Halloween 2024: September 25th

Cold Prey (2006)

Fritt vilt

A road into Hollywood, for some filmmakers, has been to make a low-budget horror movie. If the project is a breakout success, the director may have a chance to prove themselves with a big budget studio project. If this really works out, you become an industry titan like Raimi, del Toro, or Wan. If you are merely extremely successful, you'll end up with Adam Wingard, Ben Wheatley, Jon Watts, or David Sandberg's careers. This isn't true only in America. Roar Uthaug is maybe the only director in Norway specializing in effects-driven spectacles. "The Wave" was an Emmerichian disaster flick, becoming the highest grossing movie at the Norwegian box office in 2016. Uthaug recently made "Troll," the country's first kaiju movie. (And, yes, he went to Hollywood too, directing the 2018 "Tomb Raider" reboot.) For Uthaug, it really started with "Cold Prey," a 2006 slasher movie that put the Nordic world on the map as a destination for genre enthusiasts. As a die-hard slasher fanatic, I've heard about this one for years and the time has come to me to finally consider it. 

Jannicke, her boyfriend Elrik, and their pals Mikal, Ingunn, and Morten drive to the Jotunheimen mountain range for a weekend snowboarding excursion. Interested in avoiding crowds, they head to an obscure, snowy region. The day of fast-paced fun is ruined when Morten breaks his leg. The group seeks shelter in a near-by abandoned ski lodge, deciding to shack up there until a blizzard passes. The building clearly has a strange history, as one room features a burnt bed and there's a stash of stolen goods in the basement. After Ingunn disappears, the group soon realizes that they've stumbled into the home of pickax wielding, masked brute. And he doesn't appreciate the company. 

Uthaug's desire to emulate Hollywood thrills was already evident in his first feature. "Cold Prey's" original title translates to "Open Season" – which a shitty CGI cartoon used first over here – but it could as easily be called "The Norwegian Pickax Massacre." Specifically, the film is emulating the 2006 Platinum Dunes version of "Texas Chainsaw." Uthaug and cinematographer Daniel Voldheim apply a washed-out, grayish-green color filter to every scene. The film has the same sense of glossy grime to it as Marcus Nispel's remake, looking more like the car commercial version of a gritty slasher flick. This is perhaps a coincidence, as Uthaug also did extensive work in commercials before directing "Cold Prey." However, his film also copies the shaky-cam and frantic editing during the chase scenes. It layers on the same type of obnoxious jump scares prevalent in that remake, a slamming door or a guy jumping out at his sweetheart being loud examples. From there, some mediocre digital effects are inserted. There isn't a lot of CGI but it's always distracting when it does appear. When you factor in the plot of road-tripping young people falling into a masked killer's lair, the similarities are difficult to ignore. The twenty-somethings aren't quite as underwear model pretty as in the Michael Bay production but the same stink is all over this motion picture. 

Being derivative is never a problem in a slasher movie, as long as all the other mechanics are charming or well done. "Cold Prey," unfortunately, never quite takes off. One thing the movie doesn't take from 2006's "Chainsaw Massacre" is the downbeat gore. In fact, the use of the red stuff is fairly restrained, a lot of the actual killing blows happening off-screen or with minimal bloodshed. The glum visual approach prevents a creepy atmosphere from building. Most prominently, a simply terrible musical score kills all tension. Every dramatic moment or attempt at suspense is undermined by a blaring, sweeping score that projects the most over-sized emotions possible on scenes that should be quiet and eerie.  Look at the climax, where Jannicke is hiding from the killer as he lurks right over her. The score goes for a very loud heroic theme here, instead of something that will build tension. Without suspense, spooky visuals, or entertaining gore effects, what does a film like this offer?  

"Cold Prey" spends more time with its cast than you might expect, given the kind of movie this is. The first murder doesn't occur until forty minutes in, providing lots of time to get to know everyone. This could've been the chance to flesh out the meat sacks into complex human beings. Instead, everyone in "Cold Prey" slots into the standard slasher bait roles. Ingunn and Mikal are the horny couple, the guy eager to get into her pants but the girl putting the brakes on. Morten is the comic relief, his introductory moment being a masturbation joke. His key scene involves struggling with a tin can. Jannicke and Elrik have some route melodrama, with her hesitating to move in with him, that does nothing to make these two seem more real or interesting. What Ingrid Bolsø Berdal, as Jannicke, does  have is a compelling physicality. Once she's fighting off the killer with his own pickax on a mountain top, "Cold Prey" finally seems to come alive... After which, it ends, the movie cutting to black the instant its climax crashes to a stop. The lack of imaginative character building extends to the murderer. A cool looking slasher can go a long way. The script clearly has some investment in the guy, hinting at a vague and tragic backstory throughout. He remains nothing more than a big dude in some furs, with a raggedy hood over his head. NECA can't make an action figure of that! 

Disappointingly, "Cold Prey" doesn't utilize its uniquely Norwegian setting that much. There's some cinematic vistas of the mountaintops but most of the story takes place inside that drab, dingy lodge. It's a real waste of wintry isolation and blowing snow. Should've copied "The Thing," instead of Michael Bay! "Cold Prey" would imitate American slasher pictures in another way too: It spawned a franchise, begetting two sequels. (The U.S. remake rights were picked up too, by WWE Pictures. Nothing has come of it, robbing us of a chance to see the Big Show hack up snowboarders with a pickax.) People tell me the second is good and it wouldn't be the first time a slasher sequel improved on the original. I'll probably catch up with that one some day but "Cold Prey I" left me thoroughly underwhelmed. Derivative in the worst ways and lacking most of the cheap thrills we associate with the subgenre, only a strong final girl and that gnarly broken leg provide a reason to watch this export. [5/10]

The Vampire (1957)

The vampire is, from any reasonable perspective, the most popular of cinematic monsters. The undead bloodsuckers might be the most commonly occurring horror archetype in all of fiction. There likely aren't many years that didn't see the release of a vampire movie of some sort. Due to the sheer number of films dealing with this subject, we've had many variations and unique takes on the idea over the decades. The films on the subject, eager to distinguish themselves from the lot, usually go with a catchy title of some sort. Others, however, choose the most generic option possible. Such as the Paul Landres directed creature feature from 1957, known simply as “The Vampire.” Despite having the most blunt title possible for a film about, well, a vampire, Landres' feature actually put a clever spin on the premise, being one of a small group of movies that attempted to drag the fanged revenants of gothic lore into the nuclear era. 

Small town doctor Paul Beecher pays a house call to his friend, biologist Dr. Campbell. He finds the man, who had been doing research on vampire bats, dying of a mysterious heart ailment. Before he passes, he gives Beecher a bottle of pills. The next night, while afflicted with a headache, Paul's daughter unwittingly gives her father one of these pills. Afterwards, strange deaths start to pop up around town. People are dying suddenly of a rare blood virus that causes their veins to disintegrate, their necks also marked with two small bite marks. The doctor soon learns that the pills are designed to regress animals backwards on the evolutionary chart. When they run out, Beecher starts to experience unusual blackouts, mood swings, and missing time. He must face the impossible, horrible possibility that he has become a vampire. 

