Alan Tudyk as Tucker Tyler Labine as Dale Katrina Bowden as Allison Jesse Moss as Chad
Release Date
2010
Language(s)
English
Running Time
89 minutes
You wouldn’t expect it from the title, but Tucker and Dale vs. Evil is a heartwarming, hilarious, bloody good time of a movie. It follows a group of college aged kids who go to a forest to camp out. They run into a pair of hillbillies, Tucker and Dale, who they immediately typecast as murderous degenerates. As the misunderstanding between the two groups rises, blood starts flowing, and utter chaos ensues.
The story is crisp and to the point. No joke ever feels like it overstays its welcome and the creativity in execution and sense of comedic timing is immaculate. There are dark comedic moments that’ll have you laughing and looking away from the screen, but there are also genuinely funny moments that you’d see in a more lighthearted comedy. Somehow, the movie manages to combine both of them seamlessly leading to a unique comedic feel. The movie is narratively sound as well. The ending has a lot of interesting twists that are both hilarious but give the movie more of a thematic bite. It’s immensely satisfying to watch everything play out. The movie knows exactly what it wants to be and how to get there.
Despite all the absurdity on the screen, the movie boils down a story about misunderstanding and projection. The way that it explores that via the characters and their actions and subsequent revelations is a constant reminder to not fall prey to faulty first impressions. This including perceptions of oneself. Often times, the person who stops us from achieving our potential , is our insecurities. The movie is just as much about the way we count ourselves out, as it is about how we turn others into caricatures based on certain attributes. It might not be the most nuanced message, but it’s conveyed with such a deft hand that you can’t help but appreciate it. Plus, it’s not like the message is bad or anything. The world could do with people judging others less.
None of this is to say the movie is perfect. Despite doing a great job with its leads and the leader of the college kid/main antagonist, Chad (aptly named dare I say) , the rest of the characters fall to the wayside. They exist for the sake of the plot and feel like joke extensions.I would have loved to see them developed with their own personalities to add to the layers of commentary and comedy at play. Furthermore, the setup for some of the kills also pushes the limits of believable. Yes, it’s a comedy movie and is supposed to be over the top, but there’s a threshold to how dumb a character can be.
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TLDR
Tucker & Dale vs. Evil is comedy about the pitfalls of misunderstanding and making improper assumptions. The movie is hilarious and proceeds at a brisk pace with twists and turns that should keep you entertained from start to finish. Some of the characters and their decisions feel a bit over the top, but you’ll hardly notice it as you’re laughing at the absurdity of it all.
Rating
9.1/10
Grade
A
Go to Page 2 for the spoiler discussion. Go to Page 3 to view this review’s progress report .
This movie proves immensely hard to review. I think I’ve written,deleted, and re-written this review multiple times but nothing seems to really encapsulate the difficulty that is The House That Jack Built. The movie follows Jack, a serial killer with OCD, who recounts a series of his murders juxtaposed against a discussion of art, architecture, violence, and beauty . It’s a one of the kind movie that isn’t something everyone should watch.
The movie is brutal. Not just brutal as in gore. Brutal as in some of the scenes in the movie are genuinely depraved, intentionally made to just shock you and offend your senses. There are awful scenes involving animals and children. Some people might think the movie is overindulgent in its violence. It can definitely feel misogynistic as each victim feels more and more like a caricature of women being violated. They’re nothing like real people. The thing is, that’s the point. The excessive focus on these victims is artistic preference , not a larger commentary on women. Or is it?
The movie’s violence is in service of questioning the very idea of what counts as proper art. Is it just pieces that follow the lines and dictates of a sensible society? At a surface level a lot of Jack’s tales feel incredibly unrealistic and I can see a lot of people feeling like Jack is making fun of the situations for the sake of lavish scenes with gratuitous violence. But on a closer look , it is precisely these exaggerations and flourishes that highlight just how sick Jack is. We’re never told he’s narrating these stories as they’ve exactly happened. It’s all according to his interpretation of the stories. Given his narcissistic and obsessive personality, it’s not far-fetched to assume that each of these interactions is part truth and part caricature. Figuring out what’s what changes the way these scenes play out and also what they mean in the grander scheme of what the movie sets out to critique.
The movie is edited in a way that makes the subject matter more thematically poignant. Jack narrates each of his murders in the first person to an unseen person, Verge. The murders play, but are accompanied by commentary, tangents by Jack, and cut-aways to “genuine” pieces of art(his own works included). The movie is interspersed in between these sections, almost a provocation that the movie is high art in a similar fashion. It gives the movie a strange introspective documentary feeling that keep it feeling sophisticated, while also provoking discussion on the position of the movie in relation to what we consider aesthetic.
Matt Dillon is absolutely stunning as the lead. He captures obsessive disorder combined with quirky serial killer in a way that feels like sitcom gone horribly wrong. If you’ve watched Monk by Andy Breckman, then just imagine Adrian Monk + a bucket of murder maniac + two cups of art enthusiast and you should have a close enough picture of Jack. Without his nonchalant, eccentric attitude and prioritization of issues, the movie wouldn’t work. His performance gives the movie a dark comedic feeling. He does awful things, but the way he processes and acts in regards to those actions is hilarious. There are moments where I was shocked at the violence, and then within a few minutes I was laughing again. It’s messed up.
The way that von Trier approaches violence is both horrifying and depressing. The movie constantly reiterates that violence is kind of constitutive of all human interaction. The universe is uncaring and no one out there will really help you. The way the movie hammers the point is unrelenting and I was left feeling fairly alone in a weird existential way after watching. This is not the movie you watch if you want to feel good about life.
However, the violence at some point threatens to become too distracting. I was never bored during the movie, but I did struggle to understand the point of each story in relation to the overarching narrative. There are some horrifying scenes, yes, but they felt like they did the same thing thematically. That’s kind of the point of the movie, but it came off as overindulgent to me. It’s funny because Verge, on a number of occasions, would voice the concerns I was having just as I was having them , making it feel as if I was having a dialogue with Jack and by extension von Trier. It doesn’t make me think the movie is less indulgent, but it makes me appreciate it more.
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TLDR
The House That Jack Built is as provocative piece about art, its limits, and the ever present violence in the world that seemingly never goes away. It’s excessive to the point of over-indulgence, but in a way that makes von Trier’s point nice and clear. Nihilistic and styled to a T – watch this movie if you can handle some real depravity that’s intended to offend. There’s a lot to think about underneath.
Rating
9.9/10
Grade
A+
Go to Page 2 to view this review’s progress report .
NOTE: The review contains minor spoilers for the movie. They’re nothing that would spoil your entertainment of the movie (unlike trailers which will mislead you). Everything I spoil is fairly obvious and necessary for me to give a more coherent review.
I love both Requiem for a Dream and Black Swan, the latter of which I found so entertaining that I wrote my first (and currently only, I promise I’m writing more) piece of analysis on it. So when I saw Aronofsky was directing another horror movie with Jennifer Lawrence as the lead, I was all in. Unfortunately, after my first viewing I was kind of let down, especially after I read the director’s interviews about the movie. I just felt like the experience chalked up to a whole lot of nothing. A year later, I came upon the movie again and just ended up watching it on a whim – maybe it was the Hunger Games binge I was on, but that’s a story for another day. Anyways, I watched it again, this time fully aware of the allegory and the authors intent, but this time I liked it a lot more. It was strange how much I ended up enjoying certain sequences. I could swear it was like I was watching a different movie. Aronofsky ‘s allegory is a lot more interesting and provocative than I first thought, even if it feels a bit myopic, but it requires a certain frame of mind.
