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2010s, 2018, A+, Art House, Drama, Grade, Horror, Musical, mystery, psychological, Review, review-movie, Thriller, Year

Film Review: Climax – 2018

November 10, 2020 The Critic Leave a comment

Director(s)	Gaspar Noé
Principal Cast	Sofia Boutella as Selva Romain Guillermic as David Souheila Yacoub as Lou Kiddy Smile as Daddy Claude Gajan Maull as Emmanuelle Thea Carla Schøtt as Psyché
Release Date	2018
Language(s)	French, English
Running Time	96 minutes

A woman crawls in the snow leaving bloody markings wherever her body moves. The camera follows her ragged, desperate movement and swirls around her as her body imprints a set of bloody snow angels into the previously white and pure backdrop. The camera slowly pans down passing over a tree, a torrent of branches unfolding in a rhizomatic pattern – an mazelike structure with infinite openings and endings.

The camera moves from the first image to the next in a nice and steady pan down, highlighting that the bloody snow-angel making figure can be interpreted in a plethora of ways, as diverse as the rhizomatic branches of the tree.

Words pop up on the screen informing us the movie is dedicated to “makers who are no longer with us” before indicating that the movie is based on a real event that happened in France, during the winter of 1996. The text “existence is a fleeting illusion” pops up on the screen for a split second, its appearance as fleeting as the message it provides. Then the credits start to play. These first 3 minutes of Gaspar Noé’s climax tell the story of the entire movie while revealing absolutely nothing about what’s to come. A brief impression – violence, beauty, movement, text, beginning, ending, climax – that informs that audience that they are in fact watching a movie, not an illusion of reality.

The postmodern bent continues as the movie cuts to an old fashioned television set , one that you’d see back in ’96, surrounded by a collection of Noé’s favorite books and movies. Titles like Zulawski’s Possession and Argento’s Suspiria are present, letting you know the auteur’s influences and future direction. The screen shows the audition tapes of dancers who are trying out for a troupe. They’re questioned by two off screen presences, one of whom is Noé himself – a director who quite literally places himself in the movie, reminding us that the director’s voice is as part of the movie as anyone else.

Psyché (Thea Carla Schøtt) gives her interview on the TV screen surrounded by Noé’s favorite books and movies on both sides. Media within media – this is postmodern filmmaking that informs the audience that they’re watching a movie and the director is very much involved in it.

The dancers are asked a series of questions involving their relationship to dance, the meaning of what they do, what experiences they’ve had, what they look forward to, and so on. Each dancer only talks for a few moments, giving the audience a brief impression of them and their interests, as their answers reveal the importance of dance as a method of experiencing life and joy – a survival mechanism that lets the body transform into something else. They talk about drugs, sex, sexuality, and the way those elements permeate the dance scene turning the discussion and interview into one about dance as an assemblage – a mechanization of multiple moving parts interacting with the desire of the dancers. Like the tree shown in the introduction, dancing is a rhizome that’s infinitely malleable.

As if to demonstrate this thought the movie cuts from the interviews to a beautifully choregraphed dance sequence that showcases the talent of the dancers. Energetic music pulses through the background setting the stage for the wonderous number that’s about to commence. The camera glides and dips around from multiple different angles without ever cutting, reflecting the way bodies move in an constant ebb and flow among and within each other. Multiple bodies coalesce into a singular entity showcasing the transformative power of dance as a way to break down ones barriers. Finally the group breaks and the pseudo-protagonist of our movie, Selva, proclaims “God is with us”, indicating that the creativity and beauty of the dance piece is a form of spiritual praxis.

These two stills from the fantastic dance sequence show the body as an assemblage as each individual gives way and comes together to create a moving, writhing entity that feels entirely whole. The camera deftly navigates the dance troupe showcasing them from multiple angles to highlight this idea of difference in and out of sameness.

Now that the main piece is done, the dancers mingle about one another celebrating their achievement with a festive and joyous party. They drink sangria from the punch bowl and engage in celebration at their accomplishments. The camera follows members of the party (primarily Selva) as everyone interacts with one another. The movie takes the time to cut between different characters conversing with one another, giving the audience a chance to let their impressions of the characters from earlier fill out and grow. There’s an impromptu nature to the dialogue which gives it an earnest realness and helps serve as a contrast to the more extreme intrusions the movie has forced/will force upon us. After a while, the movie cuts to a long individual dance montage, where the dancers show themselves off as their peers crowd around them in a circle cheering whoever is dancing on. This will be the last reprieve before the terror of the movie sets in. At the end of the dance, the credits play again- another beginning, another ending, another climax.

The movie births a new scene that comprises the brunt of the run time and zooms in on a cup of sangria being taken from a pitcher. The focus on the drink is important, because unknown to the characters, the sangria is spiked with LSD and turns the peaceful and energetic party into a chaotic hellscape.

The sangria is a player in the process , helping each dancer lose their mask to reveal another self within. The camera showcases it’s a key agent in the depravity that unfolds.

Characters start to lose any and all inhibitions as they become increasingly prone to acting on emotion as opposed to any semblance of reason. They realize something is wrong and a group of them desperately try and figure out who spiked the sangria. The ensuing witch hunt is horrifying to watch, as characters are brutalized by mob style accusations and judgements. Meanwhile, other characters drift off in the background, some of them dancing as though the events occurring in other portions of the dance hall are of no importance to them while others wander aimlessly, struggling to keep an internal coherence.

All the while the neon colors bursting through every shot become threatening as opposed to comforting, highlighting the chaos of the setting. The dance music which previously felt so upbeat and energizing transforms into a pulsating terror, not because the songs or their tempo themselves change, but because the situation they’re playing in is so radically different. At one point, Sofia Boutella channels her inner Isabelle Adjani and performs her own rendition of the infamous Possession subway scene – one of the instances of Noé’s earlier winks to the audience coming to life in his own movie.

Selva (Sofia Boutella) channels Isabelle Adjani in this homage to Possession by Andrzej Żuławski. The chaotic way she throws her body around fits with the energy and mood of the movie once the sangria hits and also serves as a nice callback to the opening audition scene.

As her character struggles to find footing in the topsy-turvy environment, the camera suddenly turns upside down. The dancers who looked so majestic earlier turn into hellish figures, evoking images of gargoyles and other creatures of the night. A heaven turned into hell.

Bodies seem like demonic entities when filmed upside down and dancing, fully lost in a rhythm and energy that assaults the senses. The world is as upside down as everyone feels and the embrace of chaos transforms the dancers.

The story of Climax is the story of the Earth – a place of beauty and wonder that goes through bouts of chaos. The dancers represent the different facets of humanity – the good, the bad, the ugly, and the sublime. Their introductions at the beginning of the movies are their representations of themselves – a persona they inhabit and may genuinely believe is indicative of who they are. Dancing is their method of engagement, a way of living among and with each other. It can be beautiful and a sight to see or horrifying and something the eyes want to avert away from. The dancers’ deterioration is not so much a comment on drugs as it is on the hidden desires that lay buried beneath the masks we place. For some of us those desires are ugly, violent, and brutal. For others they’re beautiful, quiet, and loving. Noé ensures this message is clear by ensuring that some of the characters do not partake in the sangria. Their behavior matching those of their peers reflects that these transformations in personality are not substance based, but rather another side, a birth of a new self marked by the death of some other self. The movie even tells us this directly. Near the start of the movie the words “birth is a unique opportunity” pop on the screen. Near the end of the movie the words” death is an extraordinary experience” show up. Life and death- two sides of the same coin – an interplay everything and everybody constantly goes through because stability is fleeting.

The image on the right says “Birth is a unique opportunity” , while the image on the left says “Death is an extraordinary experience” albeit upside down. Slides with expressions constantly interrupt the movie like this to offer some poetic aphorism before disappearing and letting the narrative run its course. Each is individually stylized to bring home the point of the message being presented.