Clearly little thought was put into “The Vampire's” title – to the point that it's not the only film from 1957 called that – the movie actually presents a clever reinvention on the traditional bloodsucking beastie. This vampire is not an undead count that crawls out of a tomb. Instead, it's the result of science gone wrong, Dr. Beecher becoming a neck-biting marauder after taking some finky pills. This puts the film in the same company as the previous year's “The Werewolf,” which similarly put a sci-fi spin on a classic monster, and the next year's “Monster on the Campus,” which had a comparable plot involving cavemen. Scientific concepts like blood diseases, viruses, and vaguely understood points about evolutionary are used to justify the classic behaviors. The result is a script that has more in common with “Dr. Jekyll & Mr. Hyde” than “Dracula.” Paul Beecher appears to be a respected member of his community, a local physician and single father that everyone trusts. He transforms into a vampire against his will, gaining a splotchy complexion and clawed fingernails when he does. If nothing else, it's a clever riff on a well-trotted premise.

“The Vampire” also reminded me of “The Hideous Sun Demon,” another werewolf variation that switched out curses for evolution-tinged mad science. In that movie, the protagonist's monstrous changes were a not-exactly-subtle metaphor for alcoholism. “The Vampire” provides the same level of thin veiling to tell a story about drug addiction. Paul gets a taste of the pills by accident. However, he soon finds himself craving them all the time. When he doesn't get a hit, he becomes moody and nervous, snapping in anger at his daughter or visibly shaking during an operation. His friends and colleagues notice this change in him but are unsure of how to approach it. He begs a nurse to stay with him after hours, hoping she can keep him from relapsing, before stealing from her purse to get his pills back. After Paul comes clean to a co-worker about his pill-popping habit, the other guy tries to lock away the substance.. Only for Paul to attack him and break the bottle out in an unhinged rage. Lead actor John Beal, shockingly good, is clearly invoking the jittery, sweating behavior of a respectable junkie that is loosing his ability to disguise his unseemly habit. That Paul has no memory of what he does when he blacks out, literally becoming a monster when he either gets his pills or goes too long without them, makes the subtext all the more obvious. 

Veteran cinematographer Jack MacKenzie, clearly in another attempt to show how modern a spin the film is on the age-old idea, shoots the movie like a film noir. When talking with a police officer friend of his, Beecher stands in an office that is crisscrossed with shadows. The scenes of Paul admitting his condition are similarly moody, the black-and-white photography creating a distinctly 1950s style of psychology darkness. This is in contrast to the earlier scenes of domestic bliss, when our protagonist is spending time with his utterly wholesome ballerina daughter. (MacKenzie would also shoot 42 episodes of “Leave It to Beaver” later in his career, which these scenes resemble.) The highlight of the film occurs when the vampire stalks the comely nurse as she walks home, before turning his attention to a nosy old woman. There's a classical eeriness to the fleeting shots of the obscured monster leaping behind a tree or peering at his prey. The sequence is surprisingly tense and the film never reaches that level of suspense again. Certainly not in the underwhelming finale, which disappointingly takes place at day. 

Also helping elevate the film is a evocative score from Gerald Friend. The main refrain, with its thumping bass melody, reminds me a bit of the “Jaws” score. Coincidence? Probably. “The Vampire” is the sort of motion picture that benefits from no expectations. Go in expecting a typical vampire movie and be surprised that this is a rather unique riff on the known cliches of the story. That repeated attempts were made in the late fifties to update these old school concepts for the atomic age is fascinating to me, revealing an unwillingness to move beyond the traditional symbols of the genre. When combined with a strong lead and some intriguing comparison between undead blood lust and drug addiction, “The Vampire” is a hidden gem for classic horror buffs. [7/10]

Beasts: What Big Eyes

By overlaying the title over an image of a roaring cheetah, "What Big Eyes" feels like it could be the first episode of "Beasts." It was actually the second-to-last to be both filmed and aired. Nevertheless, it's an intriguing summation of the series' ideas. It begins with RSPCA agent Bob Curry investigating a shady exotic animal dealer. He notices that several "Hungarian Timberwolves" have been sold to an unassuming pet shop. After looking into it, he finds the quaint shop is owned by a timid woman named Florence. It's actually her father, an eccentric geneticist named Leo Raymont, that has been purchasing the wolves. Leo is obsessed with the myth of the werewolf and believes he can scientifically replicate it. He has created what he calls a "Grandma serum" (named after the Little Riding Hood story) from the animals' blood and been injecting himself with it. Bob is disturbed but fascinated, trying to keep Raymont from destroying more wolves and himself. 

Nigel Kneale, the esteemed creator and writer of "Beasts," was fascinated with correlating mythological concepts with scientific ones. Or at least sci-fi ones. "Quatermass and the Pit" had ancient beliefs about demons inspired by medieval man experiencing psychic trauma when contacting alien lifeforms. "The Stone Tapes" explained ghostly haunting as the result of the pain of the dying imprinting on their surroundings. "What Big Eyes"  would see Kneale approaching the werewolf legend from this angle. Dr. Raymont explains that humans and wolves share a common ancestor millions of years ago, before evolutionary paths went separate ways. That the idea of the werewolf myth is a genetic "memory" of this ancient lineage. That stories like Little Red Riding Hood are another example of human minds subconsciously invoking this connection. His work seeks to awaken this long forgotten link, mostly via injecting himself with wolf's blood. As someone fascinated with folklore, especially the way unconnected cultures conceived of similar ideas, this is an interesting theory to entertain. 

Kneale, however, was also a rationalist and "Beasts" was as interested in how human nature reflects animal nature. "What Big Eyes" is also a modern updating of the mad scientist concept. Raymond is an egotistical obsessive. Like all mad scientists, he's much more interested in proving his superiority over his peers than furthering the cause. He's spent his entire life devoted to his ideas, seemingly thinking and talking about them nonstop. In the seventies, a mad scientist didn't have an Igor to assist him. Instead, that duty fell to Raymont's daughter. Who he has an irrepressible contempt for, never letting her forget that she's intellectually "inferior" to him. Unsurprisingly, a lifetime of living under such a hateful man has left Florence a deeply broken person. "What Big Eyes'" climax isn't a moment of monster movie horror. Instead, it's a heartbreaking monologue from Madge Ryan, detailing how Florence suffered all her life from her father's cruelty. The suggestion seems to be that neither legendary curses nor genetic pseudo-science is necessary to turn a man into a beast. Humans do that just fine by how they treat other living things. (A point further emphasized by the cruel way the animal trader in the first scene treats the species he imports.) 

