Category Archives: science fiction horror

Film Review: Crimes of the Future – 2022

Director(s)David Cronenberg
Principal CastViggo Mortensen as Saul Tenser
Léa Seydoux as Caprice
Kristen Stewart as Timlin
Release Date2022
Language(s)English
Running Time 107 minutes
Report CardClick to go to Review TLDR/Summary

NOTE: This is a new release and the review is based off a theatre viewing. This means the review won’t feature common elements like visual analysis, extended theme analysis, or long-form discussions of the cinematic techniques being used. Once I am able to get a copy of the movie to watch, pause, analyze, and get stills from the review will be updated to match the current site’s standard.

The title sequence opens on a canvas made of flesh which evokes the grandeur of the cosmos in the way its “markings” stretch across the screen. Skin is transformed into a metaphysically evocative work of art. This presence of the otherworldly within the human sets up the film’s fundamental question: what delineates humanity from that which it is not?

The answer to the question starts with a young boy, Brecken (Sozos Sotiris), fishing for materials on the banks of the ocean. These bits and pieces of non-organic junk are put in a bucket for storage. As Brecken engages in this task, his mother (Lihi Kornowski) yells at him to not consume any found material – a strange request given the nature of what he’s collecting.

Yet, her warning proves to be fruitful as it’s revealed that Brecken has evolved the capacity to consume plastics as easily as any other type of foodstuff. He sits in the bathroom and excretes an acid from his mouth and slowly chews a bucket sitting next to the toilet as nonchalantly as one would eat a sandwich at the dinner table; the perversion of the traditional eating situation – food being replaced with plastic and a dining area replaced with a bathroom – both confirms Brecken’s behavior while raising questions as to what it suggests: the ability to consume and digest plastics with ease represents such a significant difference from what humans are capable of that it raises the question of Brecken’s relationship to humanity.

His mother takes the transformation as proof of his inhumanity – the evolutionary deviation might as well render him a separate species as far as she’s concerned. Consequently, when he goes to sleep, she takes the opportunity to suffocate and kill him. Now the “creature” has been taken care of. She calls her crime in and coldly mentions that Brecken’s father can deal with the remnants of the monstrosity he bequeathed onto her.

But her disposition to evolution is challenged as the film cuts to Saul (Viggo Mortensen), a pained man, who wakes from a futuristic cocoon-shaped bed complete with tentacular hand-like appendages. He complains to his partner, Caprice (Léa Seydoux), that the bed is not regulating his pain properly and has to get a software update. He goes to eat sitting in a similarly alien chair with appendages that aids him in digestion, but just like with the bed, he struggles and is clearly uncomfortable.

The root of his discomfort stems from a new organ in his body; Saul is someone who’s particular condition causes him to grow new organs periodically which rupture his homeostasis with the machines meant to aid him. However, unlike Brecken’s mother, who takes significant deviation as a sign of an otherness which threatens to obliterate humanity, Saul and Caprice, take these evolutionary shifts as obstacles for humanity to overcome and make their own.

They treat Saul’s condition by removing the organs in live-shows that smash the medical and artistic into a single arena: surgery becomes performance art as Caprice rips into Saul’s flesh in a public arena to remove the effects of his evolutionary changes, thereby rendering both the surgery and the new organ as pieces of art. As she penetrates him, his face contorts in the throws of ecstasy. As the domain of flesh expands, as does the domain of surgery which now positions itself as the new sex. Thus, the evolutionary shift opens the space for new possibilities, allowing humanity to transmute itself through itself.

Both Brecken and Saul’s mutations are a result of Accelerated Evolution Syndrome wherein humanity finds itself quickly mutating in an increasingly ecologically desolate world. The pain thresholds common to persons have disappeared by and large, leaving humanity open to a more explicitly sadomasochistic relationship to their flesh. A desolate environment and the absence of pain render the site of the body the natural next location for investigation: humans turn to themselves as environments to navigate, to find meaning within as the outside world continues to shrink.

Yet, the shifting tectonics of the flesh threatens to rupture the paradigm by which humanity operates – the liminal points of the species are coming apart. As evidenced by Brecken’s mother, the cataclysms generated through evolution threaten to upend humanity all-together. Consequently, the future finds itself in a paradigmatic war to determine the points to suture humanity around. Saul’s unique condition places himself at the center of a network of parties desperately trying to set the syntax by which humanity defines itself. His shows with Caprice bring not only art fans looking to see the literal manifestation of artists reaching from within to create something spectacular but also extremists and government agencies who wish to use the platform to spread their own messages about what human normativity should be.

For director David Cronenberg, none of these questions are new: Crimes of the Future represents a return to the thematic investigations of his earlier body horror works à la eXistenZ. But this latest entry differs not in its manner of presentation, so much as the feelings it evoke in reference to the material. Cronenberg maintains his clinical precision in showing the flesh rendered, but attempts to place the viewer in the same mesmerized, painless state as the inhabitants of the film, showcasing gore and mutilation with such care as to render the grotesque mesmerizing. As organs are removed and examined, one can’t help but continue to stare at the screen as Howard Shore’s hypnotic electric score pulsates in the background inducing a meditative trance. Each cut brings with it not only artfully tempered gore but the opportunity to assess what our flesh and our relationship to it means and opens or closes us up to as a result.

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TLDRCrimes of the Future sees body-horror master David Cronenberg back in more familiar waters as the story follows an humanity on the precipice of radical change as accelerated mutations in an ecologically compromised world have opened up the possibilities for what the species means and where it can go. The juxtaposition of the body against the fields of art, surgery, ecology, evolution, and politics makes the film’s gory spectacle all the more interesting and forces the viewer to navigate the fleshy contours that demarcate humanity
Rating10/10
GradeS

Go to Page 2  for the spoiler discussion and more in-depth analysis.
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Film Review: Titane – 2021

Director(s)Julia Ducournau
Principal CastAgathe Rousselle as Alexia/Adrien
Vincent Lindon as Vincent
Release Date2021
Language(s)French
Running Time 108 minutes
Report CardClick to go to Review TLDR/Summary

NOTE: This is a new release and the review is based off a theatre viewing. This means the review won’t feature common elements like visual analysis, extended theme analysis, or long-form discussions of the cinematic techniques being used. Once I am able to get a copy of the movie to watch, pause, analyze, and get stills from the review will be updated to match the current site’s standard.

The camera crawls over the internal workings of a car engine, jumping from one section to another, canvassing each in sensuous manner. Country music strings can be heard intermingled with the mechanical noises of the engine proper. Eventually, the film cuts inside of the car; now the engine’s rumbles are replicated by a young girl, Alexia, who delights in her loud and boisterous emulation much to the chagrin of her father who turns up the country music louder and louder as a response.

Upset with her father’s refusal to be her plaything, Alexia starts to repeatedly kick his chair before then taking off her seatbelt to presumably cause more havoc. Her father immediately turns back to yell at her and ends up losing control. Crash. She flies and suffers a head wound. Disfiguration. At the hospital, her head is outfitted with a titanium plate. Transformation. Titane is here. Metal has become flesh. Alexia has been reborn as cyborg proper, a child of metal. Far from just emulating its hums, she now is partly composed of it.