The story of mother! follows her (mother) and Him, the latter being a famous poet trying to finish his a new work and the former being the keeper of the house, decorating and furnishing it. As mother goes around the house she sees a strange heartbeat in the house. Soon afterwards, a guest comes over and slowly all hell breaks loose and mother finds herself dealing with unwanted visitors. The movie is allegorical- that’s not a secret. There’s the story of Adam and Eve, Abel and Cain, the old vs New testament, the birth of Christ, and everything in between. The imagery is obvious and incredibly visceral, leaving a deep impact on the viewer. Him is God and the mother is Earth, so the movie is also an allegory of the relationship of Earth to religion and people. If this summary seems too pretentious or full of itself, then skip the movie. You probably won’t like it. The psychological horror in the movie is subtle and slowly evolving until it crescendos in the third act. If you don’t like “slow burners” you might also want to skip this one. For those of you left, you’re in for something gorgeous.
I love weird movies like this. I think my initial irritation with the movie came from the mis-marketing of it ( I thought it was going to be some kind of normal home invasion story) and a misunderstanding of the cool interactions between the different themes in the movie. Yes, there’s the obvious one that Aronofsky tells us, but if you take that together with other smaller moments you get a neat looking picture. The connection between religion, sin, forgiveness, and the environment is provocative. My only real issue is that it all feels a bit too nihilistic. If there was a bit more characterization during certain parts, then I think the movie could’ve done something truly masterful, but as it is, it paints a pretty pessimistic picture of the world with no way out.
This movie is definitely a horror movie. I’ve seen a lot of people saying the opposite, which I think is kind of ridiculous. There are harrowing sequences that are both grotesque and intended to disgust and shock the audience. The pacing and editing in the latter half of the movie create a real tension. Yes, you know where the movie is going to go but it does a hell of a job at ramping up the absurdity of its allegory at every turn. The movie is mainly shot from the perspective of her – either behind her or looking at her face. The audience is along for the ride, so as mother gets more tense and harrowed, so do we. It’s confusing, chaotic, and disturbing, and in its own way beautiful. You really feel for her. Sound design is the main reason this works so well. It’s minimalist, so the normal barrier erected between the audience and the screen feels gone. The sounds of the house are what come out distinctly. Put together, the experience puts you directly with the character in horrible situations. If you let yourself experience the movie, instead of just watching it, you may enjoy it a lot more. I think that’s why I liked the movie a lot more the 2nd time.
The main problem with the movie is it only works at the level of allegory. I wish it was more a home invasion movie or even a psychological horror in the more traditional sense with the allegory working on less “literal” level. The best movies can tie in a fully formed plot and tap on the allegory/metaphors as another layer – so the movie can be viewed in a traditional sense, and also in whatever subtext the director/viewer extracts. This movie only works as the latter which is why it may not work for a lot of people.
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TLDR
mother! is a thought provoking allegory about God, the environment, humanity and the way their respective relationships intersect. If you like purely allegorical movies then this should be straight in your ballpark. I wish it was less nihilistic, but I’m nonetheless impressed with the creativity on display.
Rating
9.2/10
Grade
A
Go to Page 2 to view this review’s progress report .
A girl walks along the side of a road. A car drives down the the road. The girl disappears from view. The girl runs in front of the car. The car crashes against a tree and the girl walks towards the front seats of the car. The red colored tite card appears in silence. The movie starts with a jolt in the form of a car crash. A young woman appears for a moment. A car shows up. The woman is gone. Then as the sound of the car gets nearer she jumps out and causes the vehicle to swerve and crash. The sound of strings get more intense as she approaches the front doors of the car….and then silence. The title card comes in in bright bloody red.
A young woman walks down a long road, seemingly fading into the trees around her. A cut reveals a car coming from the other side of the road. However, when the camera cuts back, the girl is now missing. As the sound of the car approaches the frame, the girl runs out from the trees, jolting both the driver and the audience. The car swerves to try and avoid her but ends up crashing against a tree – the previously alive members of the car now rendered pieces of flesh. The girl lies for a few moments before getting up and walking towards the car and opening up a front door; her movement is accompanied by harsh strings which burst to a crescendo before dissipating into silence as the blood red title card bursts onto screen.
Justine (Garance Marillier) asks for food and declines any meat. Her visage is covered by the reflection of the flesh she’s refused. Justine(Garance Marillier) realizes some meat has gotten into her food and informs her mother (Joana Preiss) and father(Laurent Lucas). Justine(Garance Marillie) and her father(Laurent Lucas) exchange a smile as her mother berates the restaurant for the slip-up. The family is vegetarian and meat is inexcusable. Justine (Garance Marillier) looks out, bracing herself for her future college experience. She notices her mother(Joana Preiss) and father(Laurent Lucas) lovinly regard one another. Justine(Garance Marillier) puts her hands between her legs and starts to rub them in anticipation? Justine’s dog comes into the frame and disrupts her sense of zen. Justine (Garance Marillier) is left alone in the parking lot of her school with her sister nowhere in site. This moment of violence is juxtaposed by a scene of innocence. A young woman, Justine, gets food with her parents at a restaurant. She tries to avoid getting any meat on her plate but despite making her intentions known, flesh still makes its way into her mouth. She informs her mother who berates the restaurant over causing her vegetarian family grief, before then departing with her family to be dropped off for her first year at veterinary school. While they drive along, she notices passions between her parents, passions which engender an idyllic state of peace. This moment of comfort is interrupted by her dog which leaps into the frame, marking the end of her “childhood” and the start of her coming-of-age journey as she’s dropped off at her new school, forced to make her way without parental help anymore.
The film cuts to another young woman, Justine (Garance Marillier) purchasing food and the burst of violence which came earlier seemingly bears no relation. Justine is framed against a glass counter; her image has an assortment of meats projected against it – an image of flesh rendered from an animal juxtaposed against an image of flesh moving in the form of a human. The food worker asks Justine if she wants protein to which Justine responds she doesn’t want meat. However, as she sits down with her mother (Joana Preiss) and father (Laurent Lucas) to eat, she notices something off with her food: the presence of animal flesh. Quickly, she informs her mother of the issue who promptly gets up to ream the kitchen staff over their mistake: her family is vegetarian and the meat should have never been there. Justine and her father exchange smiles with one another; this situation is one that is familiar to them and they’re both used to Justine’s mother’s militant reactions.
After the debacle, the family unit makes their way to drop Justine off at veterinary school for the start of her first semester. As the drive unfolds, Justine notices the warmth her parents have for one another and feels the rays of sunshine brush over her. She places her hands between her legs and starts rubbing them, but her idyllic moment is interrupted by her dog who starts to lick her face – this time a live animal present in the family unit. Her parents inform her of the location of the grocery store, the morgue, and the medicinal area: a factory of flesh where bodies are rendered as food, as cadavers, and as patients to be treated.
The duo drops Justine off under the assumption that her sister, Alexia (Ella Rumpf), who also attends the school as a sophomore, will pick her up despite commenting that Alexia’s tendencies make her hard to control. Consequently, after her parents leave, Justine is made to walk to school herself, her sister nowhere in sight, the first of many hurdles to come.