"What Big Eyes" is full of fascinating ideas and strong acting like this. Patrick Magee and Michael Kitchen – who, coincidentally, also both starred in the "Orson Welles' Great Mysteries" episode I watched the other day – share many interesting conversations. Magee conveys the exact right level of conceited opulence as a man totally convinced of his own superiority. Kitchen makes Bob an empathetic man deeply concerned by the welfare of animals, an ideal foil.  These two talking is also almost all "What Big Eyes" has. Previous episodes of "Beasts" cleverly wrote around the show's meager budget, using disturbing sound design to suggest the beasts rather than showing them. We don't see any wolves in "What Big Eyes," other than a rather frail looking one in a cage at the end. There certainly aren't any werewolves either. The episode still accomplishes a lot with a little. If it's basically a filmed stage show between two actors, then it's a very good one. The final scene brings the title around in a tense, tragic way. This still likely ranks among the weaker episodes of this overall excellent series that I've seen, more academic than most and lacking the bone-chilling denouncements that "During Barty's Party," "Baby," and "Buddyboy" had. [7/10]

The Addams Family: The Addams Family Meets the Undercover Man

I think the "Addams Family" writers' room might have thrown together three separate episode premises for "The Addams Family Meet the Undercover Man." Pugsley has gotten into ham radio, even converted the play room into the Code Room. The nature of his messages attracts the interest of CIA agent named Hollister. He recruits the local postman, Mr. Briggs, to spy on the Addams. He's soon scared away, forcing Hollister to recruit a local plumber named Mr. Conkey next. That doesn't work out too well either, especially after Conkey encounters Kitty Kat. Out of ideas, Hollister himself steps into the Addams home and sees why everyone is so timid around these folks. 

Yes, "The Addams Family Meet the Undercover Man" is another episode devoted to a square getting an unexpected dose of the Addams Family aesthetic. In this case, it's three different squares and each one reacts predictably. Not to say there aren't some fun gags here. While snooping around Gomez's desk, Postman Briggs uncovers a roaring turtle, a chattering shrunken head, and an exploding letter from a witch doctor. There's an especially amusing bit where Morticia discovers Conkey with a Walkie Talkie in his hand. One of the best one-liners arrives when Hollister, winding up in the stocks after the Addams mistake him for a malicious spy, attempts to bribe Pugsley. The boy's response suggests the Addams have a cop buried in the neighboring cemetery. Now I'm picturing Lurch groaning out "ACAaaaaaB!" 

As sneaky as this show could get about it's subversive ideas, it was still beholden to 1960s attitudes. Not much is made of the idea that the U.S. government is spying on its own citizens like this. The Addams seem totally fine with Hollister's invasion of their privacy, once they confirm he's an actual CIA. I guess it's okay when an American does it? Still funny to imagine there being a folder on the Addams buried somewhere in the CIA's filing cabinets. Another indicator that this episode is from a different time is in the first scene. Pugsley communicates with a Japanese man over his radio, leading to a very unfortunate accent. Ah, these things come with territory, I suppose. 

Though about as standard an episode of this series as can be, "The Addams Family and the Undercover Man" is elevated somewhat by the guest stars. Rolfe Sedan and the very Don Knotts-ian Norman Leavitt are both funny fellows as the postman and the plumber. They don't make sitcom actors like those two anymore, who can get a laugh with nothing but a cockeyed expression. George Neise, as Hollister, also makes a decent straight man, especially when he comes face-to-face with Lurch. The final scene features the expected running gag, of someone's experience with the Addamses scaring them into a different line of work. More notably, the scene also features Gomez and Morticia enjoying a hookah together. Now am I to believe that the Addams are smoking mere tobacco here? I think marijuana is too mundane for them too. Let's assume it's some sort of exotic, probably poisonous strain of herb that would turn a normal person's hair grey after a single puff. [6/10]

OSCARS 2023: Living (2022)

White people have a proud tradition of ripping off Akira Kurosawa movies. Whether it's “The Magnificent Seven” moving “Seven Samurai's” story to the wild west, or “Star Wars” basing a few characters on “The Hidden Fortress,” the Japanese master's work has provided inspiration for years now. I guess if you're going to steal, steal from the best, right? Kurosawa himself had that philosophy, what with “Yojimbo” being inspired by “Red Harvest” and his numerous riffs on Shakespeare. The cycle continues this year with “Living,” a riff on Kurosawa's “Ikiru.” (Which itself drew inspiration from Tolstoy's “The Death of Ivan Illych.”) “Living” was actually pushed into development by a Japanese author, acclaimed novelist Kazuo Ishiguro providing the script. That level of prestige no doubt contributed to the movie's critical success, which is probably how it received two Academy Award nominations.  

Rodney Williams is an elderly English fellow, working as a low-level bureaucrat in 1950s London. His unassuming life is interrupted when he's given a terminal cancer diagnosis from his doctor. Stunned, he decides not to tell his son and considers suicide. Instead, he withdraws half his life savings and stops going to work. Deciding to “live a little” before his life ends, he goes out for a night on the town with a young writer he meets and takes a much younger former co-worker out to lunch. With his remaining time slipping away, Williams decides to contribute a little bit of good to the world before he passes on, something his colleagues reflect on after the fact.

Based on its plot synopsis and the Academy's general taste, I expected “Living” to be a soft and sweet little British film. This is not a totally incorrect presumption yet I was still a bit taken aback by how quiet and considerate “Living” is. There's several long stretches without any dialogue at all. Instead, the film focuses on Bill Nighy's face as he thinks about what the right course of action is, whether it's internally debating whether to tell his son or his reaction after his younger friend takes him to an exotic dancer. The musical score is quiet and not intrusive. Music actually plays a vital role in “Living,” as there are several notable moments devoted solely to Williams warbling off folk songs. This is a movie full of sighs and long pauses, especially concerned with the weight of quiet conversation and the consequences of our actions.

Bill Nighy is one of those beloved character actors, always reliable to bring a little bit of class or energy to a movie, no matter how dire it might be. I certainly associate him more with scene-stealing, sarcastic comedy – in projects like “Love Actually” or “Shaun of the Dead” – than I do serious dramatic roles. Yet “Living” is a display for Nighy's considerable skills as a performer. Nighy says  a lot just with a look or his body language. You totally buy him as an old man, at the end of his life, considering whether he's wasted the time he has or what kind of legacy he'll leave behind. You definitely buy him as an old man, so consumed by his daily routine that he's forgotten about the impact he can make. When Nighy gives a wry little chuckle or a small smile, it's really earned. This is most evident during the frequently delightful, often deeply melancholic scenes he shares with Miss Harris, the younger co-worker you suspect he has a bit of a crush on.

I was a bit caught off-guard by “Living's” structure. I don't think it's a spoiler to say that Williams dies before the film is over, though it happens with about a half-hour left to go. Instead, the final act of the film is devoted to his former co-workers and family members reflecting on the man's life and the effect he had in his final weeks alive. The conclusions they draw are maybe stated a little too plainly. Sometimes, it feels like “Living” is stating its themes and points directly to the audience, instead of showing it through the narrative and interactions. But it's an awfully nice message. “Living” ends things in a very sweet place, touching the audience without being too sappy or maudlin about things. 