After the procedure, Alexia ignores her father and goes out to the car. Due to her crash, one would expect some kind of traumatic response, but Alexia goes to kiss the vehicle, showering it with a kind of love that seems all the more absurd given her seeming lack of feeling to her parents. Her kinship is with the world of metal and not with the world of humanity; metal becomes more skin than skin itself – a reorientation towards flesh. Just like Raw, director Julia Ducournau is most interested in breaking down the boundaries of where flesh stops being banal and starts being something worth protecting. Instead of utilizing cannibalism as the means of navigating the contours of what renders flesh valuable, she uses Alexia’s fetishistic relationship to metal.

Jump to the future. Country strings are replaced by The Kills’ “Doing It To Death” – a sign of things to come. An older adult Alexia (Agathe Rousselle) struts confidently through an underground car facility. Cinematographer Ruben Impens captures her movements in a smooth tracking shot that never breaks, gliding through a erotic gallery of bodies moving, women dancing evocatively over the hoods of cars as customers wait and watch, before finally revealing Alexia as one of these women. Unlike Raw’s gorgeous one-shot tracking shot of a rave scene meant to demonstrate it’s main characters disorientation, Titane’s introductory one-shot highlights its protagonists wholehearted embrace of an sensual and no-bars lifestyle. Far from learning discipline from her car crash, Alexia has only become more emblazoned; it’s no coincidence that car she dances on top is painted with flames. She’s an unrestrained fire that seems hellbent on “doing it to death”.

She leaves the show but is accosted on the way to her car by a fan who gives chase to her. The situation is clearly uncomfortable; the nature of his approach is downright predatory and his actions afterwards, including a non-consensual kiss, make it clear that Alexia can’t easily get away from him. Curiously, she leans in to him and begins kissing him more passionately, seemingly rewarding his unwarranted advances with tacit approval. However, this clearly is demonstrated to be far from the case as she quickly removes a long, pointed, hairpin and quickly stabs the unsuspecting fan through his ear, killing him in brutal fashion. The point of injury is near the same point of her own titanium implant – the site of which is still fleshy and observable. In her own way, she has rendered unto her attacker a similar injury – a ritual reenacting her own trauma.

Once home, she takes a shower and attempts to wash away the events of the night. But as soon as she steps out of the shower, the walls and floors start to rumble and shake. A mirror against the wall reflecting Alexia shakes and threatens to come off. Alexia opens the door to discover the source of the noise and realizes that the rumbles are coming from her flaming car. It’s calling to her, beckoning her forward. She answers its calls and gets into the vehicle. Ducournau pushes it to 11 at this point and gives the audience a small taste of what’s to come, as it is at this point Alexia begins to have passionate sexual relations with the car, moaning and rejoicing in the vehicle as she would any other lover. The scene cuts from Alexia writhing in ecstasy within the metal cocoon to shots of the car buckling up and down, shaking all around, confirming its status as fully alive.

Consequently, the experience pushes Alexia to embrace her relationship with metal qua flesh in more radical fashion. It’s revealed that far from considering metal superior, she considers it the only flesh worth protecting. Far from being a chance murder, it turns out that the ear-impaled fan is only one of Alexia’s many victims; she’s a mass murderer of sorts and kills people as easily as people eat their meals. Human flesh isn’t sacred or relevant to her; she has no reason to love it and treats it as nothing more than a nuisance. Eventually, things catch up and she’s forced to abandon her home, her parents, and occupation. Made to carve out a new station in life, Alexia proceeds through an entanglement of metal and skin in an attempt to carve out a orientation towards the flesh, one predicated on love.

Like Raw, Titane features gory set-pieces tied to the themes of the story, impeccable and uncomfortable sound design that emphasizes squelching, and a host of perverse orientations towards the flesh. However, unlike Raw, which features a mainly straight-forward, albeit textured, story, Titane is far more ambitious in the scope of its themes and the surreal, almost dream-like way its narrative proceeds, choosing to show character interactions and reactions instead of explaining them or having anyone mention them explicitly. Ducournau is clearly in her element here and deftly weaves ideas about gender expectations against Alexia’s ongoing relationships with flesh, demonstrating that what conditions and furnishes meaning is not blood or similarity, but an ability to feel love. Form matters less than content, a notion that’s stretched to its limits as Alexia navigates the borders of both gender and humanity in an attempt to find meaning in her life.

Her journey and it’s development are made all the more obvious by the no-holds barred fashion in which Ducournau captures the macabre, often times showing the bloody in a nonchalant and apathetic fashion thereby giving brutal murder sequence s a sick comedic undertone that less squeamish viewers will enjoy. Murder stops being the focus and its purpose becomes the point of focus, as Alexia’s murderous drives change form as she considers what makes flesh normatively valuable. Agathe Rousselle makes these moments of transformation palpable, rendering a variety of expressions from tired, but otherwise unfazed to broken in and devastated. It’s no small feat that she gets the viewer to invest in and root for a serial murderer whether they think she’s going to change her lifestyle or not.

Thus, far from just being a set of gore-pieces held together by indecipherable plot threads, Titane is meticulous and precise, with even small details blowing up quietly in the background of the film as it goes on. At every point, Ducournau focuses on showing the way flesh, metal or human, engenders its own preservation via inculcating love in others, demonstrating that the connecting force between subjects/objects is not so much perceived sameness as the possibility for affection between them. Because of this, even the more outlandish plot elements make sense within the confines of the story even if the actual reasons behind them or the way they culminate aren’t completely known to the viewer. For those willing to spend the analyzing the parallels, Titane offers a gory story that not only manages to captivate from start to end but also manages to showcase the true powers of love.

REPORT CARD

TLDRThough largely silent and visual, Titane, far from having too little to say, has a wide breadth of fleshy ideas it dives into and explores. The juxtaposition of human skin and metal along with idea of gender as a socially coded role gives Ducournau room to explore what renders flesh something worth caring about and protecting. Though more squeamish viewers might be put off, those looking for a film that invites the them to think and engage with them without giving all the answers will find more than their fair share’s worth in Titane.
Rating10/10
GradeS

Go to Page 2 for the for the spoiler discussion and more in-depth analysis.
Go to Page 3 to view this review’s progress report .

Review: The Endless

Director(s)Justin Benson
Aaron Scott Moorhead
Principal CastJustin Benson as Justin
Aaron Scott Moorhead as Aaron
Callie Hernandez as Anna
Tate Ellington as Hal
Lew Temple as Tim
Shane Brady as Shane
Kira Powell as Lizzy

James Jordan as Shitty Carl
Release Date2017
Language(s)English
Running Time 111 minutes
The opening quote to the movie encapsulates the thematic journey we’ll be taking- a mixture of Lovecraft, confronting the unknown, fear, alienation, and the way those ideas intertwine in relationships.