The constant interruptions of sections of the movie by either the words or by the presence of new credits tells the audience that every act should be seen as the birth of a new story. Every story has a beginning, middle, and end with its own respective climax. As the movie demonstrates near the end of its runtime, the scene we see at the start of the movie is really the end- a story that starts with a climax and ends with a climax. For what is a climax? A culmination and development of a thread into something spectacular. But if everything lives and dies, if every moment is the birth of something new and the death of what came before, then every second is a climax of its own sort. This is the beauty of the movie – it demonstrates this idea in every way possible, from the structure of the story to the way scenes play out. It’s all a climax and as such it’s all open to the possibility of creativity and/or chaos.

Dance is the vehicle by which the movie explores this idea and Noé uses his impeccable technical skill to translate this idea into an experience. One does not walk away from Climax without going through some intense feelings, whether those feelings are of excitement at the beauty and creative explosion present or disgust and misery at the pain that’s on display. The focus on the movement of the dancers and the constant and energetic soundtrack makes the movie a feast for the eyes and ears. There’s always something visually interesting happening on screen, even if it terrifying. The neon color palette is breathtaking and drips through every single frame.

The color palette shifts from neon blues to greens to reds without ever feeling boring or played out. This is Noé paying homage to *Suspiria* and using its evocative color scheme to his advantage. Along with the way bodies move, the color keeps every shot visually arresting.

The incredibly long takes keeps the experience continuous, never giving the audience a moment to breathe or think. This is experiential filmmaking at its finest. I can totally understand people who dislike this movie and see it as a series of random events and dialogue that seemingly proceeds in a haphazard manner. Likewise, I can understand people who hate the movie because of how miserable it ends up feeling. It goes to some dark and disturbing places. But to me, that’s life. It’s a random scattered set of experiences with some semblance of order that is then constantly interpreted by us as we move along its path. There’s good and bad and everything in between. This is a movie that captures that essence and makes everything from the structure of the movie to the narrative proper reflect that feeling.

None of the movie would be possible without the cult of personalities presented by the actors, most of whom have never acted before this. Obviously Boutella is excellent and serves as a kind of character anchor the audience follows to help keep them from getting too lost in the chaotic world Noé creates. Anyone who can do Adjani’s chaotic acting from Possession justice deserves kudos and Boutella nails it. But she’s an actor. It’s no surprise that she can act well. What is surprising is a large majority of the primarily dancer cast is able to keep up with her energy and ability to flip a switch the moment shit hits the fan. The cast is huge, but every single member of it exudes their own unique set of traits that makes them all interesting to follow in their own right. Maull nails a constant anxiety and fear that makes her character seem jumpy and unconfident. Schøtt brings an apathy and an off-kilter vibe that makes Psyché feel like a force of nature more than an actual person. Smile brings a sense of comfort and authority to his aptly named character, Daddy. I could go on and on, but the point is every actor brings something new to the mix giving Climax a surprising amount of depth. In fact, every time I watch the movie I focus on another one of the characters and follow whatever they’re doing when the movie pans to them. Are they embracing creativity or chaos ? How are they acting compared to their previous interview and/or conversations from the earlier acts of the movie? Because of how much time is spent letting the actors breathe life into their characters, you can come away from movie having gotten a plethora of different “narratives”, showcasing the themes mentioned above.

The genius of Climax is despite being unabashedly artistic, experimental, in your face, and provocative it still manages to have time to answer the mystery of who spiked the sangria – saving the reveal for the very last moment of the movie. Based on all previous information, the reveal is poetic and gives the movie a neo-giallo kind of feeling behind all the music and dance. There’s a “masked” killer (the mask being the persona the killer use) whose plans end up causing tremendous amounts of violence, characters desperately try to figure out who the character is with no real success, and the movie ends on the killer’s reveal without ever giving away their motivations, leaving that interpretation up the audience. Having a narrative that ends with an actual answer on top of doing everything else in between is testament to Noé’s strength as an auteur. He doesn’t forget to deal with the main plot despite seemingly not being all at that interested in it.

Now while I think of Climax as an audio-visual poem that uses its dancers as different stanzas in a tale about life, I don’t think the movie is for everyone. I do think those who dislike Noé’s earlier works might find something interesting in this. However, I don’t think those who like a conventional narrative will enjoy this. There is a story. There is a buildup. There is a conclusion. But the movie is more focused on feeling like an experience than giving you a coherent tale. It’s very much inspired by the French New Wave (the movie even tells the audience in one of its text/phrase cutaways that it’s a French film and it’s proud of it) and doesn’t hesitate to let the audience know that this is a movie. It intentionally wants to get a rise out of you. Noé is a provocateur and wants you to feel uneasy and miserable. A lot of people call this movie an exercise in style as opposed to substance and while I disagree as evidenced by my adoration above, I can understand that point of view if you’re coming into it expecting a well-structured story with a clear plot. If you’re someone who enjoys art house proclivities and want an experience that ferociously comes at your sense this is the movie for you. If not, go watch something else. The world is open to infinite possibilities. Go and embrace whatever suits your fancy.

REPORT CARD

TLDR	Climax is an audio-visual experience that demonstrates that style can absolutely be substance. It’s a cinematic poem that explores the multiplicity of life in both its creative splendor and its ability to fall into depravity. The narrative eschews tradition in favor of embracing its themes in every way possible from slides of words that interrupt the action to constantly playing a different version of the credits at interesting points in the movie. All of this is done in service of demonstrating that life is a constant process of birth and death- an infinite series of climaxes where anything can happen. The dance sequences are mesmerizing and the music is hypnotic. The depravity is heartbreaking and revolting without ever losing its sense of beauty. Shots are draped in neon colors and constant movement which makes every moment visually arresting. The story of a dance troupe falling into disarray after drinking spiked sangria is only a small portion of the movie despite “being” the main narrative. To get the full experience, you have to be willing to take a leap of faith into Noé’s rhizomatic world.
Rating	10/10
Grade	A+

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2010s, 2017, A, Fantasy, Grade, Horror, Review, review-movie, Thriller, Year

Review: The Ritual

November 9, 2020 The Critic Leave a comment

Director(s)	David Bruckner
Principal Cast	Rafe Spall as Luke Arsher Ali as Phil Robert James-Collier as Hutch Sam Troughton as Dom Paul Reid as Robert
Release Date	2017
Language(s)	English
Running Time	94 minutes

A group of 5 friends – Luke, Phil, Hutch, Dom, and Robert- meet in a bar to plan their next vacation with one another. Like any group of mates from college they’ve obviously outgrown their younger tendencies and struggle to determine a good location. As each of them suggests a possible spot another rejects it for some contrived reason. The group session ends with no decision and Luke, the loner of the group who seems most caught up in his past life, decides he wants to buy another bottle of booze from a convenience store. His mates, who have responsibilities now, don’t particularly want to come with him, but eventually Robert acquiesces and joins along. Unfortunately, the store they visit is being robbed by some violent cretins. Luke, with his bottle in hand, runs and hides. Robert isn’t as lucky and ends up losing his life as he’s brutally sliced apart while Luke watches in the background, petrified and unable to move. The movie cuts to Luke waking up in Sweden as his friends and him have decided to go on a hiking trip – Robert’s suggestion from that night so many months ago – to honor their late friend’s legacy.

From the outset, Luke is positioned apart from his 3 other friends. It doesn’t need to be said, but the elephant in the room is clear – he survived and did nothing as Robert died inside. The movie makes this clear in its composition, keeping Luke at an arms length from his mates, reminding the audience there’s a wound there that hasn’t been addressed.