I've never seen “Ikiru,” so I can't compare “Living” with it directly. From what I've read, this is a respectful remake, if perhaps a little too wispy. Nevertheless, I'm glad I watched it. Nighy gives a wonderful, gentle performance and I'm happy it got some recognition from the Academy. It's a handsome production, with nice costumes and thoughtful cinematography. I'm glad that contemplative projects like this can still get made and seen on a wide basis. “Living” doesn't break any new ground but it made me smile, made me a little sad, and made me think about some stuff. Sometimes that's all you need. [7/10]

OSCARS 2021: The Father (2020)

2021 is, obviously, going to be remembered as an atypical year at the Oscars. The film landscape being what it is right now, when combined with on-going changes in the Academy, has resulted in a pretty offbeat slate of films. Yet some things resonate no matter what. “The Father” is probably the most traditional of the nominated movies this year. It's an adaptation of a respected stage play by its equally respected writer, starring one of the most respected actors of our time and other award-winners. It's a film about aging and mental illness, which are always weighty topics to tackle. While more prestige than many of its fellow nominees, that doesn't mean “The Father” doesn't take some risks of its own. 

Anthony has dementia. Following a disagree with a caretaker, he's come to live with his daughter Anne and her husband. Anne does her best to care for her ailing father but it's a struggle. She debates with her husband about putting him in a nursing home, while attempting to bring a new caretaker into the home. Meanwhile, Anthony lives in his own memories, an uncertain mixture of the past and the present. More traumas, that have past and will come to pass, unfold as the story reveals itself.

“The Father” is most admirable for the way it takes us inside the mind of someone who has dementia. Most of the world unfolds from Anthony's point-of-view. The film covers a wide period of time but seems to play out over the course of a single day. Morning becomes evening and back again, a chicken dinner seemingly always being prepared. Anne is played by two different actresses, with other characters changing appearances from time to time. Another daughter, always unseen, is repeatedly referenced. Events that will happen and haven't happened yet are referenced interchangeably. The viewer is never entirely sure of where they are or what's happened exactly, putting them in the same situation as Anthony. He fixates on his watch, determined not to loose track of time... But he's long since passed that point. It's a novel, and bracing way, to replicate the effect of the mental illness.

A movie like this would typically be told from the daughter's perspective, as attempts to care for her sick dad. We see that side of the story sometimes too. After an argument with her father, she dreams about smothering him with a pillow. It's an understandable feeling, as Anthony isn't easy to deal with. He's argumentative. He tells outrageous lies about himself, that he was a dancer or a circus performer in the past. While being introduce to his new caretaker, his mood turns from jovial to intimidating on a dime. It's frustrating, watching someone you love, someone you look up to, fall apart like this. It makes the rare moments of clarity – when Anthony thanks her for everything she does, after helping him get his shirt on – all the more meaningful.

The reason Anthony Hopkins shares a first name with his character is because the part was written for him. (Director Florian Zeller has admitted that, if Hopkins had turned the role down, the movie wouldn't have been made.) On one hand, Hopkins occasionally sheds the sense of refined sophistication that has always been his trademark. When Anthony is suddenly slapped, an incident that may or may not have actually happened, the sense of shock and confusion feels totally real. At the same time, Anthony Hopkins is always Anthony Hopkins. When he starts ugly-crying, babbling about loosing his leaves or missing his mommy, it feels like acting. Hopkins does best when playing up the confusion and orneriness of the old man, not the vulnerability so much.

Any time a stage play is adapted to the screen, there's the issue of making the material cinematic. You can certainly tell that “The Father” was based on a play. Most of the movie is set inside a few rooms. The script is largely composed of terse conversations between the different characters. Yet director Zoller ultimately makes “The Father” feel like a movie. The subtle way he indicates Anthony's perception of time, by changing the sets in small ways or the use of color, is impressive. A dream sequence, set inside a hospital – which the lead character barely perceives as different from reality – is especially effective. 

“The Father” works best when translating how dementia affects someone to the screen. I've never seen the disease communicated in such a way before and it's very effective. It makes the film an emotionally bracing, unnerving experience in spatial disorientation. As a vehicle for Hopkins, it shows that the actor can still give a fine performance when asked to. (Even if someone more willing to get their hands dirty might've been better.) Olivia Colman and Imogen Poots also give laudable performances. It's a strong film, packed with some major emotion, even if it could've been even better with a few small changes. [7/10]

OSCARS 2020: The Two Popes (2019)

Not that long ago, it seems, I was talking about how reluctant certain parts of the Film Establishment was to accept anything from Netflix. There was quite a lot of debate over whether a movie made for a streaming service, even if it played briefly in theaters first, “counted” as a serious film or not. Now, in 2020, Netflix is all over the Academy Award slate. Seven films from the streaming titan are nominated, including two for Best Picture. If you want a clear view of the corporation's power with Academy voters, look no further than “The Two Popes.” Owing to its soft reviews and general lack of buzz, the film probably wouldn't have gotten any award attention at all if Netflix wasn't so ambitious and so good at campaigning.

In 2005, Pope John Paul II died. In the voting process to find a new pope, the decision seemingly comes down to two: Reformist Jorgue Bergoglio from Argentina and the traditionalist Joseph Ratzinger. Ratzinger would, of course, win the vote and become Pope Benedict XVI. In 2012, Bergoglio has returned to Argentina and is considerably retiring. Benedict, meanwhile, has proven a controversial leader. Most recently, the child molestation scandal has put the Pope's reign under serious scrutiny. Bergoglio and Ratzinger meet in the Pope's private residence to ostensibly discuss his retirement but other topics quickly come up. Benedict and Bergoglio discuss their own pasts as the Pope tries to convince the Archbishop to take his job.

“The Two Popes,” unsurprisingly, mines the political differences between the two men for quite a bit of drama. While meeting at the Pope's private castle, they discuss the issues that people pressed Benedict the most on. (Namely, the role of homosexuals in the church and the sex abuse cover-up.) This serious political element of the story soon turns towards covering the future Pope Francis' past, specifically the guilt he feels over his actions and inaction during the military coup in Argentina in the 1970s. This leads to several lengthy flashbacks, sometimes causing the character to deliver bald-face exposition. This is a little awkward, it must be said.

While “The Two Popes” is clearly a serious film with a lot of very heavy topics on its mind, the movie works best when humanizing its Popes. Pope Benedict is forced to wear a fitness tracker, the old man being told by a chirping voice to get up and walk. The two men are frosty towards each other, until they start to bond over music. If you think seeing Pope Benedict play the piano or talk about the Beatles is surreal, the film does one better by then having him watch his favorite TV show: An apparently real program about a dog who is also a police detective. Later, the future Pope Francis even gets Benedict to eat some pizza. There's definitely some humor in seeing figures as noble and high-in-stature as the popes indulging in such common activities. Yet, when paired with some touchingly direct conversations about the nature of faith, it goes a long way towards making these towering figures into real people.

“The Two Popes” was directed by Fernando Meirelles, one half of the pair that made the critically acclaimed “City of God.” I never have caught up with that modern classic, or any of Meirelles' other films for that matter, but this one gives me a good idea of what they must be like. The film frequently utilizes hand-held camera work and shaky zoom-ins on its performers, attempting to add a documentary-like verisimilitude to the story. Sometimes, the film utilizes far up camera angels, to contrast with the more intimate close-ups on his actors' faces that crop up more frequently. It's pretty evident what Meirelles was trying to do. Obviously, the hope was to take a story mostly composed of two old guys sitting in rooms talking and make it more cinematic.