The movie opens with two quotes : one from Lovecraft and one from an Unknown source. Lovecraft’s quote encapsulates the drive behind his writing – the idea that the unknown is the root of fear. The latter quote notes that siblings only tell each other their feelings when they’re on their deathbeds. The presentation of the quote highlights that the Unknown Lovecraft is talking about is an agent of sorts that’s the source of the second quote, informing the audience that the movie we’re about to experience is going to explore a sibling relationship against a Lovecraft background – an navigation of the unknown, fear, and relationships.

After this the movie cuts to two brothers, Justin and Aaron, who are attempting to navigate their day to day lives in spite of a grayness that seems to permeate their existence. On top of their sullen demeanors, the color grading is undersaturated and reinforces a dreary and lifeless mood.

Justin (Justin Benson) tries to reach out to his brother Aaron (Aaron Scott Moorhead) who is too sullen to respond or reciprocate. The brothers lives are gray and worn out after having left the cult . Even the bright sun can’t lighten up their days, reflecting the way their lives have fallen into a depressive rut.

It’s quickly revealed that the two are survivors of a cult and are struggling with adapting to their new lifestyle. The older brother, Justin, domineers over his younger brother and constantly dictates the duo’s course of action. He’s the one who dragged them out from the clutches of the cult due to fears about them committing some kind of mass suicide. On the other hand, Aaron is very much sick and tired of their current life and is desperate to go back to the cult and experience the sense of warmth he had back there – a familial unity that seems to be missing with his own flesh and blood. After the two receive an ominous videotape from their former cult members talking about an “ascension” of sort. The tape is obviously old and its quality is poor, but it ends on an image of a circle. Desperate, to get his brother back to normal, Justin acquiesces and tells Aaron they’ll go to the cult for one day to get the latter’s mojo back.

As they journey to their previous habitat, the color that had been missing from their lives permeates the screen. The gray gives way to bright and warm colors that compliment Aaron’s newfound joy.

Once they decide the go back to the cult for a day, the light seeps in and saturates the brothers’ lives. There’s a newfound vitality here that was missing before.

During this drive back the brother’s stop at a funeral site – the place where their mother had died so many years ago. Surprisingly, the offerings they had left so many years ago as children still stand, no blemishes or markings to indicate how long they’ve been there. Having given their respects, the two make their way to the cult site – a campground that immediately feels unnerving and inviting at the same time. Their journey is accompanied by a score that evokes hints of John Carpenter – a spectral synth that has a The first person they run into ignores them and keeps walking past them, obviously perturbed. The next person they run into is smiling creepily, their face unmoving. Eventually the duo runs back into their previous acquaintances who happily welcome them back to the site. A nice meal followed by a good night’s sleep assuages Aaron and confirms to him he made the right choice. Meanwhile, Justin is still very much on the fence about the decision.

As the two of them explore the camp and re-integrate with their previous acquaintances/friends they’re forced to confront the host of inexplicable phenomena that pervade the camp. There’s constant mentions of an alien entity that watches the camp ground, a locked wooden shed that’s described as a storehouse for brewery equipment, magic tricks that go from discernible to out of this world, camp bonding activities that seem physically impossible, the presence of two moons, strange totem like objects scattered throughout the area, and camp members who fluctuate from cozy and inviting to seemingly hostile and suspicious. It’s a creepy cult gamut featuring enough additional oddities to keep both the brothers and the audience in a constant search to determine who’s on whose side and what’s really causing these off-putting occurrences. The best part is that the visual effects for many of these moments are simple, effective, and don’t cheapen out on stunning the audience. It’s testament to Benson and Moorhead’s skill that they can shoot a low budget picture but add enough visual magic in the right ways to absolutely nail the impact of each of these visceral phenomena. Very rarely did I feel myself fall into disbelief as the fantastical nature of what was happening blended seamlessly into the reality of the world, calling into question where the bounds of “real” stopped and started.

Everything pays off because each incident by itself is unnerving but put together it generates a fragmented experience. It’s impossible to know exactly where anything is going which generates both tension and a constant desire to figure it out. At the same time, the obvious call backs to horror tropes (ex: a cult brewing beer is the spiritual cousin of a cult drinking the Kool-Aid, Native Indian markings throughout the camp invite the idea that it’s a haunting taking place, etc.) helps us piece the pieces together according to our own preconceptions firmly placing us on the side of one or both of the brothers. Justin is suspicious of them and thinks they have to do with the cult trying to gain control over the brothers. Meanwhile, Aaron is more trusting of the camp members and accepts the oddities as they are. Their relationship develops as a result of every occurrence which not only adds an emotional resonance to the disconcerting events but also pushes the two of them to confront their deep seated feelings. It’s an encapsulation of the beginning quotes – a relationship that develops in the face of fear through the lens of the unknown.

Exemplifying this is the constant use of circles both as visual motif and in the way the camera moves. A circle is a closed shape – marked by boundaries but having no discernible start or end. It’s a loop that contains an infinite possibility of meanings depending on how you break its components down. The movie emphasizes this by constantly cutting to multiple circles, each distinct from one another in size and composition.

Early on, when the brothers get the initial tape from the cult, the tape cuts on an image of a circle – an eerie circle that calls back to something like Stonehenge. The move match cuts this with the bucket of cleaning supplies that the brothers use in their jobs – an circle that constraints their lives in a mundane job. The maps the camp uses are marked with circles – circles of containment that lock in zones. The camp members city in circles around the campfire – a circle of community. On top of this, Benson and Moorhead make multiple uses of arc shots that circle around and give the full view of a situation – a circle of meaning. Multiple scenes are shot in slow motion as the camera arcs – a circle of time. Is there a difference between insulating ourselves in a domestic circle where we take on mundane jobs versus isolating ourselves in a cult like circle that feeds our social and emotional needs? By utilizing the circles in such a way the movie gets us to ask questions like these throughout the movie, tying the fragmented and disparate elements into more cohesive strands – a symbolism that ties narrative to them and back again in a mutually reinforcing loop that’s open to infinite meaning.

This duality in meaning is aided by the stellar cast and crew. Surprisingly, the main players Justin and Aaron who play the the two brothers going by the same names are not the stars of the show. Don’t get me wrong – their performances are more than adequate – better than I expected when I saw the directors were taking center stage. Outside of a few moments of overexertion near the first half of the movie, they do their job at selling their characters relationship through effective and comedic banter along with requisite emotional moments necessary to propel the story. However, it’s their supporting cast that drives home the ambiguity of the camp happenings and the real emotional weight of what’s at stake behind the mysteries. Ellington gives Hal, the de facto leader/not leader, of the group a kind aura that belies the expectations of him that the brothers and us might have of him being a culty control freak. Temple makes Tim, the camp’s brewer, feel both tired and sincere. The way he emotes through his eyes indicates his character’s frustrated, serious, but not malicious. Powell’s dove eyed portrayal of Lizzy is both unnerving and endearing. She makes her character feel crazy, open, or a little bit of both. James Jordan as the aptly named Shitty Carl goes from absolutely batshit, to serious, to emotionally devastated, to goofing around in a seamless manner that underscores the weight of the camp’s mystery/(ies). I could go on and on, but the point is each performance both gives gravity to the consequences of the phenomena that we witness and emphasizes the theme of infinite interpretation.