Adrien (Rabah Nait Oufella) introduces himself to Justine (Garance Maraillier) as her roomate. He explains he’s queer while holding a green ski-pole. Justine (Garance Marillier) and Adrien’s (Rabah Nait Oufella) room is ransacked by masked “terrorists” who break and destroy everything while forcing the two of them out. The first years are forced to crawl in their undergarments – a process of humiliation……which is then revealed to be nothing more than hazing. After completing the first part of the initiation, the first years are invited to a rave. Justine (Garance Marillier) walks through the maze of carnal pleasures. She notices Adrien (Rabah Nait Oufella) making out with another guy. Justine (Garance Marillier) runs into Alexia (Ella Rumpf) at the party. Her sister didn’t have time to pick her up but is here at a rave. Burts of light reveal that Justine (Garance Marillier) and Alexia’s path goes through rooms filled with animal monstrosities including a mock-up of a spider-sheep. Alexia (Ella Rumpf) shows Justine (Garance Marillier) a picture of their parents after having done their own initiation. Justine (Garance Marillier) tries to get some rest after spending the entire night partying, but her efforts to get some peace and quiet are thwarted when she hears Adrien getting ready to have sex. Justine’s first day proves to be unadulterated chaos. Instead of getting a woman as a roommate, she gets a queer man. Then her possessions and room are broken into and ransacked by masked hoodlums who force her and the other first years to engage in humiliating trials before then revealing that this is just part of a hazing initiation. Upon finishing the first task, the students are invited to a rave. The torrent of pleasures is too much for Justine to handle given her disposition and she stumbles to find a foothold. It’s at this point she runs into her sister, Alexia, who offers her a respite from the rave in the form of a vision of the future. Alexia shows Justine a picture of their parents who also finished the same initiation Justine is going through now – a sign of approval.
Unfortunately, this is the smallest of Justine’s problems. As night falls, she’s woken up by a man, Adrien(Rabah Nait Oufella) who intrudes her room holding a ski pole. She asks him what he’s doing and he informs her that they’re roommates. Given that she requested another woman for a roommate, she’s understandably upset by the presence of a man, but Adrien immediately attempts to assuage her concerns by admitting that he’s queer, offering his sexuality as an explanation for why the college would place them together. According to the system, woman and queer man are interchangeable, or so he suggests.
However, before Justine can process this new revelation, her dorm room is broken into by a wild horde of masked bandits who force all the first-year students out into the hallway after throwing their possessions out of the window. Like the car crash that inaugurates the film, this burst of violence is random and seemingly lacks purpose. The fresh batch of students are forced to strip down and crawl in humiliating fashion by the masked group, who then reveal that the absurd theatrics are just part of a hazing ritual; the violence is thus rendered coherent by social practice. Upon finishing the first part of the ritual, the group is invited to a rave, which cinematographer Ruben Impens gloriously captures in a one take that follows the innocent Justine as she’s thrust into a realm of excessive enjoyment.
Vibrant blues and reds color the walls, disorienting a Justine who desperately seeks footing in the sweaty, chaotic, throng of bodies. Every extra on the screen moves and dances with such passion that the rave scene gains a vitality of its own, moving and proceeding in such a way as to swallow Justine. First, she sees Adrien and moves towards him but backs off after seeing him in passionate throws with another man. Eventually as she traverses the labyrinth of pleasure, she runs into her Alexia and embraces her. Finally, the sisters are united and Alexia excitedly takes her little sister to another location to show her something.
The students tranquilize a horse to get it ready for a procedure. The horse’s eyes show a vitality that persists in spite of its incapacitated nature. Justine (Garance Marillier) showcases a similiar vitality behind her eyes, as she stands shocked at the nature of the procedure and the gaze of the horse upon her. The powerful beast lies fully immobile and gazes onwards. Justine’s first lesson has her witnessing a horse being tranquilized for a procedure. The majestic beast capable of immense strength is immediately rendered immobile. However, it’s vitality persists and is rendered in its gaze, a gaze which Justine seems to share as she stares at the creature frozen in fear herself.
Classes begin and the students witness a surgery procedure done on a horse. Ordinarily so energetic and powerful, the creature is reduced to a passive state via tranquilizers. However, the vitality driving the horse is still very much present in its eyes, which gaze directly at the screen. Justine’s shocked expression at the situation strikes a parallel – both gazes reveal an animalistic drive waiting to be released. Consequently, the green background takes on a feeling of domesticated vitality. Green is both “alive” and “in control”.
Justine (Garance Marillier) notices a splotch of red liquid drip onto her white coat as she takes her class picture. The splotch turns into a barrage, as a torrent of of blood falls onto Justine (Garance Marillier) and her class. Justine (Garance Marillier) and her classmates’ faces are coevered in blood. The class photo is taken. This group isn’t traitorous. Adrien (Rabah Nait Oufella) eats his rabbit kidney as Justine (Garance Marillier) protests eating the same due to her vegetarian diet. Alexia (Ella Rumpf) eats the rabbit kidney instead of supporting her sister like their mother would have. Alexia(Ella Rumpf) feeds Justine (Garance Marillier) the rabbit kidney. Adrien (Rabah Nait Oufella) helps Justine (Garance Marillier) as she recoils from the impact of ingesting meat. Justine’s class experiences first a baptism by blood followed by sacrament in the form of rabbit kidneys as proof of their commitment to the initiation. While Justine accepts the former, she refuses the latter on the grounds of her vegetarian beliefs. She calls out to her sister for help in the same way she called her mother at the start of the film. However, unlike their mother, Alexia has no interest in helping Justine regulate herself and force feeds her sister the piece of flesh. The experience both disorients and traumatizes Justine, who is forced to rely on Adrien to stay on her feet afterwards.
In comparison, the color red, while also being “alive”, is far from control and expands excessively. As Justine stands with the other first years for their photo, she notices a drop of red fall on her bright white coat before suddenly being engulfed in gallons of blood along with her classmates. Now her years picture has been finished; so far, she is not a traitor. She too is marked and the red blood her parents and sister were marked by in the past.
She and Adrian make their way to a line serving “something” all conscripts have to consume. When Justine gets to the front of the line, she figures out that the “something” is nothing other than a raw rabbit kidney. In protest, Juliet argues she’s a vegetarian and should not have to engage in the deed, going so far as to call Alexia to confirm their family’s dietary restrictions. Her outburst makes sense given her orientation towards the non-human: she believes non-human animals have rights and dispositions that would render harm done to them as ethically problematic as harm done to humans. If she eats rabbit flesh, what’s to stop her from eating human flesh?
However, Alexia is not Justine’s mother; instead of helping Justine out, she instead eats a piece of the rabbit kidney and then feeds an emotionally devastated Justine another piece – baptism by meat. With her strict vegetarian lifestyle and ethical orientation now cracked, Justine’s sense of self and appetite are unbound – the barrier to a whole realm of actions are now open as her ethical consistency allows her to logically engage in more obscene interactions with flesh.
Raw is thus, in both a metaphorical and literal sense, an exploration of the limits of the body and the way violence to it is rendered coherent or excessive. Flesh is what holds the metaphorical trappings of the film together: animals and humans become the same through their capacity to be eaten and be sexualized. Practices towards flesh are rendered acceptable or unacceptable, not based on harm, but based on coherence with social norms.
At a visual level this is established in the colors themselves – both red and green represent an orientation towards vitality. The difference lies in obscenity – green is domesticated and red is excessive. It’s no coincidence that greens coincide with vegetables and red coincides with meat. As a vegetarian, Justine is virginal, innocent, and child-like. The first time the viewer sees her is dressed in a white unicorn t-shirt while being protected by her parents.