Considering the content of the film, it's not surprising that “The Two Popes” is largely an actor's film. Anthony Hopkins, who looks shockingly like Pope Benedict with just a little make-up, nicely balances a crotchety sense of authority with a feeling of lost purpose. He's even somewhat gentle and funny, when given the opportunity. Jonathon Pryce has the less obviously showy part as Francis. This works in Pryce's favor, as he's allowed to say a lot with simply his eyes and his posture. Watching these two play off each other is frequently a delight, in the way watching two expert actors do what they do best is.

In the grand scheme of things, especially in a year with so many notable snubs, did “The Two Popes” really deserve three Oscar nominations? Probably not. It's an affable enough film, worth seeing for a few key moments that really entertain. Hopkins and Pryce give lovely performances but neither are so good as to really deserve being singled out, in a year full of many better choices. Still, I'm glad I watched the movie, if only so I can forever have the mental image of Pope Benedict laughing while watching a dog/cop show. (It may not surprise to read that the two Popes' friendship did not end on such a comfortable note in real life. Thus is the magic of Hollywood.) [7/10]

OSCARS 2018: Darkest Hour (2017)

So much of Oscar Season is driven by narratives. The critical body makes up their mind about something early in the season and hold on to it through the weeks leading up to the ceremony. Sometimes these predictions come to pass, sometimes they don't. Last year, the narrative was that “La La Land” was the unstoppable Best Picture winner. Two years ago, it was that Leo DiCaprio was finally going to win an Oscar for “The Revenant.” This year, an award season with few clear consensuses, the prevailing narrative is that Gary Oldman is going to win a statue for “Darkest Hour.” (The definite article was left off presumably to avoid confusion with that sci-fi movie from 2011 absolutely no one saw.) Will this come true, like Leo's win, or will things take an unexpected swerve, as it did with “La La Land?” Well, I guess we'll find out in a few weeks.

“Darkest Hour” is the token historical biopic among this year's Best Picture nominees. The latest from Joe Wright concerns Winston Churchill. It begins in 1940, when British Prime Minister Neville Chamberlain is forced to resigned, following Nazi Germany pushing the rest of the continent into war. Churchill is chosen to assume the role of P.M. It's not an easy choice. Churchill faces opposition from all sides. As he refuses to consider peace talks with the encroaching German and Italian forces, he faces the possibility of resignation himself. As the war grows more heated, and England itself becomes a target, Churchill finds himself questioning his own choices.

Like many Oscar bait-y biopics, “Darkest Hour” is essentially a delivery system for an impressive lead performance. Yes, Gary Oldman acts his ass off as Winston Churchill. He very much disappears into the role and is totally unrecognizable. The strong make-up transforms him totally into the historical Churchill. Oldman's acting both humanizes the Prime Minister while playing up his mythic standing. We see Churchill yell at his secretary, bicker with his wife, drinks too much, wears a robe a lot, and stumbles out of the bath. Oldman gives Churchill a nasal, reedy voice, in contrast to the blustery, bulldog accent Churchill is usually depicted with. For these humanizing elements, Oldman also gets moments of huge emotion. Churchill's refusal to concede the possibility of defeat to the Nazis, his emotions boiling over in a meeting with his cabinet, is stirring and emotional. So are the expected scenes where he makes big speeches to British Parliament. I have little doubt Oldman will win his Oscar. This is exactly the kind of performance the Academy loves. It's pretty good, I'll admit.

Surprisingly, “Darkest Hour” is more of a chamber drama than a proper war movie. I suppose the title led me to believe that the film would deal primarily with the Blitz, when the British Isles were bombarded by bombs by the German air force. Instead, “Darkest Hour” primarily takes places before this time. In an interesting coincidence, the film covers much of the same historical period as “Dunkirk” but from the other shore. In both films, the German forces are kept primarily off-screen, a threat that is spoken of more than seen. “Darkest Hour” is really about Churchill's refusal to back down from his opponents. What would normally be a stubborn politician refusing to budge is put in a very different context here. “Darkest Hour” shows Churchill standing up against the evil of Hitler and the Nazis. He's shown as a populist hero, riding a subway train and changing Parliament's opinion by speaking for the common person. Someone better attuned to British history would have a clearer opinion on this but, to me, it plays as pretty idealized.

“Darkest Hour” is the latest from Joe Wright. Aside from outlinears like “Hanna” and “Pan,” historical dramas like this are Wright's bread-and-butter. His visual approach is sweeping and smooth as fuck. Corresponding to the title, he often shoots his cast members in dark rooms. There's a painterly quality to these images, such as when Churchill, as the newly minted Prime Minister, first meets with King George. He employs low, natural-seeming lighting. Wright also throws in some really grand motions. As German planes fly overhead, his camera cranes higher above the British countryside. At one point, we pan from Churchill's inner chambers to an exploding battle field to the face of a dead soldier. The director also flashes large dates on-screen throughout. This kind of approach is catnip for me, flashy but not overdone. This is a really good looking movie.

“Darkest Hour” does not truly rise above the cliches and common tropes of award season, prestige biopics. It's pretty much exactly the kind of movie you expect it to be. However, within those parameters, the movie does fairly well. Oldman's performance is excellent, Wright's direction is strong. Dario Marianelli's score is also very good, full of strong themes and rumbling atmosphere. (Marianelli's work didn't earn a nomination, probably because of how fierce competition was in that category this year.) In an exciting Oscar season, this is the kind of film that fades into the background a bit but I still managed to appreciate it some. [7/10]

Halloween 2017: October 15

Flatliners (1990)

The greatest mystery is the question of what happens to us after death. Whether your an atheist or devout, you've probably wondered what awaits us beyond this life. If the entire foundation of the horror genre is humanity's common fear of the unknown, death is surely the greatest unknown of all. Obviously, this is a topic that has come up many times in horror movies. One film that dealt directly with this premise was “Flatliners.” The movie would become a decent sized hit in 1990, mostly due to being the first Julia Roberts movie released after “Pretty Woman” made her a household name. It's cast full of known names made it a regular presence on cable. I've seen parts of the movie on TV many times over the years but this is the first time I've sat down to watch the whole movie from start to finish.

Medical student Nelson Wright has touched upon a deadly experiment. He will intentionally induced heart failure, leaving the person in a state of death for several minutes, before they are revived. This, he figures, will allow the individual a peak at the afterlife. He uses himself as the first test subject. The result is so impressive that he talks three of his friends – Rachel, Dave, and Joe – into also participating in the experiment. At first, the results are invigorating. However, the group of four quickly begin to experience strange side effects. Figures from their past begin to haunt them, even attacking them. Now, the group must unravel the reasoning behind these events.