The Endless proves that all you need is a tight script, interesting ideas, innovative execution, and a real focus on theme to tell a great and compelling story. Despite the budgetary limitations, Benson and Moorhead demonstrate that they’re more than comfortable in their Lovecraftian wheelhouse and can tell complex and diverse stories from within without ever boring their audience. After Resolution and Spring, this is the movie that cements that they’re an up and coming talent that deserves more recognition. If you’re someone who’s been itching for a sci-fi horror that’ll get you to think without giving you easy answers, look no further. The Endless is the kind of movie that begs to be watched and re-watched in an attempt to carve out meaning from it’s seemingly infinite world.

REPORT CARD

TLDRThe Endless expands and builds on Moorhead and Benson’s previous endeavors – combining horror tropes, relationship struggles, the search for meaning, and a healthy dose of Lovecraftian ideas to create a truly mesmerizing movie that’ll get you invested in the characters and invite you to think about the deeper meaning of your life and the way it ebbs and flows. Though the budget is on the smaller side, the movie never suffers and demonstrates that interesting ideas and tight execution are all that’s necessary to tell a thrilling and moving story. Every element – from the tropes, to the characters, to the visual effects, to the worldbuilding- fits with one another and will leave you genuinely impressed by the end. If you’re a fan of sci-fi and/or fantasy, you owe it to yourself to check this out.
Rating9.8/10
GradeA+

Go to Page 2 to view this review’s progress report

Review: Alien

Director(s)Ridley Scott
Principal CastSigourney Weaver as Ripley
Tom Skerritt as Dallas
Ian Holm as Ash
Veronica Cartwright as Lambert
Yaphet Kotto as Parker
Harry Dean Stanton as Brett
John Hurt as Kane
Bolaji Badejo as the Alien
Release Date1979
Language(s)English
Running Time 117 minutes

It’s hard writing a review about a movie that’s gotten as much love and adoration as Ridley Scott’s Alien, but I’ll try my best to persuade the few of you out there who haven’t seen it to give this masterpiece a go around. The story of a small commercial space crew who receive orders to investigate an alien spaceship and who subsequently come into contract with a hostile alien species seems like a simple narrative meant to provoke fear.  Like the release poster says,” In space no one can hear you scream.” It seems like a no brainer as to why such a story could be so scary. However, a slew of Alien based knockoffs and even some of the franchise sequels indicate that its not just a simple and well executed narrative that makes this movie from the 70’s so enduring as classic in both the horror and science-fiction genres. Underneath the narrative is a hefty amount of subtext, painstakingly interwoven in the movie through the use of immaculate creature designs, pristine lighting, top notch set design, and a soundtrack that’s perfectly suited to transporting the audience into the affective territory of fear.

From the moment the title screen opens, the movie makes it clear that there’s more than meets the eye. As letters slowly appear on the screen spelling out the title, Alien, the camera slowly pans across an oblong object instead of a traditional circle object which would be more inline with what we’d expect from space – planets, stars, and the like.

This is the title track as the camera moves left to right and finishes covering the egg/oblong. The discoloration near the L is the outer boundary of the egg.

This egg like shape sets the stage for the thematic meat at the center of the story – sexuality and our relationship to it. From this egg like shape the camera slowly moves through the Nostromo, a commercial space vehicle with a crew deep in sleep. However, after a distress  signal is received from an outside source the ship’s computer, aptly named Mother, sends a signal to wake the crew up. The camera then moves to the crew as they wake up and emerge from a series of oblong, egg-shaped pods.

The crew of the Nostromo waking up from their egg/oblong shaped pods.

After giving us a few moments to get to know the members of the crew the movie quickly moves to getting them to respond to the signal. A small subset of the crew is led by Kane, an executive officer, to investigate the source of the signal and to determine if anyone needs help.  Unfortunately, for the members of the Nostromo, Kane discovers an oblong egg-shaped object with a cross symbol (religious heresy at its finest) in the middle, that shoots out an alien species which immediately latches onto his body.

Despite quarantine protocol dictating that he be left behind and not allowed back onto the ship Ash, the ship’s scientist, overrules Ripley’s, the warrant officer, command to follow the same and allows the expedition crew and a grievously injured Kane back aboard. This subsumption of authority is quickly brushed aside by the rest of the crew due to Kane’s condition, but it sets up the “war of the sexes” power dynamic that guides the rest of the movie. Ripley, one of the two female crewmates, has her orders ignored to save a crewmate despite orders. Kane, a male, is then shown with the “face hugger” alien aptly covering his face. With its phallic tail coiling around Kane’s neck and a tube running from its body down his throat, the scene utilizes sexuality – particularly a male on male oral rape scene- as a method of genuinely scaring the audience.

Kane with face hugger attached. The phallic coil slithers around his neck provocatively as the creature inserts itself down his throat.

The deviant sexuality is literally weaponized and works in horrifying because it A- depicts rape and B- masks that depiction through an alien organism that pulsates and oozes in an incomprehensible way. As the alien creature matures throughout the movie, it takes on more and more pronounced male and female sexual characteristics, transforming into an amalgamation of deviant sexuality that actively violates and threatens the crewmembers.  This relationship to sexuality is developed by other characters’ attempts at reining in control over the situation and their attempts at fighting back the alien. Like the face hugger scene, none of these sexually violent images are overt but rather work on the level of suggestion and repetition. Eggs, phallic shaped objects, liquids gushing and oozing, penetration, and the like all work to trigger off a sub-conscious response that plays off our fears of sexuality, violence, and the forces inner workings. H.R. Giger’s aesthetic choices are what turn Alien from a superb thriller, into a deeply thought-provoking look at the way sexuality is coded and linked to power. None of the images overtly force us to think about things in this way, but their suggestive power combined with the setup of the plot makes those connections operate in the back of our minds leading to some genuinely frightening moments.

The story also does a great job of positioning the Alien in relation to humanity/animality by constantly juxtaposing the creature with both the human crewmates and the crew’s cat, Jones. At first glance, Jones can be written off as a minor character whose only purpose is to get crewmates put into precarious situation. However, a closer reading reveals that compared to the Alien’s overtly sexual and violent predatory practices, Jones is docile, restrained, and something that crew actively wants to protect. Jones isn’t just a cat. Jones is the inverse to the Alien – a sexuality that can be understood and controlled in a sense. The fact that the cat conveniently appears in so many scenes where the Alien pops up isn’t a coincidence as much as it is Scott’s attempts at making the audience piece together the connections. This becomes even more pronounced in the last act of the movie which does the best job of visually depicting the importance of Jones as a counterbalance.