Then, as soon as Justine gets to college, she’s forced to grow up and deal with a world that tells her to enjoy at the cost of everything else. There are no parents left to demarcate and keep her insulated. In an environment filled with alcohol, sexual relations, ritualistic proceedings, and meat, it’s easy to see how someone could lose their grasp and succumb to the injunction to enjoy. Her cannibalistic desires are not merely excuse for gory violence but rather represent her longing to find herself. They come up at the same time her sexual desires awaken. Both desires related to the flesh arise in an environment where flesh is ubiquitous: college students looking to fornicate, animals waiting to be treated, cadavers lying in a morgue. Thus, Justine is forced to navigate the corporeal matrix of bodies in as many manners as she can, to get a better grasp on herself.
In this way, Raw rides the fine line between coming-of-age story about a young woman trying to find her place in world at large and David Cronenberg-esque body-horror that seeks to locate the line where animal instinct ends and human behavior begins. As a result, the story is able to both shock the audience with playful gore, but also play off those macabre moments in comedic fashion. A “seven minutes in heaven” session, which would be normally be an anxiety fueled place of hilarious sexual blunder, becomes darkly comedic when amped up with the possibility of cannibalism. An already awful situation just gets amped up to the next level which reveals something about the nature of the activity itself.
Through constantly juxtaposing both accepted and non-accepted forms of relationality to flesh, director and script-writer Julia Ducournau is able to demonstrate how the condemnation against something as seemingly excessive as cannibalism, is nothing more than an arbitrary construct. How is it bloodier than eating meat from an animal? Why is ethically more invasive than recording people’s downfalls and posting them online? What trait makes the practice more egregious than the hazing committed by the school’s seniors? These questions gain traction because Ducournau sequences the movie by first exposing a “prohibited” relationship to the flesh, demonstrating a counterpoint to that relationship that’s socially accepted, and then using then having the first relationship bleed into the guise of the second. Because she focuses on the body in such careful and clinical fashion, even the obscene relationships it brings about are rendered cognizable and comparable to more commonplace relationships. These connections are made all the more apparent because non-human animal bodies are present in abundance, providing a variety of counterpoints to the relations being shown.
Furthermore, the distinctive manner in which Ducournau directs the bodies of her actors highlights a corporeal malleability. In scenes with extras, everyone moves organically with explosions of difference happening in the tapestry of the frame. This ability to create points of difference extends to even the facial movements of the actors. In particular, Garance Marillierenlivens Justine in the subtle ways she intensifies her gazes, shifts her eyebrows, and re-centers her body weight transforming from dainty waif to predator. The corporeal possibilities inherent in the body become “actualized” which in turn gives the films themes a heftier flavor.
By quite literally showing the ways people mark one another in their actions via cannibalism itself, Raw serves as a powerful reminder of the way our bodies are constantly open to and in proximity of other bodies, rendering both avenues for enjoyment and suffering based on the orientation we approach them. Ducournau’s debut feature majestically weaves through the contours of the body to reveal the contingencies of our relationships, both to ourselves and our notion of humanity proper. And it somehow manages to do all this while remaining a charming and cognizable story that anyone, sans the extremely squeamish, can watch and enjoy.
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TLDR
Raw is an underappreciated horror gem of the 2010’s that deserves more recognition not only for its fresh and innovative take on women’s ability to relate in and to the world, but also for its perfect use of cannibalism as both horror and tool for metaphor. It’s a film that shocks, but then asks the viewer what exactly was shocking , forcing the viewer to confront the way they’ve normalized structured of discipline and violence.
Rating
10/10
Grade
S+
Go to Page 2for the spoiler discussion and more in-depth analysis. Go to Page 3 to view this review’s progress report .
Nicholas Cage as Nathan Gardner Madeleine Arthur as Lavinia Gardner Joely Richardson as Theresa Gardner Elliot Knight as Ward Phillips
Release Date
2019
Language(s)
English
Running Time
115 minutes
If you like Lovecraft or enjoy the story this movie is based on, please do yourself a favor and watch it. The feeling, tone, and aesthetic are all distinctly Lovecraftian but feel renovated for a modern era. Stanley has done a great job directing a modern story that disorients its audience while keeping what made the original story distinctive and memorable.
The story follows the Gardeners, a family living out in the sticks, trying to forge a new life as farmers. Then one day, a meteorite crashes in their year, painting the sky in a neon pink/purple and causing the earth to quake. Soon after, the Gardner’s notice some strange happenings going with mutations in their vegetation and wildlife. The story starts off slow, but after a certain moment in the latter half of the movie, things go absolutely off the rails in the best possible way.
Light spoilers here, but the titular colored light works to zoink out the psyche and perception of those affected by it. The movie spends a decent amount of time building up characters and their orientations towards life, so the changes they go through because of the light are genuinely unnerving manifestations of their inner drives. Watching each actor/actress go from point A to point B is entertaining and believable (for the most part). Cage in particular has a standout performance as the Gardener father, Nathan. He’s asked to go to dark strange places and it can get uncomfortable. At times, certain performances seem comical but I can’t tell if that’s because of the nature of the horror or the performance proper. Needless to say, there were a lot of moments I laughed. I don’t know if black comedy is how I’d describe it – it’s more perverse than what I normally associate with that.
The special effect work done is amazing. The lighting effects really ride the line on comical and mesmerizing and the balance achieved kept me staring at the screen. However, what I’m really talking about is the creature effects. I was immediately reminded me of some of the terrifying creatures from The Thing, but slightly touched up to look more modern. There are some nightmare moments from the movie that haven’t left me since I watched it – stuff that’ll stick to your head for a good while, especially if you let the experience take you.
The nature of the movie leaves it open to a lot of interpretation. My personal take is that the movie is about humanity’s relation to nature. We seek control and compartmentalize it , as though it’s an entity that exists beneath us as opposed to being something that should be treated with some kind of reverence. Nature can at any point turn and is impartial to those it takes. Nothing can really protect you no matter how safe you think you are. I’ve read Staley’s interview and can definitely see where he was coming from (and think that he managed to naturally depict a lot of what he talked about) . A friend I was watching with had his own interpretation, so what I’m saying is this is a good thinking movie. There’s not precise or clean answers and it invites discussion.
While I appreciate the changes made to the original story, I wish Stanley would have gone a bit further. A few of the scares feel more horrifying because of how they’re tied in to the characters respective fear/personality but it doesn’t happen for all the characters. It feels like an odd choice that could’ve been ironed out. It’s especially strange given some later character choices that just scream bad idea. You know the one where the audience is screaming, “No, you idiot don’t do that.” Granted you could just chalk those up to “X is crazy because of the light” but the movie feels smarter than that.
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TLDR
Color Out of Space should satisfy any fans of Lovecraftian/cosmic horror. It has splendid visuals, an absurd story, and some horrifying monstrosities that’ll haunt my nightmares for weeks to come. If you enjoyed Annihilation, give this a gander. It shares a lot of similarities but goes in a completely different direction – more horror, less sci-fi.
Rating
9.3/10
Grade
A
Go to Page 2 to view this review’s progress report .
Natalie Portman as Lena Oscar Isaac as Kane Jennifer Jason Leigh as Dr. Ventress
Release Date
2018
Language(s)
English
Running Time
115 minutes
If you haven’t already seen this movie, avoid the trailer because it spoils so much of the movie that I don’t understand why or how it was released.Now that I got that out of the way, Annihilation is one of the most ambitious science fiction movies I’ve seen in recent memory. The story follows a group of 5 scientists as they’re tasked with entering a zone enveloped by an alien aura known as “The Shimmer”.