“Flatliners” has a premise with great potential. What if someone really did get a peak at the afterlife and found something horrible there? Disappointingly, the film doesn't really tackle this question very much. Dave is an atheist but quickly drops this philosophy after one near-death experience. “Flatliners” boils the afterlife down to one simple idea: While “dead,” the characters simply flashback to their youths. They are shown their most haunting memories. And those memories are pretty underwhelming. Rachel sees her suicidal father's dead body, which is pretty upsetting. Dave simply sees a girl he bullied as a kid and Joe sees the women he's manipulated. Nelson is also haunted by a kid he made fun of as a youth, which is linked to a disturbing memory. But as far as traumatic past events go, these are pretty lightweight. Perhaps "Flatliners" should've been about older characters, who have experienced more horrors. By focusing on young people whose lives are just beginning, the script paints itself into a vanilla corner.

The way the flatliners' guilt manifest themselves simply aren't scary either. Rachel briefly sees her dad as a corpse, which is a decent scare. Dave, meanwhile, has the little girl appear and call him names. Joe's conquests – women he recorded having sex with, without their consent, which definitely makes him a sexual predator of some sort – simply appear and say pick-up lines to him. Nelson, meanwhile, is repeatedly beaten up by a small child. If you want to establish your protagonist as worldly and experienced, don't repeatedly show him getting defeated by a little boy. This is the wimpiest attempt at horror I've seen recently. The way the characters resolve their issues, by making peace with their literal and metaphorical ghosts, is incredibly sappy. Joel Schumacher's direction, which is heavy on the cool blue colors and religious iconography, does little to improve their scenes of debatable horror.

As I said, I think “Flatliners'” cult following is mostly owed to its cast. Each of the main characters are played by then-popular performers. Kiefer Sutherland plays Nelson as someone totally sure of his discovery that slowly cracks up as the story progresses. Sutherland is in his comfort zone here and does fine. Kevin Bacon probably has the juiciest character arc as Dave, an atheist who becomes a believer. However, the film undersells this growth so much that Bacon is left to brood and growl. Daniel Baldwin has always been one of the greasier Baldwins, an attribute well used in the role of Joe. Julia Roberts probably gives the best performance in the film, as someone directly confronting her childhood trauma. You do feel for her a bit, as she's put through the emotional wringer. Oliver Platt, a talented actor, is stuck in the role of an over-analytical know-it-all. Considering Platt's character never undergoes the near death experiment, I don't even know why he's in the story.

I get the feeling that “Flatliners” is a horror movie made for people who don't like horror movies very much. The horrors are totally weak and defanged. The presentation is music video pretty. The cast is full of heartthrobs and sex symbols. It's inoffensive and safe, neither of which are good qualities for a horror film to have. It's a decent film to play in the background while you do laundry, which might explain its long life as a schedule filler on cable. James Newton Howard's score is pretty, I'll give it that much. As I said, the premise has a lot of potential. Perhaps a remake will come along that exploits that? Mmmm... [5/10]

The Stone Tape (1972)

I never really know what to expect from classic British sci-fi and horror. I love most of the things Hammer produced. “Ghostwatch” gets scarier every time I watch it. Yet I have never been interested in “Doctor Who.” Nigel Kneale's “Quatermass,” very well respected in certain circles, have always left me cold. So it was with some trepidation that I approached 'The Stone Tape.” The TV film, part of the BBC's long running ghost stories for Christmas series, supposedly traumatized a whole general of kids when it first aired in the early seventies. The premise certainly intrigued. However, the film also came from the pen of Kneale, making me uncertain of what to expect. Time to stop hesitating and just watch the damn thing.

Ryan Electronics is moving into a new facility at Taskerlands, a mansion in the British countryside. The oldest room, in the basement, was built with stones dating back to the Medieval period. Peter Brock, the research team manager, hopes to create some tape recording technology that will impress his boss. Instead, Jill, a computer programmer, discovers a ghost in the basement. As the research team investigate the haunting further, they begin to believe that the ghosts aren't the spectres of the dead. Instead, they float the theory that ghosts are like recordings, made on the ancient stones. Their attempts to exploit this discovery for financial gain does not work out for them.

A reoccurring theme throughout Kneale's work is the crossover between ancient mythology and modern technology. For one example, “Quatermass and the Pit” had a subway tunnel uncovering aliens that were the basis for old beliefs in demons. “The Stone Tape” also explores this idea. The film attempts to explain ghosts, one of the oldest of all legends, with then cutting edge science. The story's central concept – that ghosts are past events imprinted on the surrounding environment, like video recorded to a tape – is a tantalizing one. (So tantalizing that it's even been adopted by some real life parapsychologists.) We also learn that the castle was built upon an even older haunted patch of land. So modern horrors are just variances on even older stories. This dynamic, of the ancient and the modern, is present in the basic outline of the story. “The Stone Tape” is all about people filling an old castle with what passed for high-tech computers in 1972.

“The Stone Tape” has the production values you'd expect from the BBC in the seventies. In addition to the bell bottoms and muttonchops, the special effects look pretty cheesy to modern eyes. The film takes place mostly in one location. It's a pretty good location though. The modern hallways of the castle are cold and sterile. The basement, which maintains the original stone, is moldy and aged. It's the perfect place for a haunting. Some of the film's spookier events still provide chills. A ghostly apparition appearing at the top of the stairs is a little overdone. More impressive is a scene where Brock, walking into the stone room, only hears the ghostly screams. A moment where red eyes appear in the darkness is genuinely creepy. The climax, involving green spectres rising up out of the stone, borders on the campy. Yet there's some delightfully spooky about these creaky, old fashion special effects.

“The Stone Tape” definitely has some effectively creepy moments. A lot of it is still awfully dry in the same way Kneale's “Quatermass” films were. There are long scenes devoted to characters standing around in rooms, talking about events, instead of doing them. Far more time is spent talking about recording technology, of beating rival Japanese developers to major discoveries, than you'd probably prefer. There are long scenes of people trying to capture footage of the ghosts. This involves playing annoying noises inside the stone room and carrying around this ridiculous megaphone thing. Those scenes go on far too long. The kinship between the main characters are kept too stately as well. The exact details of Brock and Jill's relationship are a bit hard too read.

Some of the problems I had with “The Stone Tape” I totally anticipated. Like I said, if you're going to watch a movie that was made for British television back in the seventies, keep your expectations in check about special effects. If you overlook that, as well as the inherent dryness of the material, you'll find “The Stone Tape” to be pretty creepy. I can certainly see why kids, watching this back in the seventies, would be so affected by it. The ideas are fascinating and the proceedings are atmospheric. It's no “Ghostwatch” but I'm glad I gave it a look. [7/10]

Fear Itself: Echoes

I've seen every episode of “Fear Itself” before. When the DVD set came out, I bought it to complete my "Masters of Horror" collection. However, upon this rewatch, “Echoes” was the only episode I had absolutely zero memory of. It was directed by Rupert Wainwright, whose dubious horror credits include “Stigmata” and the godawful remake of “The Fog.” “Echoes” follows Stephen, who has just recently bought an old home. His female friend, Karen, is helping him move in. Stephen has romantic feelings for Karen but is too shy to make the first move. After his first night in the house, he begins to experiences memories from a past life. He recalls the life of Maxwell, a gangster who owned the house in the twenties. Maxwell murdered his girlfriend, Zelda. As Stephen digs deeper into the past, he realizes Karen looks a lot like Zelda. And he fears that history will repeat itself.