Put together, this is why the Alien creature (the Xenomorph) works so well. It plays off our natural fears of sexual violence through its increasingly disturbing amalgamation of female and male sexuality. Its attempts at gaining control and overpowering the crewmates ties back into the earlier instantiation of sexualized power hierarchies and depictions of agency. It’s juxtaposition against Jones highlights just how much about it we don’t know, understand, and are unable to control. As a result, the creature works perfectly as both a thematic and visual depiction of true horror.

Obviously, none of this sub-text would be relevant if the movie itself did not work on the level of its plot. The simplicity of the overarching narrative lets all the thematic elements become part of the stories identity as opposed to feeling like some postmodern meaning soup. Every element plays into one another and is highlighted through Scott’s impeccable visual storytelling as opposed to preaching to the audience through boring dialogue. From the way the spaceship looks all dark and dilapidated to how the alien planet looks musty, cloudy, and damp its clear a lot of effort went into creating a believable outer space. It’s astounding to think this movie was made back in 1979 because it holds up incredibly well even now. Outside of the superb aesthetic direction and wholly realistic looking set pieces, the movie excels in its use of lighting. Scott knows just how much to show you and the flickering light effects in the latter portions of the movie do a great job of exemplifying just how hidden and nefarious the Alien really is. It’s not that he’s afraid to show you the creature. Not at all. Trust me – you get to see every disgusting and skin crawling aspect of it by the end of the movie. It’s more that he wants you to be genuinely unnerved by it. He wants you to be staring at the creature in plain sight and not know that you’re looking at it. What’s scarier than not knowing you’re looking at the monster the whole time? Because the dialogue is so witty and does a great job of establishing the characters’ personalities and motivations it becomes hard to not become attached to the crew and place yourselves in their shoes. That’s why the revelation that you, like the crew, were incapable of finding the monster first is chilling. Because you would’ve died to.

Speaking of the crew members, every single member of the cast delivers a performance that has you wholeheartedly believe that they’re members of an actual space expedition and that they’re on another day on the job. From the constant bickering about payment to the lively banter between them, its easy to forget that everyone’s acting.  Sigourney Weaver is great as the lead and manages to give the warrant officer equal helpings of raw humanity and genuine badassery. She can quickly go from panicked in the face of the Xenomorph to eager and ready to destroy it. Without her walking through some tricky emotional tightropes with precision, the emotional and thematic weight of the movie would not hit nearly as hard. I love Holm’s performance as Ash and think he does a great job at both acting as a foil to Weaver and at carrying along some fairly important story beats. Kotto and Stanton’s bantering is a genuine treat to watch near the start of the movie and provides the audience with much needed levity before things actually start going off the rocker.

From the script to the acting to the set design to everything in between, Alien never manages to disappoint. This is truly one of the movies I think you could call “perfect” and not get an eyeroll from everyone in the room. It’s a masterwork in the Science-Fiction and Horror genres and its ubiquity in pop culture (I’m looking at you Avengers:Infinity War) necessitate a watch from movie fans in general. It’s scary, thought provoking, and equal parts beautiful and disgusting to watch.

Report Card

TLDRIf you’re a fan of movies, you owe it to yourself to watch Alien. Rarely is there a movie that so perfectly manages to progress a message through its narrative, visual and sound design, and character progression. Despite being made in 1979, the movie looks, feels, and operates better than most things coming out now. The story of a space crew trying to fight for their lives against a horrifying alien is entertaining enough, but the treasure trove of subtext that lies beneath each and every frame make this a movie worth re-watching and studying. There’s so much more I could gush over , but I really do think some things are better experienced than explained. That’s a lesson Alien taught me well.
Rating10/10
GradeA+

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Review: The Platform

Director(s)Galder Gaztelu-Urrutia
Principal CastIván Massagué as Goreng
Zorion Eguileor as Trimagasi
Antonia San Juan as Imoguiri
Emilio Buale Coka as Baharat
Alexandra Masangkay as Miharu
Release Date2019
Language(s)Spanish
Running Time 94 minutes

My usual experience with horror titles on Netflix has always been the following:

  1. If I scroll and find the movie myself the movie is anywhere from decent to excellent (ex: Gerald’s Game).
  2. If I hear about the movie through the grapevine and check it out it’s usually a huge disappointment (ex: Bird Box,)

Given that, I was fairly certain that The Platform would be another over-hyped but underwhelming addition to the online horror streaming collection. You can only imagine my surprise then when I immediately wanted and proceeded to replay the movie after it had ended. Gaztelu-Urrutia’s science fiction thriller is one of the most layered, intimate, and entertaining depictions of the dark underbelly of capitalism I’ve had the pleasure of seeing. It’s a movie that not only deserves the praise it’s getting but honestly feels like it’s getting undersold.

The story takes place in a large tower comprised of multiple vertically stacked floors, each floor housing two residents. Each floor is identical in makeup and has a rectangular shaped hole in the center of it. A platform stacked with food starts at the top floor of the tower and travels through the holes all the way down. People are free to eat how much ever and whatever they want from the platform during the time it lingers on their floor but have no food for the rest of the day once it goes to the next floor. Every month people are reassigned to new rooms with no guarantees of where they’ll end up.

The environment serves as the perfect playground to explore class conflict. People on the upper floors have no personal incentive to partition food for those below outside of potential empathy if they had experienced hunger on a lower floor during a previous cycle. The question the movie wants to answer is whether or not it’s possible to create an escape out of such a system or find a way to survive in it. Can individual action galvanize change in a system where there’s no guarantee of the security of one’s future? That’s a pertinent question that policymakers are struggling to answer right now during the Corona epidemic as some people hoard supplies for themselves while others donate to the less fortunate. The separation between floors helps elucidate the dissonance people experience as a result of possessing relatively more power than their peers. People hate those above for disrespecting them and in the case of the movie not giving them food, but they simultaneously choose not to extend the concern they wish they received to those below. It’d be funny if it didn’t ring so true with reality.

Obviously such discussions require nuance and ambiguity. That’s where this movie shines. The majority of the narrative is dialogue between Goreng, a man who voluntarily entered the tower, and the various peoples he meets on different levels. Every participant he runs into is a stand-in for a different sect of society and their relation to resource distribution. It can feel a bit too on the nose with characters insulting others with jeers like “communist” or racial slurs. However, most of these details are meant to distract both Goreng and us, the audience, from the structural information asymmetry at play. With no resources or methods to vet others information, every interaction becomes suspect. Is what’s being said true or is it only being said to curry favor? Maybe the correspondent thinks what they’re saying is true when it’s not because they heard it from somewhere else. The movie constantly reveals pertinent information only to contradict it a few scenes later. It forces you to ask who’s really doing what and for why. You really appreciate how layered the (mis)direction and (mis)information go because they reveal the way knowledge is conditioned by power and used to reinforce different schemas of social control, both good and bad. It’s all about ideology.