As the group wakes to give their respects to Robert, Luke (Rafe Spall) is the first one up and he positions himself immediately away from the rest of his mates. The first image is a recurrent composition the movie employs to showcase just how fractured the group is due to the tensions between him and the other members. The second image highlights the way the rest of Luke’s friends position themselves in relation to him. The first one out of the tent is Hutch (Robert James-Collier), followed by Phil (Arsher Ali), finally followed by Dom (Sam Troughton). This sequencing of the friends is also something the movie frequently employs to make Luke’s subsequent emotional journey more coherent, while giving the audience a good view of the group’s dynamic.

After making a toast to Robert, the four friends track back on the mountainous path that seems to engulf them. The camera showcases just how small they really are in this wide area, yet to be tamed by “modern” civilization. As they continue, Dom trips and hurts his leg. Given that he’s the member of the group who most misses Robert and positions himself furthest from Luke at all times, this external injury seems to match the internal struggle he faces in getting over the issue and forgiving his friend. Needless to say, his injury derails the groups plans and they decide to cut through an ominous, foreboding forest to get back to their lodge faster. As Luke and Hutch canvas the area, the camera demonstrates just how distant the lodge looks as it seems to be overwhelmed by the forest surrounding it from all angles – civilization covered by the mysterious and natural – a sign of things to come.

The group makes their way through the forest. An eerie string based composition starts to play, starting off low and slowly becoming more threatening. It cuts out and we can hear the twigs snap in an utter silence. The wind blows, a gust against the ears. This soundscape is the forest speaking – a natural language that’s incomprehensible to human ears in easy to define terms, but that generates an emotional sensation – that of fear. The group happens upon a gutted animal, ceremoniously hung from the trees. A hunter perhaps. But as the characters ask, what kind of hunter would be able to enact such a feat, let alone go ahead with it. Desperate to get the macabre imagery out of their heads, they continue until the night falls. A heavy rain covers the group, incentivizing them to stay the night in an abandoned cabin straight out of the Evil Dead. They explore the relic from the past and find a host of disturbing religious paraphernalia. Combined with the gutted animal, the images provide too much for the group who have no choice but to ignore and get to sleep.

Luke awakes to a bright lit pouring into the cabin. He tries to wake his friends but they refuse to wake up. He goes outside and suddenly he’s transported back to the convenience store where his friend passed. He’s forced to relive the trauma – to experience his mistake and sense of shame once again before waking and realizing it was just a dream. He runs back to the cabin and realizes like him, every one of his friends has experienced some kind of night time terror – a dance with the dark vestiges of their minds, the forest, or perhaps both. The group falls into an emotional disarray as the members are desperate to get over the instance and leave the menacing forest. Unfortunately for them, it’s not going to be so easy.

This is The Ritual, a meditation on friendship, grief, dissolution, and masculinity. From the pub scene at the beginning to the trek the group makes into the forest, it’s clear that the friend group is at a crossroads of sorts. While most of the members have seemingly grown up and become “adults” so to say, Luke is trapped in his “glory days”. His friends have partners and kids. Meanwhile he has his booze. The death of Robert is the camel that breaks the back of the friendship – forcing the party to confront one another over issues that have been ignored in lieu of maintaining a camaraderie. While civilization gave them avenues to forget and taper over the issue, the raw affective intensity of the forest, free from the bounds of society, give them a chance to get those emotions out in play. Their frustrations at being lost in the forest bleed into their original frustrations – Luke’s inability to save their friend.

As a man, it’s expected that Luke should’ve mustered some courage and fight for his friend. His friends might not outright say it, but they all believe it to some effect. This is constantly reflected in the blocking of the characters in position to Luke. When he’s not apart from the others, he’s always placed closest to Hutch, then Phil, ending with Dom – a reflection of the different levels of grief, acceptance, and culpability his friends feel about him and Rob’s death. The group has ignored the emotional wounds between them in an attempt to pretend everything is okay – another sign of a failed masculine overcoding that can’t reckon with the situation. Being bros somehow translates to not showing emotions, not accepting a place for weakness and vulnerability. This point is repeated by the shared dream sequence. Despite each member of the group having gone through something harrowing at night, experiencing psychologically painful visions, they refuse to talk about. Hutch even exclaims he doesn’t want to psychoanalyze because there are real issues at stake – as though the emotional damage the group feels is not real. The group of “friends” would rather beat the piss out of each other than genuinely talk to each other, a violent reaction as opposed to a vulnerable discussion. It’s a value statement that reflects the way emotional sensibilities are pushed aside by civility. It’s no coincidence that the group is forced to deal with their emotions once they’re outside of the bounds of the same.

The setting of the story constantly reflects this internal struggle, making it something we see and hear. As I’ve mentioned the score (which sounds similar in feeling to that of The Witch) and the crisp sound mixing give the forest a genuine sense of agency. Every branch being crushed, every gust of wind that feels like a spectral entity speaking, every random sound of movement gives the forest a voice. The music which starts off low becomes more boisterous and ceremonial sounding, ritualistic as the movie title suggests. It’s an unnerving soundscape that works at ratcheting up the tension while giving the movie’s emotional undercurrent a palpable measure. This is exemplified the most in the ending song of choice, which I won’t spoil, but will say succinctly ties the movie up beautifully. At a visual level, the camera constantly positions the group in the midst of long and looming trees, with ominous branches moving out like sets of hands literally threatening to come out and grab them at any time. There are multiple shots of just the scraggly and wicked looking branches, which look like they could poke an eye out if not careful. It’s an effective reminder of the way the emotional turmoil the group is facing risks swallowing them entirely, the weight of their emotions actively covering up and encroaching the spaces the characters place themselves in.

The forest threatens to overwhelm the group and represents their emotionally fragmented and tumultuous state. The first image in the first row showcases just how small they are in the grander scheme of the forest (the use of the tree to guide the audience’s eye is great). The second image in the first row one of the many shots of the ominous looking branches that seem like hands ready to grab the group. They radiate an malicious intent. The image in the second row is a demonstration of the beautiful way the trees are used to block the characters apart from one another. It represents the way their inability to deal with their issues literally separates them from one another.

Effective mood and atmosphere – this is how the movie manages to completely enrapture the audience in the terror its characters face. The fact that the story starts with Robert’s violent death sets the tone for everything that’s to come – it sets an expectation that this is a story motivated by loss, whether that be loss of a friendship, loss of identity, or loss of loved ones. The move to the forest and the effective utilization of familiar horror tropes -creepy cabin in the woods, runic carvings on trees, unnerving dream sequences, and undecipherable movement throughout the forest- helps the audience get familiar with the story with little effort. Instead of getting lost on the minutia , we’re razor focused on the story of the characters. That’s not to say that these tropes are used just as an easy tool to easy the storytelling – they’re all motivated by the storytelling and a compelling art direction that fully rears its head in the third act.

At the heart of the story is the group of friends themselves. The actors portraying each of these characters does a bang up job at selling the nature of their friendship. From the way the characters banter to the way they emote with one another, it’s clear that they’re a group of all friends who have a host of shared memories and a reluctance to engage in any serious emotional dialogue. As someone who’s had/has many of the same friend groups, I could literally place my own friends in the characters places. They’re relatable, down to Earth, and genuinely human. Because the movie spends so much time getting the audience focused on them as opposed to random story details, we end up caring when things start happening to them as opposed to questioning why those things are happening. Not one of the characters feels one note (even if some feel less developed than others). In fact, they’re so realistic that even their joking banter in the face of some truly heinous phenomena feels natural and gives the movie a levity that doesn’t upend the eerie tension that builds through the runtime at a steady pace. This is effective horror film-making.