This movie is a big discussion on creativity and its relation to the death drive. The Shimmer is filled with mutations that are either beautiful, horrifying, or some mixture of both. These creatures are not only meant to be horrifying, but are also used to provoke discussion on the nature of the alien substance. There are answers to its nature (the movie is fairly up-front about it), but the end of the movie is open enough to allow discourse on the meaning of it all. It’s a great movie to watch with friends and talk about afterwards because the movie does a great job of balancing giving direct answers and hinting at answers with multiple meanings. You could watch the movie straight up as a horror sci-fi movie with crazy sequences , but that would be a disservice to the layers going on. I’m not going to pretend to act like I got all of this on my first view. Honestly, the first time I saw this movie I really disliked a subplot focused on Lena, our protagonist. But on later viewings, I came to appreciate how it added to multiple themes in the movie. I still think it could’ve been done better, but I appreciate the reasoning behind it. Big Lovecraftian energy.
For those of you who are looking more for the sci-fi or the horror in the movie, don’t worry. The movie has them in spades. The movie might start off slow for some. There’s a lot of character work done (mainly exposition and introduction) here that pays off later, so I think it’s worth it, but I can see how it can feel grating. Thankfully, the movie soon transitions into “The Shimmer” and everything goes off the wheels. The visuals are jaw-dropping and watching the alien substance interact with everything is something you can’t stop looking at. Not to mention, the movie has one of the scariest creature moments in recent memory. It really stays with you. Once the 3rd act is underway, everything gets amped up another notch. The story and its themes come together in an audio-visual experience that’s wholly unique. In fact, the climax of this movie is a moment that’s stuck with me from the moment I watched it. It feels like a vision fully realized from the visual effects, to the art design, to the way that dialogue gives way to otherworldly tunes.
Every scientist feels developed and the audience gets a good insight into each of their personalities (even if some of that is done via the characters analyzing each other)They’re all good enough for the story and I could remember bits and pieces of them after I had first seen the movie. The cool thing about them is how the movie uses them all as foils to Lena which not only makes her decisions more interesting, but also nicely develops the themes.
The only issues with the film are some strange narrative choices. There’s a really odd framing device that’s used to explain a lot of the narrative. It feels almost like someone didn’t trust the audience to put the pieces together (which is false), so a lot of the movie comes to a painful standstill so that Lena can explain what we just saw to a room of people. It makes the movie feel bloated and I really wish it wasn’t there at all. The ending also feels odd – like it was tacked on to please audiences (which based on what I’ve read about production seems true). I don’t dislike it now, but I remember really thinking it was wonky on my first viewing.
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TLDR
Annihilation is a thought provoking look into humanity’s destructive and creativive capacities. The eye popping visuals are there to augment, not distract, from the cerebral sci -fi mystery. There are some story issues that make pacing a bit wonky, and the story takes a bit to start up, but once it does you’re in for something that can’t really be explained.
Rating
9.6/10
Grade
A+
Go to Page 2 to view this review’s progress report .
One day while randomly browsing YouTube, I found an raw trailer for this movie and was left in shock. It looked cutesy but then devolved into seemingly disparate situations of violence. I knew that I had to see what it was all about, so I waited till it came out with subs and proceeded to experience an audiovisual piece the likes of which I’ve never seen before.
The story picks up on Mitsuko, a shy high-schooler who’s busy writing poetry as she and her classmates head off on a trip. However, soon after this start, a gust of wind comes through and kills everyone on the bus besides Mitsuko. Streams of blood and guts envelop the screen and Mitsuko is forced to run away from the wind to survive.
What follows is a story that never lets up with WTF moments and sequences. Every time I thought I had a grasp on what the movie was, it went in a completely different direction, each as violent as the one preceding it. If you’re someone who likes having answers immediately, then this movie is going to get under your skin. Answers only come near the end of the third act and they’re still ambiguous at that. It’s a movie that assaults the senses with gore and absurdity while dragging the audience at breakneck speeds through a story that seemingly makes no sense. However, once things start clicking, the movie becomes something else entirely. I was floored with everything I had seen. The movie takes a lot of risks and I thought they more than payed off by the end.
Without getting into spoilers, I can say the movie’s analysis of agency is interesting and provocative. Just like Mitsuko, the audience never has a stable foundation to begin to determine what is and isn’t real. That’s because those perceptions are conditioned not only by our perspectives of ourselves but by the perspectives of those who control the levers of society. If we’re taught that certain protocol is the only way forward, then it becomes easy to see how true freedom can become hidden away. Sono takes this idea and then wonderfully infuses both a queer and feminist subtext into it, giving the idea a sense of nuance that most movies can only dream of. Multiple people can watch this movie and all of them can come away with different interpretations (outside of the blatant message of the movie). Even now the ending gets to me and makes me really think both of the meaning of the story and the way I contribute to a society that strips people of agency.
Now for my more squeamish readers, you might want to watch this one with a friend who can let you know when the gory stuff is over. The movie is filled with splatters and grotesque murders. The first time I watched it, I had to look away a few times because of how visceral the experience would get. I think it gives the movie a really distinctive feel, but I can see how it could turn people away.
REPORT CARD
TLDR
Tag is a movie that deserves to get seen by more people. It’s a masterclass in storytelling and has one of the most unique plots I’ve seen in a story. The way the mystery builds and resolves itself is shocking and thought provoking. If you like gore or art-house movies, you owe it to yourself to watch this.
Rating
9.8/10
Grade
A+
Go to Page 2 to view this review’s progress report .
The camera pushes out on the Annabelle doll.The nurses tell the figures flanking them about their haunting experience. The nurses throw the Annabelle doll away. Ed Warren (Patrick Wilson) comes into view.Ed (Patrick Wilson) and Lorraine (Vera Farmiga) Warren are now revealed. It’s revealed we’re watching a video. The opening scene transports us into the world of demons and mysticism, firmly placing us within the Warren’s camp without us even knowing it.
We open on a shot of a doll, Annabelle, staring directly at the us. The camera pushes out as we hear a pair of nurses recount their story regarding the doll to two unseen figures who flank them from both sides. The nurses explain that the doll asked for permission to move in with them, they gave that permission thinking the doll was a ghost, and then they experienced hauntings due to it. Unfortunately, despite their best efforts, they cannot get rid of the doll. They ask the unseen figures to help.
These figures, Ed (Patrick Wilson) and Lorraine (Vera Farmiga) Warren finally come into frame; they explain that the nurses are dealing not with a ghost but with a demon. We see a repetition of the first shot; the nurses are still being flanked by the Warrens on both sides, but this time the Warrens are visible. Their presence has come into effect and they’re in “control”. We cut once again to the face of the Annabelle doll before the screen gets grainy, and it’s revealed that what we’ve been watching is actually a tape recorded by the Warrens for presentation purposes in a classroom setting. Without knowing it, we’ve adopted the Warren’s point of view and been sucked into their world.
Under the title card resides a window encased in shadows. From this window we can see the Perron family. Roger (Ron Livingston) tries to persuade the family dog, Sadie, to come in. Wan is incredibly efficient in his filmmaking, choosing to naturally fade in from the title card to the window of the haunted house the story will take place in. He drops us in from behind the window and as the camera moves and “chases” the family, it almost feels like we’re in the house’s POV. In one fluid camera movement, we know that things are going to go poorly for this family.