Thankfully, in spite of being dialogue heavy and primarily taking place in one setting, the movie never feels boring. This is due in part to some great editing choices and performances. Whenever a moment feels like it’s just about to get too long the movie cuts to a nightmare sequence, psychological hallucinations, or an outside perspective of the events leading to Goreng’s experiences in the tower. Each cut feels like it comes at the right time and always adds to the subtext in a way that doesn’t outwardly reveal as much as the dialogue heavy scenes. It’s markedly subtle. Lighting and color are also used to great effect both as plot devices and as a mood amplifiers. The palette is usually a gray-blue but gets enveloped in a red lighting, similar to what you’d see in a dark room, during more important moments. It’s a visual jolt that lets you know something’s going to go down. Furthermore, the movie is just as violent as it is cerebral and horror fans looking for some gory visceral scares will definitely have a good time with some of the more brutal moments. As you would imagine people on the brink of starvation are more than willing to do what they need to ensure they have something to eat and the movie plays with that tension to create some genuinely stressful white-knuckle situations.

Now as much as I love this movie for what it does, I think it does feel a bit too convenient at times. There are some characters that feel tailor fit for the situation as opposed to feeling like real people who just happened to have the skills to solve the situation at hand. I didn’t think it was a huge issue, but it does make some sequences feel more allegorical than grounded. The movie also revels in mystery and shows a lot of interesting scenes and moments that have to do with but are not within the tower but never expands on them enough. It’s not that the inclusions are ineffective. It’s more like they’re missed opportunities that could have made the movies themes pop out more. Finally, the ending is polarizing. It’s intentionally ambiguous and is open to interpretation. I personally love it and think it’s the only way the movie could have ended. However I also know people who thought the ending was a let-down that didn’t make use of all the momentum leading up to it.

REPORT CARD

TLDRThe Platform is like if Cube got a modern face-lift and dealt directly with the horrors of neoliberal capitalism. The story is nuanced, brutal, and more pertinent now than ever. If you’re looking for clear answers you might find yourself frustrated. This is a cerebral horror that delivers on its themes and its scares in equal part.
Rating9.2/10
Grade A

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Review: The Invisible Man (2020)

Director(s)Leigh Whannell
Principal CastElisabeth Moss as Cecilia
Oliver Jackson-Cohen as Adrian
Aldis Hodge as Detective James
Harriet Dyer as Emily
Storm Reid as Sydney
Release Date2020
Language(s)English
Running Time 124 minutes

Leigh Whannell has never made a movie I haven’t enjoyed either as a screenwriter or director. The Insidious series is one of my favorite horror franchises and wouldn’t have been possible without him. 2018’s Upgrade made me appreciate how well he could move behind the camera and I was hyped up to see what he was going to do next. Then I saw the trailers for his latest feature, a remake of the iconic The Invisible Man. I’ll be honest when I say that I didn’t have faith the movie would be good. I thought the trailer spoiled too much and I thought the movie would be schlocky or boring as a result. If it wasn’t for my love of Whannell’s past works I would’ve given this a sit-out till reviews came out, like I did for Fantasy Island . Thankfully, I ended up seeing this opening night and left the theater blown away. Whanell has taken the core components of H.G Well’s beloved story and fitted them into a #MeToo movie that’s topical and nuanced without being patronizing.

The story follows Cecilia, an abused women who decides enough is enough and attempts to escape from her controlling and manipulative husband. Despite knowing that she’d escape based off the trailers , I still felt my knuckles clench during the opening sequence. It is pin drop silent as Emily Moss tip toes around the mansion that serves as her castle. You can feel her tension in every action, in every moment, in every hurried look around her settings to make sure that her husband isn’t near. Thankfully for the audience, it’s only an appetizer for what’s to come. After she manages to get out of the situation, she receives the news that her husband has apparently died from suicide and has left her a huge sum in his will. Soon after this, she settles into an apparently peaceful life, that is, until she realizes that her husband may not be dead and instead might be stalking her as an invisible man.

Whannell gets what makes invisibility scary and manages to push the concept in new, bold ways. There are moments where the camera pans from a character to a supposedly empty area. It lingers there almost hinting that the invisible assailant is in the same space. It’s almost like Whannell is taunting you to pick out where the man is. Sometimes there’s a discernible sign something is there. Other times there’s nothing. I felt myself becoming more paranoid and off kilter as I desperately tried to find him in the frame. It’s brilliant move that places you in Cecilia’s frame of mind. Once she realizes she’s being stalked, no space is a safe space. Any space could house “him” in it and she constantly has to be on high alert at all times. The ingenuity of panning to different kids of empty settings is we’re never made aware if the titular antagonist is actually there. We, the audience and Cecilia, might just be staring at nothing, scaring ourselves at the idea of what’s there. It creates an immersive atmosphere that should pull anyone in , regardless of gender or sex.

What gives the movie it’s unique subtext is also one of the main differences between it and the 1933 original- the focus on the perspective of the victim and not the assailant. We follow Cecilia the whole movie, so the fear of being pursued by an invisible assailant feels more personal as opposed to detached. There’s a stronger sense of culpability which makes us even more sympathetic of the main character’s plight. That’s why it feels so frustrating to see her rebuffed at every opportunity. Of course it would sound crazy to talk about how you’re being stalked by your invisible dead husband. Even when the malevolent entity is literally in the room invading her space and psyche, no one believes her. It’s a poignant #MeToo call , as Cecilia desperately tries to get anyone to believe her abuse and help her. The fear of losing ones mind from constant gaslighting compliments and accentuates the fear of invisibility. It gives the movie layers of textured horror.

At the heart of all of this is Elisabeth Moss’s performance as Cecilia. Holy shit. Moss is asked to do so much this movie and delivers on all fronts. Early on when she’s just escaping, she nails the dread and anxiety of leaving her abuser. The uncertainty of her precautions working shows in her face and her constant glances. When she thinks her husband is dead you can see her body language change. Her face brightens and you can feel the hope set in, which is why when she realizes that he may not be as dead as everyone says, it hurts. You can see the confidence tear as it’s replaced by anxiety and paranoia again. The fatigue, the weariness, the feeling of being absolutely done; it’s all there. There are huge scenes where she’s literally talking to nothing visible in the room, but you feel like someone else is there, because maybe there is. When she starts to fight back, you can feel the fight or flight in her desperation and/or her tenacity. She’s the emotional core of the movie and without such an amazing performance, the story would fail to be as effective of compelling.

There are a few story issues that threaten the underlying logic of the movie, but I didn’t notice them in the moment. Some of them feel like more serious realism issues . Others are more nitpicky. However, none of them detracted from my enjoyment or from the story in a meaningful way. If you’re someone who can’t turn the “but how could they even” part of your brain off, you might get frustrated with some of thriller sequences in the second act. Thankfully, I was able to ignore that inner voice and just let myself be transported into Whannell’s world.