The issues with the movie have more do with the movie’s focus on Luke as the primary vehicle the audience gets to experience trauma and overcoming it. As I mentioned, each of the characters has their own take on Robert’s death and Luke’s decision-making during that event, but we only ever really get to hear one persons opinion and part of another. For a movie that’s about breaking open a civilized masculinity in favor of emotional openness, it would have been nice to see the nuance in perspective from the group to get a fuller and more rounded picture. Likewise, this is reflected in the fact that the only dream sequences we see are Luke’s. The other characters hint at what they saw, but getting to see their visions and their relation to them would open up the possibility for a genuine deconstruction of the way over-masculinity manifests. The movie ends up using every character outside of Luke to help him transition from emotionally stunted to open, denying them a unique chance to grow and making them more like benchmarks for the protagonist to gauge character progression. Sure, the run time of the movie might have been another 10-15 minutes if they all got their unique arcs/development, but in the context of what the movie was trying to achieve I think that would’ve been fine. There are definitely moments in the movie , especially in the 3rd act, which could have been trimmed out to make time for these moments.

Speaking of the 3rd act, while I genuinely enjoyed the way it reveals the “secrets” of the forest and the mystery surrounding the groups journey, it comes off a bit jarring compared to the intensity of the previous two acts. The attempts at giving explanations to the mystery feel like they either should have been expanded on or given in a more cryptic fashion to match with the exceptional and breathtaking scenes that end up occurring.

That being said, these complaints should not detract from the bigger picture. The Ritual is a stunning movie that has an important message about overcoming trauma – both at an individual and social level. The way the cinematography and audio work externalize the characters internal struggles is masterful and keeps the stories themes front and center even if we’re not aware that’s what’s happening. Acting is great all around and really helps sell some of the emotional gut punches the movie has waiting for us. Definitely a movie you want to see with a group of friends, especially if you can see your mates in the characters present.

REPORT CARD

TLDR	The Ritual is an ambitious piece of horror filmmaking that attempts to analyze and breakdown masculinity, friendship, trauma and their relations to one another in a palatable and non-preachy way. The story starts with a brutal death and carries the emotional weight of that event through the run-time, forcing the characters and the audience to engage in a dialogue about forgiving oneself and finding the strength to connect to our rawer, more emotional sides. The technical aspects of the movie are stunning from the unnerving score to the masterful art design. If you’re looking for a creepy movie to watch with the boys, look no further.
Rating	9.1/10
Grade	A

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2010s, 2016, F, Grade, Horror, Review, review-movie, supernatural, Year

Review: Sadako vs. Kayako

November 8, 2020 The Critic Leave a comment

Director(s)	Kōji Shiraishi
Principal Cast	Mizuki Yamamoto as Yūri Tina Tamashiro as Suzuka Aimi Satsukawa as Natsumi Masahiro Komoto as Professor Morishige Masanobu Andō as Keizō Mai Kikuchi as Tamao Runa Endo as Kayako Saeki Elly Nanami as Sadako Yamamura Rintaro Shibamoto as Toshio Saeki
Release Date	2016
Language(s)	Japanese
Running Time	98 minutes

Every horror fan has their gateway horror movie(s) that manages to capture their interests and serve as an introduction to the frightening, yet intoxicating allure the genre at large offers. For me, that movie is Gore Verbinski’s The Ring. I can still remember watching it for the first time so many years ago, swearing I’d never go near a television again. However, that fear turned into an obsession with the sense of vitality I felt while watching something so frightening. The adrenaline rush and sense of immersion I had felt ,while watching the movie with baited breath through the gaps between my fingers, led me down the J-Horror rabbit hole, as I quickly discovered my precious horror movie was actually a remake of a Japanese movie by the same name. After watching the original, I quickly got sucked into the world of Japanese horror. I quickly saw as much as I could – Pulse, One Missed Call, Audition, Ju-On, Cure, and so on- in a a frenzy. At some point my summer vacation was literally watching one of these movie, pacing in fear, sleeping with one eye open until said fear had gone away, and moving onto the next one on the list. Eventually, I became more acclimated to the horror genre in general, but J-Horror will always have a special place in my heart.

Given that, it should be no surprise that I absolutely freaked out when I saw the first trailer for this movie back in 2015. Like many other fans, I thought its release on April 1st meant it was an elaborate April Fool’s joke, but imagine my surprise when I heard the announcement early 2016 that the meme movie was in fact going to actually come out. My brain couldn’t process it. A Ring movie crossing over with Ju-On? Both movies (and their American remakes, especially in the case of the former) scared the piss out of me growing up, so I eagerly awaited this monster mashup- my Freddy vs. Jason if you will. When I saw it was being directed by Kōji Shiraishi, the man behind Noroi: The Curse (one of my favorite found footage movies ever), that excitement grew to unreasonable levels. What would he do to get Kayako and Sadako to fight one another? How would the fight even go? What kind of amazing battle sequences would us, the fans, get to witness in action?

As soon as I could find a way to watch the movie online I jumped at the chance. With baited breath, I hit play and waited for the supernatural battle of the century to commence. Unfortunately, what I got was more of a Ring reimaging sprinkled with a little bit of Ju-on every now and then to remind the audience that this was in fact a mashup movie. The final battle happens at almost the end of the movie, and barely lasts more than a few minutes. All in all, I was left disappointed. This wasn’t what even close to what I wanted. The excitement, the adrenaline, the anticipation – everything left me like air from a deflated balloon.

Close to a year later, I decided to watch the movie again on a random whim. I was looking for something to keep on in the background, while I focused on some menial task and figured since I knew what happened anyways I couldn’t be disappointed again. Much to my surprise, I found myself enjoying it a lot more. I chalked it up to a lack of expectations, but have since realized – no – I actually do enjoy portions of the movie. Is it still a disappointment? Yes, more so, because its in my subsequent rewatches that I’ve come to realize just how many neat elements the movie has that it does absolutely nothing with. It’s a disappointment, not because it’s bad, but because of how miserably it squanders the potential it had.

The movie opens up on a quick kill from Sadako before cutting to a University class being taught by Professor Morishige. His lecture topic is Japanese urban legends. As you would expect he brings up the cursed video tape along with the accompanying tale of Sadako and the concept of Onryō‘s (the vengeful spirit Kayako is) in quick succession with some other monsters like the Kuchisake-onna (split faced women). Interestingly enough, his story of the cursed tape involves being killed after 2 days as opposed to 7. He tells the students that such tales are just memes (you read that right) that have spread due to lack of information and makes the astute observation that if the cursed video tape was actually real it’d have shown up online by now. He ends his lesson and the movie pivots to two students in his classroom, Yūri and Natsumi.

These two best friends leave the room for lunch at which point the latter asks the former to convert her parents VCR tape to a more convenient format. Cue the girls buying an old video cassette player with a free cursed tape inside. The movie cuts at this point to a third schoolgirl, Suzuka, who’s moving right next to the Saeki household (you know, where Toshio and Kayako lives). She feels herself being watched (natural, given the ghosts at the residence) before the movie cuts back to Yūri and Natsumi watching the tape with the latter getting cursed as the former looks down to answer a text. The paranoia starts hitting and the girls decide to go to Professor Morishige for advice. After he confirms the girls have the actual videotape, by virtue of watching it himself, he dances with elation. Turns out Morishige is a huge Sadako super-fan and wants nothing more than to meet her. He eagerly awaits a phone call from the spirit and agrees to help the girls out by getting them an exorcism.

Professor Morishige (Masahiro Komoto) aka President of the Sadako fan club eagerly awaits the call of death informing him of his impending doom as long as he can hear the spectral spirit he’s obsessed with. A great character that gets almost no use.