It’s at this time the title crawl pops on the screen, informing us of the Warren’s history and the fact that what we’re about to watch is “based on the true story”. The camera continues tilting down past the title of the movie to a window right beneath; a seamless transition that lets us know that we’re entering the horror immediately. The darkness around the window fades away while the camera pushes forward, revealing a car and a moving truck driving towards the house. We see a the Perron family come out; we know that their upcoming journey will be one of terror. The camera tracks left to follow the family as they make their way in through the front door; the way the camera moves from the window to the door makes it feel like the house is alive and waiting for its upcoming owners.
Most of the family, a set of parents and five daughters, makes their way into the house. However, their dog, Sadie, refuses to come in. The camera moves down towards the floor, and hones in on the dog who refuses attempts to be coaxed into the house. Even if you didn’t know about the horror tropes regarding dogs being able to sense the supernatural, this disagreeable behavior is more than enough to confirm what we already know: bad times are coming.
Cindy (Mackenzie Foy) calls out to April. April (Kyla Deaver) finds a music box under the tree. The light around April (Kyla Deaver) becomes darker. The moment a hint of normalcy is put in, the windchimes, it’s supernaturally charged counterpart makes its appearance, the music box. This is made more apparent by the change in lighting, which goes from light and cheery to shaded and gloomy.
The Zombie’s “Time of the Season” plays in the background as Wan employs a fantastic tracking shot showcasing the family moving into the house. The eerie mood that’s been set up gives way for a few moments, while we get a “tour” of the entire house. One of the kids, Cindy (Mackenzie Foy) looks around for her windchimes to place at the front of the house; an source of music tries to establish its place . As she puts them up, she calls out to her younger sister, April (Kyla Deaver), to come into the house. Unbeknownst to her, April found a music box hidden under an ominous looking tree. She plays the music box at which point “Time of the Season” stops and the lighting becomes much darker; a nefarious source of music usurps the light and takes control.
The girls eat dinner and then play a variant of clapping hide-and-seek where the seeker has to place a blindfold on and gets to ask the hiders to clap up to 3 times to figure out where they are. The innocuous game meant to facilitate the girls finding one another fails, as instead, the girls end up finding the dark curse embedded in the house by cracking a barrier sealing the basement. This dark, grimy, underbelly of the house is thus unleashed and the “fun” truly begins.
Like his previous foray into the supernatural genre, Insidious, director James Wan’s The Conjuring also functions as a facelift of an older titan, or in this case titans, of the supernatural horror genre; this time he’s updating The Amityville Horror (1979) and The Exorcist instead of Poltergeist. From The Amityville Horror, he takes idea of a haunted house terrorizing a family, the theatricality of the haunting, and the subtext of economic plight in relation to haunting. There are multiple comments from the the father of the family, Roger (Ron Livingston) indicating that the family’s money is tied to the house and they have no way out, which solves any practical concerns we could raise to the family staying in such a location. From The Exorcist, he takes the notion of treating the supernatural as grounded and the idea of a metaphysical evil fighting a metaphysical good. Especially by the ending, it becomes clear that Wan is trying to introduce a notion of God and “true goodness” as a way to elevate the status of the haunting. The end result of combining all these factors would be a serious haunted house story with plenty of subtext to go around.
However, the end-result lands a bit ajar from this expectation. Unlike The Amityville Horror, The Conjuring is missing a scene of “honest” drama that ties the Perron family’s financial woes directly to the nature of the haunting. As Stephen King says, “Everything which The Amityville Horror does well is summed up in that scene,” whose implications make the connection between the haunted house and the financial troubles of the family clear. [1] King, S. (2010). Danse macabre. Gallery. Furthermore, the gravitas of The Exorcist arises from both the documentary-like shooting of the movie, which helps ground the horrific nature of the haunting and the honesty and severity by which it wrestles with the ideas of God and the divine. The theatricality Wan is going for runs against this and makes the depth he’s trying to achieve feel forced especially near the end of the film which is more focused on spectacle rather than spiritual catharsis.
But by pushing these ideas together and presenting them with his knack for dynamic set-pieces, Wan has still ended up creating one of the best horror movies of this side of the century and a blockbuster at that. By grounding the possession story via two families – one regular and powerless and the other spiritual and powerful – Wan is able to ensure that the hauntings, while not as thematically rich and textured as their base ideas would allow, have enough of a thematic throughline to develop on.
Wan spends a just enough time letting us breathe with the Perron’s, namely the girls, as they get try and adjust to the house. We get to hear some of their bickering and get a feeling for what their sisterly dynamic looks like. By the time the supernatural rumblings start, we have a good understanding of their personalities along with a few of their quirks – just enough to latch onto when the theatrics take hold.
The crux of the character work comes from the other family, the Warrens, who are given nearly as much, if not more, screen time than the haunted family themselves; this move is an improvement on even Insidious, whose attempts at giving the “exorcist” type character a more textured backstory is one of the better narrative pivots in the supernatural genre. The reason this usually never happens ,sans the best cases like The Exorcist, is because movies usually wants to spend their time building up our attachment to the subject of the hauntings so we care about what’s happening to them. As a result, there’s usually never time in the screen-play to develop the spiritual-type character to a level we care about.
Wan side-steps this issue by splitting screen-time between the two families and having their stories run in parallel to one another: usually, when something horrific happens to the Perron’s, we cut back to the Warrens. These cuts not only give the time needed to get to know and care about the Warren’s involvement in the story but also give Wan a way to neatly exposit to the us without it feeling ostentatious. He disguises the rules of the supernatural genre in scenes like interviews and college lectures; these movements not only give Via Farmiga and Patrick Wilson, the movie’s best two actors, time to show their chops, but they also help make sense of the hauntings proper. In one key scene transition, the Warrens explaining the sequencing of a haunting: infestation, oppression, possession; this is a perfect mapping for the three act structure of the movie and helps clue the audience in on how to interpret the “why” for the spectral occurrences.
Now, while I personally don’t enjoy the more grandiose spectacles The Conjuring goes for, I can appreciate the craft behind them, especially in the way they’re built up. By using longer than average takes and moving the camera along with the characters as they venture the house, Wan is able to generate a sense of constant paranoia; the stakes are apparent but there’s no way to escape the stifling tension. When the theatricalities begin, there’s little reliance on the distracting CGI that plagues many similarly plotted movies with many of the sequences utilizing in-camera tricks and practical effects. These make the the monstrosities feel like they have a physical presence which in turn exacerbates the feeling that the characters are always in a genuine danger.
This commitment to genuinely scaring the audience is why The Conjuring endures almost a decade after it’s release as a common favorite among the masses. In spite of narrative issues, the film manages to follow a distilled horror formula that emphasizes authenticity in the spectacle while remaining fun throughout it’s runtime. Wan knows how to distinguish the movie in just the right places, ensuring that the scares are well-earned and leave a lasting impact.
REPORT CARD
TLDR
The Conjuring is confirmation of Wan’s talent in the horror genre and is proof that highly polished horror blockbusters are possible. The movie is technically precise and features gorgeous camera work that one can’t help but admire and get wrapped up in. Though the story isn’t Wan’s most memorable, it manages to serve as a more than serviceable vehicle for lulling and scaring the audience; in other words, it’s a great time.
Rating
8.8/10
Grade
A
Go to Page 2for the spoiler discussion and more in-depth analysis. Go to Page 3to view this review’s progress report .