Report Card

TLDRThe Invisible Man knocks it out of the park. It captures the essential ideas of the original movie, but manages to make them more topical for our day and age. The story of an abused wife being stalked by her supposedly dead, abusive husband manages to surprise more than the trailers would let on. Whannell manages to deliver some well earned scares alongside an incredibly relevant message in the #MeToo era.
Rating9.5/10
GradeA+

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Review: The Invisible Man (1933)

Director(s)James Whale
Principal CastClaude Rains as Dr. Griffin/The Invisible Man
William Harrigan as Dr. Kemp
Henry Travers as Dr. Cranley
Gloria Stuart as Flora Cranley
Release Date1933
Language(s)English
Running Time 71 minutes

I decided to watch the original 1933 release of The Invisible Man to get ready for Leigh Whannell’s reboot of the same. As someone who’s read the original book by H.G. Wells I knew what to expect but was still pleasantly surprised at how well Whale managed to capture the spirit of the book and make it come to life on the big screen. The story follows Dr.Griffin, a scientist who finds himself invisible after an experiment goes wrong. Unbeknownst to him his invisibility concoction triggers madness and aggression, causing him to engage in some hilarious, but heinous moments of violence. As his condition progresses, his colleagues seek to contain him before he can do any more harm.

For the most part the story follows the beats of the book pretty well, so if you like the book you should like the movie. However, the motivation for Griffin’s experiments are changed in this adaptation to give the story a more compact theme and sense of relatability. I think the change works and makes the interactions between Griffin and his former acquaintances more interesting. It also gives the story more of a cautionary tale vibe. The pursuit of knowledge for any end must be counterbalanced by caution and restrain. Otherwise it can end up undoing what it was sought out to help deal with. It’s something all of us can end up learning from.

Despite being a movie from 1933, the movie never feels like its age . John Fulton, John Mescall, and Frank Williams make the titular invisible man really feel as he should. When Griffin takes off his clothes, only the areas without anything to cover them are see through. The transition from clothing to nothing is near seamless and I can only imagine how much fun this must have been to see in theaters back when it came out. Granted, the effects only feel as held together as they do because of Claude Rains’s performance. He manages to portray the madness of a man who can no longer be seen purely through the emotional range in his voice or from the very physical and intimidating presence he gives his movement. He may not be visible in the traditional sense, but it seems like he didn’t get the memo, because he absolutely owns the screen when he’s on the big screen.

The most surprising fact is Whale manages to do all of this in a mere 77 minutes. There’s mystery, comedy, romance, and horror and no element ever takes away from another. They all work in tandem to keep the story fresh and interesting from start to finish. There’s always a sense of progression and growth. Characters change in their decision making and it’s reflected in the way scenes play out. For example, early on when townspeople come after the Griffin, it’s almost comical. He mocks and messes with the disorganized group and it feels like child’s play. Later on when his pursuers realize what they’re dealing with, their approach becomes more defined and serious. Details like this make the whole piece feel organic.

REPORT CARD

TLDRThe Invisible Man is a classic for a reason. Whale’s managed to capture what makes H.G. Well’s novella so resonant, while making it more relatable to a mainstream audience. From the immaculate pacing to the genuinely surprising special effects, this story of a scientist maddened by invisibility should entertain anyone.
Rating10/10
GradeA+

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Review: Upgrade

Director(s)Leigh Whannell
Principal CastLogan Marshall-Green as Grey
Simon Maiden as STEM
Betty Gabriel as Detective Cortez
Harrison Gilbertson as Eron
Benedict Hardie as Fisk
Release Date2018
Language(s)English
Running Time 100 minutes

Grey’s a technophobic mechanic living in a future cyberpunk styled world whose life flips upside down after a brutal altercation leaves him as a quadriplegic. When he’s offered the choice to implant STEM, a technology that would fix the connection between his brain and nerves allowing him to move, he takes it in the hopes of gaining the ability to enact his own revenge. The result’s a genre-blending adventure with precise and sharp action scenes, fun bits of black humor, exciting thriller sequences, and a healthy dose of body-horror to boot.

This is a multifaceted story about humanity’s relationship with technology and the dangers of becoming absorbed by our creations. The technology available to the characters is both heavily futuristic – fully functional smart homes, voice operated cars, etc – but still has room for analog elements like manual cars. The contrast gives the setting a strange distant, but eerily close enough feeling which makes its message hit harder. The movie questions our general orientation towards technology from how often to how strongly we should use it. Before the incident, Grey exhibits a lot of autonomy. He doesn’t like using new technology and takes a kind of pride in his ability to perform tasks manually. That gives him a sense of purpose. The story painstakingly takes the time to juxtapose his resistance to tech with society’s wholehearted embrace of it. After he’s left immobile, he’s despondent. Despite having the technology available to do the tasks he needs to do, he finds no solace in existence. The loss of tactile interactivity is a death knell, and until he’s present with the possibility of it coming back , he doesn’t see a point in life. It’s a situation that raises some interesting questions about our sense of perception and evaluation. Is STEM no longer technology because Grey is using it as a conduit to control his own nerves, imbuing with some kind of human element? Why is using the other voice technology to help him as a quadriplegic not a conduit in a similar vein? If there is no difference , then it’s just a question of using technology to help achieve a purpose in life without overshadowing it. If there is a difference, then Grey’s choice is meaningful in how it presents the tumultuous agency issues we face when given tools that can do more than needed.Though the story’s exploration of these ideas isn’t as fleshed out as I’d want it to be,it’s certainly stylish enough to entertain you while giving you just enough food for thought.

If you saw Venom and wished the movie focused on and developed Tom Hardy’s relationship with the symbiote to a greater degree , this is the movie for you. The duo have tense moments, buddy-cop moments, light conversations, Q/A sessions, and everything in between. It feels like a fleshed out relationship and is the central focus of the story. STEM’s foreign presence in Grey’s body presents some agency issues as the two seek to mediate control over the flesh and blood body they both inhabit. STEM asks for permission to do certain acts and Grey permits them. This dynamic is accentuated by Marshall-Green’s great performance. He sells the weird not-in-control of body sensation that we see, and it genuinely feels like he’s just a passenger letting the driver, STEM, do it’s own thing. It’s a strange quandary ,because it’s all consensual. It’s a genius move that lets STEM work as a stand in for technology in general . We can choose to use it for set purposes and retain a sense of independence at the cost of doing “more” work, or we could let it do more work at the cost of less control. Or is it even a loss of control if we permit it? I won’t spoil where the conversation goes, but I can say that it’s presented in a way that’ll keep you engaged even if you aren’t that interested in the social commentary proper.

Whannell knows how to deliver crowd pleasing fights, and I was elated at how the camera moves and tilts at sharp technical angles. You can tell there’s a mechanical element involved and the choreography feels crisp and distinct. I could feel every single blow and felt myself almost moving along with the camera, like a flurry of quick, calculated strikes. The fast paced nature of the movement also gives way to some quick shock scares that are used sparingly to great effect. Furthermore, a lot of the violent scenes are clever and take full advantage of the environment the story takes place in. There’s one during the second act that had me both wincing in pain but also crying in laughter at how ridiculous it would be to die in such a fashion.