Alas, the exorcism doesn’t go as planned so the girls hire two psychics, Keizō and Tamao, to help them survive Sadako’s wrath. If you’ve noticed I haven’t mentioned the Ju-On sub-plot that much that’s because the movie also doesn’t feel the need to develop it outside of sprinkling in some random scares with the Kaeki’s every now and then (praise fodder kills) to remind us this is a crossover movie. That aside, the psychics are the best part of the movie outside of Morishige. Tamao is sarcastic and brutal as all hell which is made all the better by the fact that she’s played by kid. Imagine a pre-teen casually brushing off your stupidity and nonchalantly mentioning how screwed you are. It’s genuinely funny. Likewise, Keizō is a snarky badass, who uses his psychic abilities to fight spirits. Watching him in action is like watching a mime tangentially affecting the world with their motions – it’s honestly kind of cool. Unfortunately, their arrival coincides with the disappearance of Morishige who’s written off in an absurd but incredibly comedic way. We have to lose an interesting character to get two interesting characters, which is a tragedy when everyone else in the movie is astoundingly boring. Needless to say, the psychics come up with the masterplan to have Kayako and Sadako fight each other, hoping that the two curses will be strong enough to obliterate one another and save any potential victims. At some point Suzuka gets involved, but like I said it’s not that important.

So you have a ton of interesting elements – Japanese style exorcism, badass psychics, a teacher obsessed with meeting a ghost that will kill him upon contact, the changing of the urban myth behind the cursed video tape, and two of the most iconic J-Horror characters of all time- that all get so bogged down in the minutia of boring, generic, and seemingly irrelevant story threads that overwhelm the run-time of the movie. On top of that, while I think the Ring storyline is at least given an okay run through in setting up the power level for the ultimate battle, the Ju-On storyline feels like an afterthought. Even in the moments dedicated to it, Toshio gets most of the screen-time while Kayako gets a few scraps of attention.

If the story was inverted – that is the interesting elements were the primary story and the girls were the background elements they should have been – this movie would have kicked serious ass. Just imagine how awesome a supernatural noir would be. Two psychic detectives-for-hire fighting off spirits with a variety of abilities who then get work from a client hell bent on meeting Sadako and living. Tie that in with the discussion about how urban legends morph and change (the curse going from 7 days to 2 days) to reference how beliefs and ideas can change the metaphysical makeup of spirits to keep them relevant in the status quo (close to something like Noragami ) and boom – both Kayako and Sadako can be different but related to their previous movie incarnations giving the director tons of leeway to explore them and morph them in a way that the audience hasn’t seen. That movie would be the bees knees.

From left to right: Keizō (Masanobu Andō), Tamao (Mai Kikuchi), and Yūri (Mizuki Yamamoto). The two psychics are informing Yūri of their plan, but this still could have come from an awesome psychic noir movie. Another misuse of a great pair of characters.

Instead, the story we do get feels like an uninspired mashup that’s 65% Ring , 20% interesting J-horror stuff like psychics, and 15% Ju-On. As a Ring/The Ring mega fan, I could have forgiven this if at least the storyline explained the 2 day versus 7 day update on the curse in an interesting way to give the story something distinct about it, but the change is literally glossed over like an afterthought. It actually feels like they changed the number of days before demise so that the movie would move faster. I also could have gotten into the movie if the final fight was a bigger portion of the run time and actively gave both Kayako and Sadako chances to beat the undead matter out of one another. The worst part about the fight is it actually starts off with gusto and gets you amped for what’s going to come next, before quickly culminating in a CGI fiesta that’s wrapped up in a few minutes. Either go the route of Freddy vs. Jason and embrace a schlock of a story to give us amazing fights or try and give us a good story that does justice to the narrative strengths of both franchises. This movie does neither. It just teases us with what could’ve been.

It sounds like I’ve really ragged on the movie a lot, which I have. However I want to stress that the movie is decent at a technical level. It’s not like the movie is shot poorly (outside of a few moments of awful CGI) or has any bad performances (which are decent by and large). It’s just that it doesn’t make use of any of these elements effectively. In general, Shiraishi knows how to build up tension in a scene and doesn’t rely on jump scares. He’s good at edging the audience out, priming them for something genuinely scary. The issue is none of these build-ups are met with anything that does justice to what came before. For example, the movie constantly teases the nature of Sadako’s new cursed tape. The first two times it’s watched by characters, all the audience can see is reactions as opposed to the tape itself. When we finally get to see it on it’s third viewing, we’re fully ready and amped for the reveal. What could be on it that’s so terrifying? Unfortunately, like most of the reveals in the movie, the revelation of the footage on the tape is uninspired and ultimately disappointing. It genuinely feels like a case of a movie fighting itself, with small sections of it desperate to come to the forefront to elevate the material being beaten back by the slogging and more derivative sections. That being said, the actual ending of the movie is actually kind of great from a fanservice point of view – I mean the literal last moments of the movie when nothing more of substance can happen, which is why it’s not a huge factor in my review. I can’t say it made up for the disappointments that came before, but it gives me hope that a good crossover might be possible.

That brings me to the most important question. Would I recommend the movie? Maybe. It depends on the person. General horror fan? No. Fan of Ju-On? No. Fan of Ring? Maybe. J-Horror Fanatic? Yes, with the caveat to go in with absolutely no expectations. I think if you’re into the ambiance of J-Horror movies and go in knowing there’s not going to be a huge fight, you’ll find the experience acceptable. My only hope is one day, someone can genuinely go and revitalize these titans of the genre. If this movie is proof of anything, it’s that there are still more than enough interesting ideas to play around with to give Sadako and Kayako a new life. We can only hope that it happens.

REPORT CARD

TLDR	Sadako vs Kayako should’ve been the J-Horror equivalent of Freddy vs. Jason but manages to fall short in almost every way possible. The story is contrived and feels more like a Ring remake than a combination of the Ring and Ju-On. The interesting bits the story does introduce are never developed into something more substantive. The climactic battle is only a few minutes long and barely manages to let the titular spirits shine through while fighting. Would I recommend this movie to most people? No. However, I do think J-Horror super fans can enjoy the movie if they temper their expectations.
Rating	4.8/10
Grade	F

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2010s, 2014, A, Grade, Horror, mystery, Review, review-movie, supernatural, Thriller, Year

Review: The Autopsy of Jane Doe

November 7, 2020 The Critic Leave a comment

Director(s)	André Øvredal
Principal Cast	Emile Hirsch as Austin Brian Cox as Tommy Olwen Kelly as Jane Doe Ophelia Lovibond as Emma Michael McElhatton as Sheriff Burke
Release Date	2014
Language(s)	English
Running Time	86 minutes

The title sequence opens up on words slowly being revealed under layers of dirt. As each member of the movie is revealed, their name and role is blown away by the wind until finally the title of the movie shows for a brief few seconds.

The title card is slowly unearthed from the dirt like a secret hidden away and waiting to be uncovered. An signal of things to come.

The camera cuts to an outside view of a house- fuzzy and upside down. As the shot slowly reorients itself to look normal the movie cuts to outside of the house, changing from a point of view shot to an establishing shot. This is a hint of things to come- an agency that has just been unearthed that remains in the background – disrupting the objectivity of what is to occur.

Sherrif Burke enters the house – the scene of a crime that he and his crew can’t seem to figure out. As the camera slowly moves throughout the abode, revealing the badly damaged and bloodied corpses all around, it eventually ends up in the basement where Burke discovers a clean and unsullied female corpse, preserved under a layer of dirt. Compared to the mutilated bodies aboveground, this Jane Doe has absolutely no sign of external injury. Baffled by the strange discovery, Burke moves the body town to the Tilden funeral home, eager to get a cause of death by the morning.

The bodies found upstairs are bloodied and bruised, as though violently beaten and mangled. Meanwhile, Jane Doe’s body on left image is preserved in almost pristine condition, with the dirt encasing her like a protective shield. The way her body is covered in dirt ties in directly to the way the title card appears from underneath the ground.