“Echoes” is very predictable. From the moment the story starts rolling, you know exactly where it will end up. Having said that, the ideas presented here appeal to me. People being caught in an inescapable cycle of events, especially when its connected to their past lives, is a theme I've explored in my own writing. “Echoes” hits every beat you'd expect. Stephen becomes more violent as the events of Maxwell's life start to influence him more. Yet it rolls along at a decent pace. Basing the episode around an unrequited romance is a nice touch, making the tragic outcome of Stephen and Karen's relationship more complex. It helps that the performances are solid. Aaron Stanford is likable and properly freaked out. Camille Guaty is lovely and has a nice energy as Karen/Zelda.

Sadly, “Echoes” ends up feeling very ho-hum. A subplot involving a psychologist goes absolutely nowhere. Stephen's exact connection to the past, whether it's just reincarnation or some sort of possession, is never sussed out. Instead of being a deliberate element of ambiguity, it just feels sloppy. Wainwright's direction relies far too much on shaky-cam. Near the end, the script starts to cycle through underdeveloped ideas to pad out the time. Did Stephen and Karen sleep together? Is Karen sleeping with every guy she knows? Did Maxwell and Zelda kill each other? It doesn't come together into a satisfying whole. At the very least, “Echoes” doesn't have a lame twist ending, like every other episode of this show. It's very nearly a decent hour but collapses once again into mediocrity. [5/10]

Conventional (2015)

As I've written about many times before, I've been to quite a few horror movie conventions. This is why I became interested in “Conventional,” a ten minute long short, starring and directed by Karen Gillan. Gillan plays Rachel Milligan. Milligan once starred in a slasher film called “Axe Wound 2.” Since then, her career has floundered. Now, in order to make end's meet, she makes regular appearances at conventions. She signs the same old glossies for fans dressed as Stu Mac, the film's axe wielding killer with a pageboy hair cut. She answers the same old questions at Q&As. She repeats the same phrases while pausing for photographs. The repetition, and the sense that her life is falling apart, is starting to get to her.

Usually, nerd conventions are portrayed unfairly in film and television. “Conventional” falls into this trap a little. I've never seen that much identical cosplay at one event. Otherwise, the film accurately captures the atmosphere. The first scene has Rachel signing an autograph for one devoted fan, while another guests has a much longer line. She feigns enthusiasm during the panel, while answering softball questions like “What does horror mean to you?” Gillan wears a ridiculous pair of fake lips in the short, showing that Rachel has had some ill-advised plastic surgery recently. That sense of sad desperation, of putting on a happy face while feeling like a has-been, I've seen that before. I wonder if this is the kind of thing horror convention regulars – your Adrienne Barbeaus and Kristy Swansons – think and feel all the time.

Mostly, “Conventional” is built around an impressive performance from Gillan. In the first half of the short, she hints at the depression the character feels while hiding behind a chipper smile. After hitting rock bottom – hooking up with a fan boy in the hotel bathroom – she cracks up. Gillan delivers an amazingly raw monologue to a half-empty panel room. Rachel goes on about feeling like a failure, saying how she lies about having new projects in development. How she struggles to find meaning in her life. She's tasted fame but it was fleeting. Now, she will do anything to recapture just the faintest reminder of that feeling. There's a dark humor to this scene, like Gillan spouting off a line about being “Bloody Disgusting's Babe of the Year,” but mostly it's a brazenly honest portrayal.

“Conventional” isn't just a film about horror movies, as it features a bloody murder in its final minutes. However, that last step almost feels unnecessary. The short is an impressive debut from Gillan. It's darkly funny, intensely sad, and insightful about a corner of nerd culture that can, let's face it, get a little pathetic at times. I'm sure, being a “Doctor Who” graduate, Gillan's been to more than a few conventions. However, considering her continuing role in a major Marvel franchise and the obvious talent she displays as a writer and director, she will probably won't end up like Rachel Mulligan. [8/10]

Halloween 2016: October 23

You’re Next (2011)

Back in 2013, I barely knew who Adam Wingard was. “A Horrible Way to Die” had been recommended to me a few times but I still haven’t caught up with it. I had seen the first “V/H/S” but Wingard’s framing device was one of the less memorable parts of that anthology. The advertising campaign for “You’re Next” made it look like another dreary home invasion flick. In other words, I went into the film with few expectations. Which may be the best way to watch it, as “You’re Next” delights in upturning audience expectations. Now, I’m a big fan of Adam Wingard, considering him our post-modern John Carpenter. That transformation began here.

Crispin rides to a family dinner, built around celebrating his parents’ thirtieth wedding anniversary. His Australian girlfriend Erin tags along. Once they arrive at the family mansion, Erin sees firsthand how dysfunctional Crispin’s family is. His brothers, Drake and Felix, clearly resent him, often getting into arguments. His sister, Aimee, is clearly the favored child. Mom is wrecked with anxiety, popping multiple pills. Family squabbling is interrupted when a crossbow bolt crashes through a window, killing Aimee’s boyfriend. Three men in animal mask enter the home, attacking and killing the family. But Erin gives them something they didn’t expect.

The home invasion flick was fairly played out by 2013, when “You’re Next” finally received a wide release. The likes of “Funny Games,” “The Strangers,” and “The Purge” had already come and gone. “You’re Next” plays out like a standard member of the subgenre, Wingard adding a little more slasher for seasoning. The first attack scene builds nicely, only one person noticing something outside before receiving an arrow to the forehead. There’s some other clever gags, like a length of razor wire strung outside a door, waiting for someone to run into it. The slasher elements emerge from the attackers wearing distinctive mask, a nice touch. A machete and axe come into place, utilized in bloody throat slittings and head smashing. Wingard’s visual design is a bit shaky, an attempt to build tension that doesn’t quite work.

Had “You’re Next” continued down this path, it would’ve been a decently constructed but widely uninteresting flick. Screenwriter Simon Barrett has other plans. Erin, it turns out, isn’t your typical final girl. She was raised by survivalists and is totally prepared for an attack like this. She knows exactly what to do, guarding perimeters and handling wounds. She brutally dispatched one of the men, cracking his knee and then his head with a meat tenderizer. She lays traps for the men, nails through boards and axes on door handles. She leaps through windows, stabs through eyes and clobbers with bricks. “You’re Next” ends in righteous bloodshed, Erin turning the tables on the masterminds with gory results. A blender is used fantastically. Sharni Vinson is amazingly self-assured in the part, brilliantly switching between an ordinary person to an experienced ass-kicker. 

Most home invasion stories pride themselves on giving their attackers no motivation, making the killings a random crime. That’s pretty scary – and well utilized in films like “The Strangers” and “Them” – but “You’re Next” continues to subvert expectations. There’s nothing random about this invasion. The night of the family dinner, Crispin and his brother Drake begin arguing. The familial resentment bubbles to the surface. Wingard’s film circles back around to this point by the end. Yes, the masked men have been hired by the youngest brother to take out his parents and siblings, in order to receive an inheritance. “Family drives you crazy” seems to be the message here.