My biggest problem with the movie is outside of Grey and STEM, none of the other characters really stand out. I liked some of the antagonists, but outside of the final villain , no one else ever gets development that doesn’t feel paper thin. There are attempts made at introducing some faux human vs upgraded human schism ,references to the mistreatment of veterans , and some ideas of class division but, like the antagonists,they get left to the wayside. It’s a shame because I think all of these threads had the potential to be layered with each other to create something next level, but unfortunately nothing ever really jives with each other enough to give the movie any extra kick. This issue becomes even more apparent in the ending, which simultaneously suffers because of the under developed antagonistic forces while being chilling and horrifying because of the well-developed final villain.

REPORT CARD

TLDRUpgrade follows a quadriplegic man who agrees to undergo a surgery to move again. The twist? All his actions are mediated by a little microchip called STEM that talks and works with him to move his body. This cyberpunk body horror with healthy doses of both black comedy and action in an ambitious attempt at analyzing humanity’s relationship/increasing dependence on technology. Not everything worked, but what did work stuck with me.
Rating8.8/10
GradeB+

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Review: The Void

Director(s)Steven Kostanski
Jeremy Gillespie
Principal CastAaron Poole as Daniel
Kenneth Welsh as Dr.Richard Powell
Kathleen Munroe as Allison
Daniel Fathers as Vincent
Mik Byskov as Simon
Release Date 2016
Language(s)English
Running Time90 minutes

When a group of people find themselves trapped in an isolated hospital , surrounded on the outside by hooded cultists and on the inside by grotesque Lovecraftian abominations, they’re forced to work with each other to survive the night. Even though the resulting story feels a bit contrived and convenient in how it plays out, it’s a satisfying homage to 80’s B Horror movies and knocks it out of the ballpark with its creatures effects. If you’ve been itching for cosmic horror that nails the aesthetic, this is it.

The movie shines when it comes to its presentation. It’s obvious how much effort when into the creature animatronics/effects. They’re dripping with that otherworldly dread that manages to get under your skin. The camera doesn’t shy away from showing these mangled monstrosities in all their glory. They’re not hidden away in the shadows or obfuscated by some lighting/visual effect. Likewise the makeup/prosthetic work done for the antagonist is captivating and perfectly feels otherworldly but serious. Once the third act starts, things just go fully bonkers and it’s a joy to watch the chaos unfold on the screen. There’s always something that catches your eye in how strange or revolting it looks. I’m not lying when I say that the aesthetic work here is on par with The Thing, and if that’s not an endorsement nothing is.

The story oozes with mystery from the way that character relationships are revealed to the meaning of certain images/visual motifs. It’s cool and provides for interesting discussion afterwards, but I thought that the story was missing too much of a solid base for the mystery to add nuance. The movie flirts with ideas about death ,rebirth, and moving forward but they’re barely given anytime to marinate , because they’re shrouded in imagery and never examined in a way that unfolds naturally. If the movie had spent just a few more moments explaining certain character decisions, then I think the the whole piece would have felt more connected in what it’s trying to accomplish. It’s not like the movie is shy about utilizing exposition. Most of the relationships between characters are told between strange expository dialogue and the majority of the “mystery” is revealed by the antagonist in the third act. However, in spite of giving us so much information, none of it ever amounts to anything that’d push the movie over the hump into something amazing. If you’re going to tell us this much, you might as well tell us just enough to feel like the story did it’s own unique thing. It’s a shame because I liked a lot of the surface level ideas the movie wanted to talk about but just couldn’t get into how vague and the sloppy the themes came across.

REPORT CARD

TLDRThe Void tells the story of a group of strangers who are forced to fend off a hooded cultists and Lovecraftian monsters. Thought the movie doesn’t push the genre forward and feels like it relies on mystery too much , it’s so visually stunning and well put together that you won’t find yourself nitpicking too much. This movie has some of the best creature effect work since John Carpenter’s The Thing, so if you’re looking for a fun and quick cosmic horror movie, look no further.
Rating8.1/10
Grade B

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Review: The Similars

Director(s)Isaac Ezban
Principal CastGustavo Sanchez Parra as Ulises
Cassandra Ciangherotti as Irene
Humberto Busto as Alvaro
Carmen Beato as Gertrudis
Santiago Torres as Ignacio
Fernando Becerril as Martin
Catalina Salas as Rosa
Release Date2015
Language(s)Spanish
Running Time 90 minutes

When 7 people find themselves trapped in at a bus station during a hurricane, tensions run high as eerie disturbances racket up. As the characters get more desperate to leave the situation, they realize that an “illness” is slowly spreading, threatening to infect every member of the group. What follows is a series of harrowing encounters and communicative breakdowns as the group tries to figure out the best way to weather the storm- physical and supernatural.

I’ve seen a lot of reviews compare this to The Twilight Zone, and while I can certainly see the references (hell Ezban talks about how the show influenced him), the movie has its own distinct voice and flair. The first half of the movie is tinged with a sense of mystery as the different members of the group slowly make their way into the situation and introduce themselves. As things go wrong, it’s hard to determine exactly what’s happening and why what is happening is happening the way that it is. When answers are revealed, the movie takes on a more direct horror like feeling with some genuinely chilling scenes of violence. By the time the movie ends, the realization of what happened truly hits, and the piece shines as something unique.

The movie has a lot to do with difference and the way we categorize people based on our perspectives of the world and the levers of power we have access to. Character groupings/alliances constantly change as each member learns more about others or gains a tactical advantage that lets them dictate the group’s pace. It’s an interesting exploration of human social interaction and the horror comes from determining at exactly what point the parameters for those interactions break. Are people a reflection of our perception along with some identifiable “objective” knowledge or is everything really just a matter of perspective and power? It’s an interesting topic and the movie broaches it from a terrifying vantage point.

This is the first movie I’ve seen with such a desaturated color palette. I was sure it was black-and-white to begin with, but after a few scenes realized that there were tiny splotches of color everywhere. It gives the already dreary movie an even bleaker feeling. The movie is left feeling gray with slight signs of life, and that aesthetic perfectly compliments the subject matter. The practical effects/makeup department also deserves kudos for nailing the aesthetic of the horrifying transformation the characters are trying to avoid. It feels distinct and real enough to get under the skin, without being so over the top so as to distract from the situation.

Given that the story is set during the Mexican student protests of 1968, before the Tlatelolco massacre, I expected politics to be more of a major feature of the movie. It’s not that it’s not utilized. Story beats line up with the beats of the protests and the parallels between the situations are definitely there. Character’s make mention of the turmoil and it’s even featured on the radio. However, it’s kind of cast aside to the background of the story, as another general way we otherize/categorize people. Its utilization feels more generic which is a shame, because the tidbits of intersection we get between horror and politics is interesting to mull over. I only wish the movie took the next step.

REPORT CARD

TLDRThe Similiars feels like an episode of The Twilight Zone with a distinct Mexican flair and sense of intrigue. The story of individuals trapped in a bus station, unable to leave and desperate to avert a mystery illness should keep fans of the genre intrigued from start to finish. Though I wish the movie went farther in incorporating its distinct political setting into the story, its exploration of the human element and what makes relationships tick is more than interesting to mull about by itself.
Rating8.9/10
GradeB+

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