The movie cuts to the funeral home which is run by Tommy, an older and emotionally jaded man, and his younger and more optimistic son, Austin. Before showcasing the father-son duo at work, the camera establishes the setting for the audience, weaving through the mazelike hallway. This home for the dead zigs and zags with very little room to maneuver around. There’s only one way up and out of the underground dwelling – an elevator that whirs with power as it moves. The camera constantly showcases a curved mirror on the corner of one of the hallways, which gives a reflection that seems to only give impressions of what it sees. Eventually the camera settles on Tommy and Austin performing an autopsy on a badly burned body, as the radio plays in the background giving their morbid work a moreupbeat soundtrack. The latter is goaded into giving his own assessment before being corrected by his father, who reminds him their job is not to figure out why a cadaver is there but instead to figure out how it got to the position its in. It’s clear there’s an disconnect between the two as Tommy injects a sympathy into his work for the deceased as opposed to his father who rationally approaches the work, determined to get to the bottom of each as. As he reminds his son afterwards, every body has a secret. Some are just better at hiding them than others. These words gain a haunting resonance as the movie continues, becoming the thematic thread that ties the relevant sub-plots together. It is just as they finish up with the corpse at their table, that Burke shows up at their location with Jane Doe.

As Austin is just about to leave for the night to go on a date with his partner, Emma, he feels a sense of guilt at leaving his father alone to deal with a fresh new corpse and postpones his rendezvous in order to help his dad out. As evidence by his playful pleading with Emma, this is commonplace behavior, as Austin feels the need to take care of his father after the loss of his mother. He ventures back down to the autopsy room and takes his place with Tommy, eager to finish the nights work and get to more pleasant activities. They begin the autopsy with gusto, intrigued by the unmarred body that is somehow dead. As they perform their procedural tests, the camera cuts to Jane Doe, imbuing with her with a strange sense of agency despite her appearance. During the procedure, the radio the Tildens have on continues to blare their upbeat and positive music.

However, the music quickly changes to “Open Up Your Heart (And Let the Sunshine In)” when Tommy gets to ready to perform invasive procedures on the body.

Almost as if to signal the presence of an unseen agent turning the radio signal, the camera zooms in to the speaker portion emphasizing the ominous nature of the otherwise cheery song which randomly seems to appear.

As the song continues, the movie once again cuts to Jane Doe, as though she has something to do with the random occurrence. The odd choice of song becomes especially eerie in contrast to the brutal precision by which her body is torn apart. The Tildens are baffled by a series of impossible discoveries- injuries on the inside of the body that would be impossible to inflict onto someone without some reflection on the outside only scratch at the surface of the rabbit hole they go down. The deeper they prod, the stranger circumstances at the funeral home seem to get. The radio constantly switches to either to “Open Up Your Heart (And Let the Sunshine In)” or a news report that indicates that there’s a massive amount of flooding happening, a strange juxtaposition between sunshine and dampening rainfall to match with the strange contrast between the pristine condition of Jane’s body versus her brutal internal injuries. The whole time, the camera lingers on Jane’s gaze, which penetrates the audience as if she’s watching and controlling the situation around her. If Tommy’s statement about secrets is correct, then what nefarious truth is being hidden by a body whose presence can force a radio to play a song about sunshine whenever her cadaver is further ripped apart.

Matching the strange occurrences happening within the autopsy room are the eerie sounds of bells and movements outside in the hallways. Early on Tommy reveals that in the past, bodies had bells tied around their ankles so that mistaken comatose people could ring and indicate they were alive as opposed to dead. As things ramp up, these noises become more and more prominent, prompting some intense investigation scenes which constantly amp up the tension. Images are reflected on the curved mirror, never clear enough for us or the character’s to get a good view of who or what is roaming through the halls. This interplay – Jane’s face staring at the camera, the radio switching from happy song to eerie news story, reflections in the mirror, creepy noises abound, and the autopsy proper- keeps the movie flowing at a steady pace all while keeping the audiences creeped out. There’s never a moment for us to breathe a sigh of relief. That’s what I call effective horror filmmaking.

This is a movie about assumptions and the way we play into into them willingly and/or unknowingly. These assumptions are based on information that’s available to us and the way it matches up with the presuppositions we have about the world around, which lead us to to radically different interpretations of the same event. At the level of the main story Tommy’s interpretations of Jane’s condition are based on his rationalistic and procedural interpretation of the way bodies react to physical stimuli. He’s obsessed with explaining how an unblemished body on the outside can host such disgusting injuries within. Meanwhile Austin’s interpretation is based on trying to place Jane within a context that explains why this even happened to her. As Tommy noted earlier, if everyone has secrets and those secrets are hidden, then how do these interpretations find a finality? They’re based on what an agent wants us to know about them which might radically differ from what we “should” know about them. This struggle to discover Jane’s truth bleeds over to the Tildens’ struggle to understand one another and their own shared trauma, tying the supernatural investigation to an emotional center we can relate to. The plot points build on and contrasts one another in a dialect of interpretation that really hits home the importance of not taking anything for granted.

If there’s an issue with the film’s story structure, it has more to do when certain emotional moments are revealed as opposed to the reveals themselves. There’s obviously a tension and emotional bond between the father-son duo that’s constantly hinted and teased at. There’s a reason Tommy is doting on his dad and a reason his dad is so focused on his work and unable to open up. Up to the second act, this secretive bond is slowly prodded open, revealing the heart of what’s going on. However, the movie ramps the pace of the reveal up unexpectedly and jarringly in the third act, as it comes directly after another unrelated emotionally jarring incident involving the two characters. Compared to the slow and effective pacing up to then, the simultaneous gut punch loses efficacy because there’s not enough time for the characters or us to process the importance of what’s being said. Substantively, the revelation is fantastic – it ties into the themes of the story and compliments the final reveals related to Jane Doe. The issue is it structurally feels haphazard which removes a lot of the heft it could have packed.

However, despite this slight misstep there is still an emotional resonance the movie manages to tap into due the acting power of its main duo. Brian Cox’s may portray a cold and unopen father for most of the movie, but he constantly makes it apparent he cares for Hirsch’s character through the way he smiles at his son’s growth in the autopsy craft or through his concern for his son’s health as things get dicer in the story. Watching him make the decisions he does in the third act tug at heartstrings and feel earned despite the rushed emotional reveal I talked about earlier. He shows a genuine care in his eyes that makes you realize in spite of his stoicism, he possesses a deep love for his last remaining family. Meanwhile, Hirsch perfectly encapsulates the role of a son who’s desperate to help his father, but unable to find a way how. He shows a stubbornness in his demeanor that makes sense given the way he’s “bossed” around on the job but never lets that collapse into a frustration. Their performances naturally compliment one another and their believable relationship is what gives the movie’s ending as much power as it has.

That being said, the star of the movie is Olwen Kelly, who manages to terrify the audience despite never moving an inch from the operating table she’s placed on. It would have been easy to go for a dummy. It is a movie about performing an autopsy on a dead body. However, Øvredal’s decision to go with a live actor is what makes the cuts to Kelly’s face so unnerving. The reason she feels alive – the reason a cadaver feels like it has a genuine agency in the events of the movie – is because the camera is on an actress and not some synthetic stand-in. Despite being naked, Øvredal’s camera never exploits the actor and constantly positions her in a way that makes her the center of the room. Even when her breasts are exposed on frame, they’re never the focal point. It’s always her gaze – a pair of cloudy eyes that are impossible to read but seemingly rip into the soul of the audience. There are no “sexy” shots. It’s all about respect, and as a result Kelly manages to give a lifeless, immobile character a sense of power and presence without ever moving a muscle. That’s good filmmaking and a testament to the importance of acting in the most subtle ways.