Like Wingard’s later films, “You’re Next” has a retro leaning score. That is when “Looking For the Magic” by the Dwight Twilley Band isn’t playing, an awfully catchy pop song that plays throughout the movie. Wingard fills the film with his director friends, giving Larry Fessenden, Ti West, and Joe Swanberg supporting parts. The film’s gory thrills combine smoothly with a sick sense of humor, leading to a highly entertaining effort. That sarcastic streak continues right up to the end, concluding the film on a darkly comedic note. This genre shift wasn’t a hit with everyone. The film wasn’t very popular with audiences, who were perhaps expecting a more traditional flick. (Though it still easily recouped its million dollar budget.) Horror fans who can think on their feet, however, got a kick out of this one. [8/10]

Robin Redbreast (1970)

Here’s another recommendation I owe my buddies on Letterboxd. Sometimes a title I’ve never even heard of crosses my dashboard. One such title was “Robin Redbreast.” Apparently, the film was the first in a series of televised plays broadcast on the BBC. Called “Play for Today,” the series ran for about fourteen years, 39 films in total being produced. That sounds awfully stodgy but some surprisingly cutting edge script passed through the show, such as the work of Alan Clarke. I knew almost nothing about “Robin Redbreast” – other then it dealt with pagan rituals and had a spooky atmosphere – but onto the Halloween watch list it went.

Norah Palmer, a middle age script editor living in London, has recently ended a long term relationship with her boyfriend. Hoping to clear her head, she rents a cottage in rural England. Once there, she finds the village less inviting then she hoped. The neighbors are nosy, including her bossy housekeeper and a local archeologist who talks too much. She also meets Rob, an eccentric young man that catches her eye. Eventually, the two couple and Norah becomes pregnant. As her pregnancy progresses, coincidences prevent Norah from leaving the village. She begins to suspect something sinister has plans for her and her baby.

“Robin Redbreast” plays out like a low-key, rural, and very British version of “Rosemary’s Baby.” It trades in many of the same emotions. At first, Norah dismisses the strange things that have happened. They seem innocuous. A bird flying into her house, the rain guard coming off the roof, someone knocking her young lover unconscious. However, as more occurrences happen, a conspiracy seemingly emerges, with the goal of keeping her where she is. Norah doubts herself, blaming her fear on paranoia. By the time she realizes a cult is manipulating her, it’s too late. The script having her voice her thoughts shows the film’s roots as a stage play but Anna Cropper, grounded but nervous, makes up for the flaws.

Unlike Rosemary, Norah is a thoroughly modern woman. She’s a single woman, with no interest in marriage or children. She’s not beholden to a man and keeps contraceptives around, should sex become a need. After a dull date, she tosses Rob out. It’s only after the bird frightens her that she changes her mind, letting him spend the night. When he discovers she’s pregnant, Rob insists Norah keeps the child. She reminds him that it’s her body, her baby, and she’ll do whatever she wants with it. When the housekeeper asks her to go to a church service, Norah reminds her she’s agnostic and not interested. The older woman strong-arms her to go anyway. By placing an independent woman in the center of a pagan ritual, “Robin Redbreast” illustrates the conflict between modern changes and the old ways. (Very old ways, since the pagan rituals are explicitly presented as the ones Christianity built upon.)

“Robin Redbreast” isn’t scary the way most horror films are. Instead, it relies totally on atmosphere to create its chills. There’s very little music. Instead, the wind blowing through the trees draws attention to Norah’s isolation. She comes across strange things in the forest, like a half marble in her garden or a partially nude Rob performing karate. She has nightmares, the day’s events replaying in eerie darkness. There’s some colorful direction, such as the camera twitching around to illustrate a bird’s eye view. The climax builds in tension, concluding with the starling sight of a man dropping down the chimney. No, it’s not Santa Claus, even if one of “Robin Redbreast’s” scenes is set at Christmas. It’s something creepier then that.

The film does have some stagey elements. There’s a number of scenes composed of people standing around and talking. The denouncement has a character flatly explaining events, which probably wasn’t necessary. “Robin Redbreast” also escapes these limitations at times, such as in the nightmare sequence or the genuinely eerie final image. It’s about as dry as you’d expect a British television production from the early seventies to be. But I still liked it, as the lead actress is good and there’s enough weird spookiness in it to satisfy. After all, I’m a sucker for anything that crossbreeds pagan rituals and modern beliefs so I was right to assume this would be up my aisle. [7/10]

Lost Tapes: Q: The Serpent God

The Enigma Corporation make their final appearance on “Lost Tapes” and Aztec god Quetzalcoatl makes his second appearance this Halloween. A spate of ritualistic murders have occurred throughout Mexico City. The ancient Aztec symbol for 52 is left at each slaying. The police department bring in the Enigma Corporation to investigate. They quickly link the killings with the local criminal underground. They trace a drug lord to an abandoned train depot. What they discover there is a strange occult ritual, already in progress. The murders successfully summon the serpent god Quetzalcotal and its up to the Enigma Corporation to un-summon him.

Season 3 of “Lost Tapes” has been shameless about ripping off better known movies. “Poltergeist” was clearly inspired by “Paranormal Activity.” “Wendigo” was clearly inspired by “The Blair Witch Project.” And “Q: The Serpent God” is clearly inspired by “Q: The Winged Serpent.” Even the titles are practically identical! The similarities end there. No, there’s no nifty stop-motion monster roosting in the Chrysler Building. Instead, most of the episode is spent investigating the cult and sneaking into the warehouse. It’s fairly tedious stuff, especially since the actors sound incredibly bored. When Quetzalcoatl appears, it’s as an unconvincing puppet, mostly obscured in shadows. How the heroes defeat the monster – by shooting it a few times – is a major anti-climax. Even though the script mentions it, the educational segments don’t bring up the real death cults existing in the Mexican drug world. Instead, it focuses on properly sensationalized factoids about Aztec beliefs. [4/10]

Monster Problems (2015)

When filmmaker Adam Green isn’t creating movies like “Digging up the Marrow” and the “Hatchet” series, he keeps busy by pumping out short films for his ArieScope website. 2015’s Halloween short film was “Monster Problem.” The comedic short revolves around a kid, after a night of trick or treating, leaping into his bed for fear of monsters. He’s right to be afraid, as he has three different creatures occupying his bedroom. Luckily for him, the monsters tend to bicker among themselves, impending their ability to munch on him.

The funniest thing about “Monster Problems” is how it plays childhood beliefs about bedroom monsters totally straight. So, once the kid is under the covers, he’s untouchable. The grisly beasts are horrified by a simple nightlight. They are useless against parents. It’s a cute gag, seeing grotesque monsters stymied by such minor things. Even for a six minute short, Green packs in some other gags. The three monsters argue about the particularities of haunting kids. About who gets closest duty, which groans are scarier, if the bed wetter next door is worth eating instead. One of the monsters is named Julian, which amuses the other two, but he’s sensitive about it. The cast is quite good. Derek Mears adopts a goofy British accent as Vylgoth. Kelly Vrooman is nicely neurotic as Dorghast. Colton Dunn is appropriately sassy as Julian. “Monster Problems” ends on a cute gag too. It’s totally worth your six minutes. [7/10]