A lightbulb appears.The camera flips around the lightbulb.The camera tracks down to a young boy sleeping. A spirit shows up against the wall. An Old Woman smiling menacingly holds a red candle with a burning light as darkness surrounds her. Insidious’s red title car drops. The intro sequence shows the house. The intro sequence shows the clock. A specter shows up in the frame. The camera pushes in on a clock. Renai (Rose Byrne) sleeps as the frame stays in black-and-white. Renai (Rose Byrne) slowly gets up as the color comes back in. The intro sequence sets in play the key motifs: the color red being associated with malevolence, the weight of time, the control of which direction the light is coming from. The opening swiftly moves through its series of images starting on a lightbulb, moving to a spirit holding a candle, and then showing location shots of where the hauntings the story will explore will take place. The transition from black-to-white back to color lets us know that the Lambert’s rendezvous with horror is just beginning.
We open on a large lightbulb before the camera flips itself around 180° – the world we’re entering is not one that plays by our expectations. The camera tracks revealing a young boy sleeping before moving right to traverse the rest of the house. Discordant strings rise in the background as a shadowy figure shows up on a wall – a confirmation that we’ve entered a whole new world. Finally, the moves past the figure to reveal a Woman in Black, smiling and standing still in the center of the frame; in her hand, she holds a red candle with a bright flame – the only light in a screen full of darkness.
The screech of the strings reaches its apex as the bright hellish red title card comes onto the screen. Every other image after in the title sequence features a black-and-white image of a location and red font that slowly fades away as an ethereal gray wisp spelling the same words comes out of the initial word, almost like the spirit of the words taking leave. Many locations and objects show up multiple times, priming the viewer for their future appearance’s. Some of the frames reveal ghostly figures hiding in the shadows while others showcase spectral happenings like chairs moving by themselves. This seemingly innocuous presentation is anything but and primes the audience for spectral encounters to come by sowing the seeds with an assortment of images whose meanings are yet to be shown.
Eventually the montage ends and the camera pushes in slowly on a clock surrounded by shadows before the screen turns completely black. A woman, Renai Lambert (Rose Byrne), happens to be sleeping. As she wakes up, the color in frame gradually returns. Sleep is over and the time for waking is here.
Renai (Rose Byrne) stands with a clock behind her. Rose puts up her books, one of which is titled: “Self Healing Through Music”. Renai (Rose Byrne) and Dalton (Ty Simpkins) talk next to a red lamp about the lack of Josh’s childhood pictures. Renai (Rose Byrne) tries to deal with all the kids in the morning. Rose’s books are on the floor. The camera tracks from left to right on the house. Renai (Rose Byrne) plays the piano as the baby monitor sits above her. Renai (Rose Byrne) reaches up to turn on the light. The furnace on the floor turns on in response. Dalton (Ty Simpkins) wears his red superhero cape as he tries to turn on the light. Renai (Rose Byrne) and Josh (Patrick Wilson) put Dalton (Ty Simpkins) to bed. A red lamp is next to the bed. Renai (Rose Byrne) and Josh (Patrick Wilson) talk about their hopes for their future. The clock starts ticking in hypnotic fashion. Kali sleeps in her room which is illuminated by a red lamp. The camera pushes in on Dalton (Ty Simpkins) as he sleeps. The camera pushes forward on the dark pane. Josh (Patrick Wilson) is unable to wake Dalton (Ty Simpkins) up. The camera tracks from right to left on the house. Every motif set-up in the introduction is expanded on here, leading up to the incident supernatural incident with Dalton. Renai tries and maintains some normalcy and then something unexpected happens. Books she puts up fall down. Music she plays gets interrupted. The ladder she uses to put on the light literally breaks. After a few warnings, the hypnotic ticking of the clock marks the “true” start of the Lambert’s nightmare and hints to the audience that the house contains within it some alternative agency.
Renai goes down the stairs. Behind her is the clock that’s been featured multiple times already – a harbinger of doom. She takes out some books from the moving boxes scattered around the cluttered study and puts them up. The title of the book in front reads: “Self-Healing Through Music.”
After putting the books up, Renai has to deal with her 3 children: Dalton (Ty Simpkins), Foster (Andrew Astor), and Kali, the infant in the group. She gets their affairs in order during a hectic kitchen scene where her husband, Josh Lambert (Patrick Wilson), offers very little help. However, upon leaving the room she sees her books have now been scattered on the floor – a sign of things to come. Frustrated, she confronts her family who claims they had nothing to do with it. Unable to get any answers, she asks Josh to help with the kids and school – a request he denies to be apparently being busy. Her exasperation grows and the scene concludes with an establishing shot of the house, tracking from left to right.
Afterwards, the camera tracks onto Renai playing the piano. The books have now gained an additional purpose besides source of first supernatural sign: they are Renai’s work tools. She’s a musician trying to compose. Immediately it’s clear: this moment of musical creation is the overworked matriarch’s reprieve from her daily duties. Unfortunately, the specters seem to understand this as well and refuse to let her have her time. The baby monitor which has been creeping on the frame in the corner takes center place as the cries of the child interrupt the music and force Renai to come upstairs.
Upon ensuring Kali’s safety, Renai sees a door that draws her forward. She opens it and goes up to the attic of the house where she sees both a ladder and a lightbulb. A lightbulb starts the film and it appears here once again, enticing Renai to turn it on. She climbs the ladder and tries to grab the switch; upon doing so, the rung she’s standing on breaks. Immediately, a bright red-hot fire starts on its own from a furnace near the bottom of the floor. Just like the opening, the presence of a bulb is followed by the presence of an ominous red fire surrounded by blackness. It’s no coincidence that the bulb is above and the furnace is below; the use of red is evocative of hell and the flames associated with the damned location. Coming up here was a mistake – now the fire has started.
Nighttime comes and with it comes the start of the Lambert family problems. Dalton goes upstairs to the same room while wearing a red superhero cape. As any hero would do, he tries to bring the light; just like his mom, he gets up on the ladder to reach the switch, but unfortunately for him, the broken step in the ladder gives way underneath him and he crashes, falling unconscious momentarily. His parents realize he’s missing and run up to him to find him conscious but in pain. They get him all fixed up and put him into his bed before themselves retiring for the night. The couple finally unwinds as Renai talks about her music and her hopes for the future. The two laugh and call it a night.
Then the ticking of the clock starts; a momentum builds as the hypnotic rhythm cascades through the house. We see a series of images as the clock’s pulse continues: a leaking faucet, Foster asleep in his bed, Kali asleep in her crib with an ominous red light illuminating the room, Renai and Josh soundly asleep. Finally, we cut to Dalton and the hypnotic lull of the ticking clock stops. The camera pushes in slowly towards him and the darkness surrounding him. All the while the sound intensifies transforming from a low buzzing to a violent set of discordant noises – a callback to the title card’s ominous arrival.
The next day comes and Josh comes in to Dalton’s room to wake the still sleeping child. He repeatedly asks Dalton to awaken but comes to realize his son is unresponsive. A quick hospital later confirms that the aspiring superhero is in a coma like state with no apparent medical explanation. The narrative jumps forward 3 months as the camera tracks on the house again this time from right to left – the situation for the Lambert’s has changed once again as they find themselves taking care of their still-comatose son while eerie and supernatural events continue to pile up in their everyday lives.
In 20 minutes, Insidious has established a family dynamic with nuances in the main members of the grouping and set in motion a series of visual motifs – the color red, lighting up dark spaces, the baby monitor, music, the “presence” of the house – that will build to patterns of terror all while never jumping the shark. Similar to Bryan Bertino’s The Strangers, the driving force propelling Insidious is based on the anxiety that the “modern” family is unable to secure itself against outside forces that threaten it; in this case, the parents are unable to protect their son.