From left to right: Tommy (Brian Cox), Jane Doe (Olwen Kelly), and Austin (Emile Hirsch). Despite being in the nude, Kelly’s body is never sexualized and is treated with respect which in turns gives her character, Jane, a presence that feels equal to the Tildens who are performing the autopsy. Shots similar to this fill the movie with Kelly being made the focal point without the movie ever feeling exploitative. Even during an action which could be made sexual, like photographing, the camera shows a more neutral view. This is classy filmmaking that serves a purpose.

Does the movie nail every punch it throws? No. But when the journey is as unsettling and powerful as this one turns out to be, that’s a minor complaint. If you’re looking for a supernatural flick that’s willing to subvert your expectations in ways that are earned as opposed to cheap or are just looking for a movie that gets under your skin, look no further. The secrets hidden beneath the surface of The Autopsy of Jane Doe are worth digging into.

REPORT CARD

TLDR	The Autopsy of Jane Doe is a supernatural thriller that proves tight execution and meaningful camera work are all that’s necessary to unnerve and creep out audiences. The story of a father-son duo desperate to figure out the secrets of a deceased Jane Doe invites the audience to think critically about secrets and whether or not we can ever really know someone as well as we think we do. There’s an emotional heft, disturbing visual scares, and an constant sense that something’s wrong. Plus, Olwen Kelly manages to give an unmoving corpse a sense of agency and character. That should be reason enough for any genre fan to check this one out.
Rating	9.3/10
Grade	A

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2010s, 2017, A+, Comedy, Grade, Horror, Review, review-movie, Year, zombie

Review: One Cut of the Dead

November 6, 2020 The Critic Leave a comment

Director(s)	Shin’ichirô Ueda
Principal Cast	Takayuki Hamatsu as Higurashi Mao as Mao Harumi Shuhama as Nao Yuzuki Akiyama as Chinatsu Kazuaki Nagaya as Ko Manabu Hosoi as Hosoda Hiroshi Ichihara as Kasahara
Release Date	2017
Language(s)	Japanese
Running Time	97 minutes

In a lot of ways, One Cut of the Dead, is like The Cabin in the Woods. It’s a love letter to horror filmmaking and a dissection of of genre clichés masquerading as a horror movie. However unlike it’s western counterpart, this movie focuses more on the beauty of the film making process and its relation to horror as opposed to playing with horror tropes in general. As the title indicates, it’s a zombie movie shot in one uninterrupted cut, a B movie premise that attempts to elevate itself through camerawork and direction. It’s this elaborate display of style and juxtaposition with it’s schlocky content that gives this horror comedy a genuine life of its own.

The movie starts with an obviously fake looking scene, as an idol looking girl, Chinatsu, is attacked by a zombie, played by Ko. From the way she cries to the zombie reaching out to her to the lack of facial change as Ko bites into her, it’s apparent that the movie feels like a farce. Outraged at the lack of genuine emotion, Higurashi, the director stops the scene and verbally eviscerates his actors for being unable to display any real emotion and for actively interfering with his ability to produce the best movie possible. After being pushed aside, he angrily leaves the building the shoot is going on in. As he leaves, Ko goes to comfort Chinatsu and the duo start to talk to another member of the staff, Nao, who attempts to pacify their worries about the director. She even shows off them a new self defense technique she’s been learning – the “Pom” release method – to get the cast and crew back in good spirits.

The “Pom” defensive technique requires yelling “Pom!”, bending down , and shooting one’s hands up. Nao (Harumi Shuhama) demonstrates the procedure on Ko (Kazuaki Nagaya) as the trio waits for the director to come back from his tantrum.

Meanwhile outside of the building, Katsuhara, one of the cast members, sees an obviously sick looking man, Hosoda, wondering around. He jokes that the latter looks good enough to be a zombie in the movie and offers him a part, until Hosoda throws his body on the unsuspecting crew member and hurls his guts all over him, infecting him with something. Katsuhara’s previously calm demeanor turns deadly serious as he realizes this is happening for real. Just as the trio inside starts to get comfortable and back into their groove, Katsuhara, stumbles into the room with one his arms having been removed, blood dripping down his sleeve. At first the trio thinks of it as a joke, until Ko feels his pulse and realizes he’s dead. Before he can compose his thoughts, Hosoda attempts to break into the building, his eyes bulging out and blood dripping from his face. He attempts to attack the group before pushed aside. It’s at this moment the director comes back in and reveals that he completed a blood ceremony on the rooftop to bring to life some real zombies. His hope being that the injection of a real source of danger will be enough to get some genuine reactions out of his actors. Finally realizing that their director and his camera crew are fully serious on capturing their authentic reactions even at the cost of their safety, the trio reacts accordingly and runs for their life.

The story plays out in a way that’s simultaneously hilarious and disturbing as the cast is constantly put in unpredictable situations to get the best possible shot. The whole time Higurashi runs with his camera, screaming “Action!” at the top of his lungs, completely selling the mad artist angle. Even if it’s not the zombie movie he must have originally envisioned the show must go on and his absolute madness and willingness to change the script for the best result is what makes it so entertaining. It’s a strange artistic phenomena because the B movie suddenly becomes injected with a profound sense of energy. The fake nature of it becomes tinged and then infused with bits of realness as the pre-ordained story gives way to an adaptation in the face of new events. The cast members genuinely transform into aggressive characters bent on surviving the ordeal. Their actor personas are discardedin favor of actual survival skills in the face of the impending zombie apocalpyse. Their real personalities take over the façade they presented up to this point. For example, the playful Nao becomes downright malicious, fully embracing the bloody onslaught. Meanwhile the previously unemotive Chinatsu becomes absolutely terrified, as she’s forced to deal with the off-script shenanigans.

Nao (Harumi Shuhama) fully snapped dealing with the situation of acting against the unknown dangers present. Fully ready to kill anyone who gets in her way, she emanates a dangerous aura.

While all the action is unfolding, the camera never breaks from its continuous shot. Even during the strange moments where the crew is unsure of how to react to the idea they’re dealing with real zombies, the camera constantly lingers and keeps what’s important in the frame. As Higurashi chases the crew literally throwing zombies at them, the camera follows the madness at breakneck pace. The movie even reveals the cinematographer/videographer is really part of the story, as their hands come to clean blood off the screen to ensure that the shot is visible.

The cinematographer wipes zombie blood off the camera frame as he chases Ko (*Kazuaki Nagaya*) and Chinatsu (Yuzuki Akiyama)

The idea of the cinematographer running between crew members and zombies is hilarious, but they embrace the director’s frenetic energy and keep the main job in priority- producing a good movie despite the costs. It’s an absolutely mad balancing act that only gets better as the movie goes on and reveals the lengths that every member of the cast goes through to survive the filming ordeal (crew members becoming zombies incapable of following the script tends to cause things to go off the rails).

This is because at the heart of the movie is a discussion about art – the way we think about certain pieces of media being artistic versus others just being entertainment- the line between schlock and arthouse. Every perception is challenged as the fake movie gives way to a real, living assemblage of movie making that demonstrates the power of embracing chaos and adapting to the situation to make something truly staggering. Sure there are a few issues. Are some of the effects corny? Yes. Is the camera movement a bit suspect at times? Yes . Are there awkward pauses between characters as they struggle to deal with the madness they’re forced to endure? Yes. However, in spite of all these issues the movie manages to do what it sets out to do – tell a continuously shot one cut horror story about zombies. The fact that some of the in-camera editing can even happen as briskly as it can is testament to the hard work that goes on to sell the scenes. The fact the camera stays on the action the whole time in spite of the troubles caused by forces outside of the videographers control is testament to their willpower and strength in lugging a camera in tumultuous situations. The fact that the actors can pull out as much emotion as they do when push comes to shove is testament to their malleability in difficult circumstances. Even if the illusion of the story is something that’s hard to believe at times, the dedication to delivering a moving picture is something that leaps off the screen and shows that even cheap gore can be elevated into something to be admired.

