseat of the movie is definitely disappointing. Especially when obnoxious comedy and a slightly asshole-ish hero are in the front seat. All of these reasons and more are probably why “First Men in the Moon” is not mentioned as often as Harryhausen's other creature features from around the same time. [6/10]

Circle of Fear: Graveyard Shift

Last October, I watched an episode of “Ghost Story,” an obscure seventies horror anthology series, and enjoyed it. This year, I'm watching an episode from the second half of the series. That's when the title was changed to “Circle of Fear” and host Sebastian Cabot was dropped, in an attempt to improve ratings. “Graveyard Shift” follows Fred, a former bit player in horror movies who was forced into retirement after injuring his leg in a stunt. In order to provide for his pregnant wife, he's given a job as a night shift security guard at a soon-to-be torn down sound stage. He soon begins to hear and see strange things. His wife is affected by the haunting too, the characters from Fred's old horror movies seemingly targeting her... And their unborn child. 

The reason I singled out “Graveyard Shift,” out of the “Circle of Fear” batch of “Ghost Story” episodes, is because it stars John Astin and his real life wife, Patty Duke. Duke and Astin's obvious chemistry adds a lot more layers to their scenes together. Early moments of them cuddling and kissing gets you immediately invested in these characters, even if not much actual time is spent on their relationship. “Graveyard Shift” is essentially a story of a man in a mid-life crisis, forced to choose between his future as a father and husband or his youthful past as a star of monster movies, which comes to literal life. There's a decent amount of depth there, to the point that you totally believe Astin's character when he immediately takes the fight to the ghosts that threaten his family.

As for the supernatural element, it's just a little bit on the cheesy side. The premise, of a bunch of a fictional characters coming to life to protect the soundstage they were filmed on, is a really neat idea. The execution – which has a rubbery werewolf and a Halloween mask grim reaper rubbing shoulders as transparent spectres – leaves something to be desired. The program's co-producer William Castle drops by for a cameo, which is cool even if his character has some of the episode's worst exposition. There's also an interesting moment where a reel of film springs to life to wrap itself around Astin's legs. I don't know if “Graveyard Shift” is the best hour that could've been made from this material but it's still a fairly entertaining program. If you can excuse some of the stiffness and cheesiness that is inevitably part of any seventies television show. [7/10]

Godzilla Singular Point: Together

I've long since given up on “Godzilla Singular Point” coming to any sort of satisfying conclusion but here we are anyway. The season finale splits its story across two locations. In India, the kaiju Salunga attacks the SHIVA Compound. Deep underground, Mei and Pero-2 attempt to hack the Super Calculator and solve Aishihara's formula, before the Catastrophe begins. In Tokyo, Yun and Jet Jaguar drive into the heart of Tokyo. They plan to deliver the Orthogonal Diagonalyzer, stop Godzilla, and turn the Red Dust into its solidified form. Yet everyone is running out of time. Heroic sacrifices are made and last minute miracles are pulled off as the heroes fight to save the world.

By this point. “Singular Point” has abandoned any sense of forward momentum or character development in its story. When Yun's brother and grandfather seemingly sacrifice their lives to make sure Jet Jaguar makes it towards Godzilla, it means nothing. We no longer care about these characters, if we ever did in the first place. This is a show strictly about ideas, not people. There's no tension in the question of whether Mei and her robot friend can unravel the incomprehensible ball of physics at the convoluted plot's center. By this point, this shit is so far over anyone's head that it is indistinguishable from magic. The finale of “Singular Point” features time travel and a homage to a particular robot's Showa era size-shifting abilities. No matter how hard the script tries to justify this stuff with its nonsensical science, it can't disguise the fact that it's all a sloppy deus ex machina. 

Even in this climatic episode, Godzilla himself barely appears. It says a lot about how little “Singular Point” cares about the kaiju genre that Godzilla is just a lumbering plot device. He has no personality or sense of purpose. If he's meant to represent anything, about nuclear weapons or nature, it's lost among the show's endless technobabble. There are some neat action scenes here. Like Jet Jaguar fighting off some Rodans. Or a group of Kumonga existing as parasites on Godzilla's back. But the final fight is incredibly anticlimactic, as “Singular Point's” needlessly complex plot is resolved in a rushed, incoherent burst of information. This is a “Godzilla” anime where a cartoon dog piloting a cartoon boat backwards through time is more important than how much of Tokyo the giant monster has destroyed. 

What's most depressing about “Singular Point's” ending is that... It's seemingly not the ending! “Together” concludes by teasing the arrival of another iconic kaiju. By the way, that creature is brought to life through traditional animation. Several moments throughout “Together” abandon the gimmick of depicting the monsters with CGI. And it looks fine each time, making me wonder why they just didn't do that in the first place. Assuming the series is given a second season – I sincerely hope it is not – this ending is presumably the first of several teases before this creature actually does anything interesting. If it ever does anything.

Much like Polygon's CGI trilogy of “Godzilla” films, “Singular Point” doesn't actually care about Toho's iconic monsters or what they represent. Both “Godzilla” anime are totally preoccupied with their own deeply boring, utterly impractical lore. In some ways, I'm actually more disappointed in “Singular Point” than the Polygon movies. Those features were never going to be good, because they were about space elves or whatever. “Singular Point” actually had some promising ideas, some exciting sequences, characters that could've been endearing. Instead, everything is buried in an endless barrage of theoretical ideas that are interesting to the show runners and absolutely no one else. Whenever Toho tries to make another “Godzilla” anime, I hope they give it to someone who is actually invested in Godzilla and his monstrous gang and not just using them to tell some other story they wanted to tell. [5/10]