As the opening shows, the couple has made the move to provide a new start for their family. Renai is overworked but hopeful for change, Josh is supportive of his wife and children but isn’t the most helpful partner at home, and Dalton is a young boy looking to be an purveying hero. In spite of their struggles, they hold on to the hopes for a better tomorrow. This is why their son’s condition and the family’s subsequent trials are so cruel and poignant: the journey delves into dark places where the failures and traumas of the family, left unresolved, will come to roost among their unsuspecting children.
These fears are allowed to roost because Director James Wan is more than content letting the feeling of unease build up slowly in service of letting the genuine moments of fear terrorize the audience in poignant fashion. By setting up patterns and building up the tension and letting the spectral occurrences linger in ambiguous contexts, forcing the audience to stew in their nescience, Wan gives his film that quality which all the best horrors have – the ability to get under the skin without one being aware of the same. Motifs become patterns which anticipate a future without giving it away, so Wan is able to employ them in tandem to keep building up just until the right moment. This is also why Wan can go against expected evaluation of some of these patterns; because their teloses are unknown, they can be repurposed to pull off unpredictable story moves. By the end of the film, all these moving parts become intimately linked with one another and act as puzzle pieces for the viewer to finally piece together to come to an understanding, an understanding whose ambiguous underpinnings allow Wan to pull a Silence of the Lambs style moment that truly has to be witnessed first-hand.
It’s funny because despite borrowing so much from Tobe Hooper’s Poltergeist, Insidious does much of what the former film did: offer a breath of fresh air on the “haunted house” story. Like Hooper, Wan pushes the boundaries on what hauntings can entail and do. In fact, I would argue that Insidious is a breath of fresh air for the genre and offers an overhaul on the “haunted house” story in much the same as Tobe Hooper’s Poltergeist did. Hooper’s film offers a positive interpretation of the supernatural alongside a negative one and demonstrates the way that specters operate and link up in parallel with one another. In this way it ties the nature of its families hauntings to social happenings in a larger sense, serving as a larger take on the American Dream and the powers of family. As evidenced above, Insidious does much of the same but focuses less on the social commentary of the hauntings than on the metaphysical breakdown of how those hauntings occur and interact with the world.
The film’s key contribution to the cannon is its exploration of “The Further”, the film’s term for the supernatural realm that houses specters. At one point, the Lambert’s ask a psychic, Elise (Lin Shaye), to help them with their son and her crew, method of investigation, and treatment procedure which involve “The Further”. These scenes and the ideas visually present in them are distinct and evocative all at once, giving Insidious a wholly unique aesthetic and set of rules for supernatural engagement. There are more ideas regarding the supernatural in here than in 5 other lesser movies put together. Despite using Poltergeist and its ideas as a base, Wan and screenwriter Leigh Whannell don’t remain complacent and push the boundaries on what hauntings can entail and do.
Alas, Insidious is unable to fully tap into the potential its framework allows and settles for oddities that feel like they would have benefited more from structure. Ambiguity is great, but tying that ambiguity to thematic purpose on top of setting up narrative surprises helps those moments play more effective. They gain an emotional resonance because they speak to something larger and end up being more memorable. While Insidious does a great job at navigating the contours of its family’s personal struggles, it lacks the depth to make those struggles touch on other issues, reducing the story’s reach. Given just how much leverage “The Further” gives Wan and Whannell, it feels a tad disappointing that they don’t probe into larger questions.
Yet, Insidious has to be applauded trying something new and doing it with such technical fluidity. There’s a propulsion to the way the narrative unfolds and the pressure constantly ratchets up. Recurrent motifs and discordant strings help make the journey towards the eventual scares all the more dreadful as Wan allows the anticipation to build to a fever pitch before giving the audience a chance for release. There’s no cheap throwaway moment here and even if not all the pieces line up the way they should at all times, the extended durations showcasing when they do work more than make up for any disgruntles.
REPORT CARD
TLDR
Insidious’s propulsive narrative, technically sumptuous filmmaking, and innovative takes on the “haunted house” story sets new benchmarks for what audiences should expect from “mainstream” horror films. Director James Wan effectively utilizes ambiguity in relation to genre trappings to prime the audience for spookier scenes which are further accentuated by the film’s distinctive mystical and metaphysical stylizations. Even now they give the film a distinctive texture and weight that helps Insidious stand against the crowd.
Rating
9.2/10
Grade
A
Go to Page 2for the spoiler discussion and more in-depth analysis. Go to Page 3 to view this review’s progress report .
Kotaro Daigo as Hodaka Morishima Nana Mori as Hina Amano Shun Oguri as Keisuke Suga
Release Date
2019
Language(s)
Japanese
Running Time
112 minutes
I’ve always liked Shinkai’s work (5 Centimeters per Second, The Garden of Words) but I’ve never fallen in love with anything in the same as I did with Your Name.Like tons of other people around the world, I couldn’t stop gushing over the 2016 runaway hit. As such, I came into this movie with high expectations. I know ,I know, bad idea. Thankfully, Lady Luck was looking out and I got more than what I expected. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about the way the movie ended or been able to stop humming the main theme, so suffice to say I think it’s pretty good.
If you haven’t seen trailers- don’t. I think most trailers for this movie spoil too much and the experience will feel more magical if you go in “blind”. The story follows Hodaka, a high-school boy, who runs away to Tokyo and runs into Hina, a girl with the magical power to change the weather. Such an ability would be an amazing in the ordinary, but in this world where huge downpours and flooding are commonplace, a ray of sunshine can mean the world. The movie explores homelessness, climate change, and humanity’s spiritual connection with the environment with almost seamless execution while telling a fun fantastical romance.
I really like the post-apocalyptic/slow apocalyptic feeling the movie has. Hope in spite of the crushing weight of everything is something that I can relate to, especially in relation to the climate crisis we’re in that shows little hope of being reversed. Eventually, when events like mass flooding become more commonplace ,humanity is going to be forced to adapt or be eliminated. Can there still be hope and optimism in a world where everything is slowly being subsumed ,doomed to eventually disappear? Is a world like that tragic or can life still be happy in spite of it all? The story does a good job introducing these beats and developing them in ways that are bittersweet.(Mostly) Nothing feels unearned or easy.
The movie is gorgeous when it wants to be (so most of the time). There are scenes from the 3rd act that I don’t think I’ll be forgetting any time soon. Backgrounds look life-like and the rain is mesmerizing. The sheer power of nature comes through each and every frame. There are a few moments of CGI that feel abrupt and really took me out of the movie. The movie is just so beautiful that any incongruous element feels even more off putting than it would be normally. If you liked the soundtrack from Your Name, you’ll be pleased with what RADWIMPS has cooked up for this story.
My problems with the movie lie with the execution of certain sub-plots. The issue is most of the plot lines in the movie are executed almost impeccably. The moments and relations are grounded even though they’re mystical at the same time. Unfortunately, one of the more important plot threads for the third act falls short of the above. It’s not given the same sense of realism and feels more gimmicky. It’s not that big of an issue because thematically the thread is great. I just wish it didn’t come at the cost of the meticulous sense of consequence that had been building up till that point.
REPORT CARD
TLDR
Weathering for You is a beautiful fantasy romance that delivers a thematically rich story with wonderful characters. There are only a few plot issues, but by the end of the movie you won’t be thinking about them. If you liked Your Name, check this out. If you’re looking for a meaningful tale about our relationship to the planet , I’d also recommend giving this a view.
Rating
9.3/10
Grade
A
Go to Page 2 for the spoiler discussion. Go to Page 3 to view this review’s progress report .