If you’re looking for a film that genuinely scares you, this isn’t it. However, if you’re looking for a film that celebrates and demonstrates the power of horror, look no further. From the quirky story to the way characters reveal their real selves as chaos on the set ensues, this is a movie that’s an absolute blast to watch. You may not leave the movie frightened, but you will leave impressed with the power of filmmaking and the trial and tribulations gone through by every member of the cast and crew in delivering a piece that’s truly special.

REPORT CARD

TLDR	One Cut of the Dead is an innovative and moving love letter to B horror movies that demonstrates just how magical they can really be. From the continuous unbroken take to the layered and complex plot, this is a movie that really demonstrates the trials and tribulations gone through to make a movie, even one where the pacing of the plot and the practical effects aren’t the most lavish. If you’re a horror fan (especially of movies like Evil Dead), give this movie a watch. You won’t regret it.
Rating	10/10
Grade	A+

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1920s, A+, Fantasy, Grade, Horror, mystery, psychological, Review, review-movie, Thriller, Year

Review: The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari

November 5, 2020 The Critic Leave a comment

Director(s)	Robert Wiene
Principal Cast	Werner Krauss as Dr. Caligari Conrad Veidt as Cesare Friedrich Fehér as Francis Lil Dagover as Jane Hans Heinz v. Twardowski as Alan
Release Date	1920
Language(s)	Silent
Running Time	67 minutes

Jagged structures. Paths that go down when they appear to go up. Unnatural shadows painted along surfaces to confuse perception. The constant use of close-ups and iris shots to reinforce that every scene is a certain point of view. Wiene’s seminal work of German Expressionism, The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari is a tale that makes use of every method possible to reinforce the nature of subjectivity – the underlying deception hidden beneath the truth of everyday beliefs. From the masterful mise-en-scene to the way scenes transition to one anther, the story constantly reminds us that no character should be trusted as an arbiter of the truth, but rather as merely a malleable perspective on it.

The story starts off with a young man, Francis, talking to an elderly gentlemen about the madness he and his fiancé, Jane, faced at the hands of the nefarious Dr. Caligari. From the start of the movie, it’s made apparent this is a story, a certain point of view about a collection of events. This is a framing device done right, as the camera moves from the “normal” world to the crooked and sharp shadow world of Francis’s past, a reflection that this is a story told from a certain perspective.

Brilliant compositional work. There are moving pieces in the foreground and background which give the jagged and highly stylized cityscape a real sense of vitality.

This tale opens on a fair happening in the jagged city, a fair that a certain Dr. Caligari has come to in hopes of exhibiting a somnambulist (sleepwalker) to the public. As an excited crowd draws near to his tent, he opens up his titular cabinet and presents Cesare, a man who he claims has been sleeping since for the past 23 years, the moment of his birth. Dr. Caligari invites the crowd to ask Cesare questions, assuring them that the eternal sleeper can answer their inquiries without fail. Without missing a beat, Francis’s friend, Alan, asks, “When will I die?” Cesare, responds with an intense ferocity in his eyes, “At dawn”. Obviously perturbed at the ominous pronouncement, Alan and Francis leave Caligari’s tent with the former trying to comfort the latter. As they walk through the distorted cityscape, they run into Jane whose bright smile livens the both of them up. Unfortunately, all good things have to come to an end as dawn slowly approaches and Alan is woken by a unseen figure ready to impale him with a knife. The gruesome power struggle is not shown directly, but is rather displayed on the wall through the shadows of the two fighting one another. The depiction of the murder in this way conceals the identity of the true assailant, but also calls into question real purpose behind the murder. Shadows can be deceptive and in a city that has painted shadows everywhere to reinforce the idea that truth can be hidden and obfuscated, a battle between shadows can also be read as a battle between selves , between a hidden truth that refuses to let itself be seen.

Masterful use of shadows to highlight the dual nature of the killer and his victim along with concealing the mystery. The precise way the shadows move and are blocked by the jagged edges surrounding them makes the moment of unseen violence disturbing.

Upset at his friends untimely demise and concerned with the accuracy of Cesare’s prediction, Francis attempts to investigate Caligari and his so called sleepwalker. Unfortunately for him a stream of new revelations, deceptive appearances, and rampant uncertainties plague his journey to find the truth. People attempt to take advantage of the violence to plan their own nefarious schemes. Others maintain appearances to convince Francis that what he thinks he sees is not really what he’s seeing at all. All the while, the killer continues on their path, acting like a murder machine hellbent on fulfilling some agenda. As their identity is eventually revealed and a true chase starts to get to the bottom of the mystery, the threads of the story become even more refracted, breaking under constant reinterpretation by the principle characters. The city’s architecture shines through in these moments, as at one point the killer kidnaps Jane instead of killing her and leads the town on a wild goose chase. As it looks like the killer is going up stairs, it’s revealed that the stairs actually go down instead. A perceptual snafu that reinforces the idea that nothing is what it appears to be, even the killer themselves when their identity is finally discovered.

During this entire narration, the movie constantly uses closeups of characters along with iris lens shots to highlight that certain actions and interpretations stem from a subjectivity. Multiple scenes open up with only a minute portion of the scene being show, revealing a certain picture, that then becomes more clear as the entire scene comes into view. The repetition of this along with the clear close-ups constantly leads us to reconsider who’s story we’re following along and why exactly they’re telling it the way they are.

On the left is an image of a town women bearing witness to a certain event, unseen from anyone else’s eye. On the right is Jane (Lil Dagover) trying to get to the bottom of Alan’s mysterious death. Both demonstrate the use of the iris lens that Weine makes prominent use of to reinforce how every decision and idea is predicated on a point of view which can change as new information or ideas reveal themselves, filling the frame of reference so to speak.

The acting on display lets this dialectic play out to its full potential, as each actor conveys a plethora of discernible emotions through their faces and body language. Krauss’s Caligari is absolutely revolting in certain scenes, giving a sneer and sense of malice that absolutely leaps off the screen and gives reason to question him constantly. Meanwhile Veidt somehow gives a convincing portrayal of a man who’s constantly asleep, whose personality is completely kept under a kind of ideological mask that overpowers the subjectivity within. Dagover makes Jane seem serene and playful at first but quickly transforms into someone experiencing a genuine emotional devastation when she learns of Alan’s untimely demise. Finally, Fehér, the leading man, goes through the whole gamut of human emotion – cheerful with his friends, devastated upon the loss of one, desperate to figure out the reason behind the suffering, eager to bring those responsible down, and so on.

This may be a silent movie, but it feels so radical in so many ways that you can’t help but fall in love with what the piece manages to accomplish, both from a narrative and technical perspective. This is a story from the 1920’s that somehow manages to tell a tale of subjectivity in every way possible from the use of a framing device to the depth of the actors emotional conflicts. The city’s construction is iconic (and ever present in the aesthetic design of so many movies even now) and makes you appreciate just how much work and artistic vision went into creating the pointed and imprecise architecture. The buildings and streets genuinely feel like they’re alive, as the camera utilizes constant movement in the background and foreground along with the scenery to create an illusion of depth and (un)reality. At one point, Caligari is literally bombarded with words that appear on the screen all around him as though they’re real entities threatening to destroy his world. It’s a truly spectacular sight to see that’ll make you question how Wiene managed to achieve all of this almost a century ago.

Dr. Caligari (Werner Krauss) surrounded by words that seemingly assault him from all around, as these textual signals become part of the world’s fabric. A fantastic representation of the way ideology manifests and becomes something real that influences the way we act and move about in the world.

If you’re someone who’s not sold on watching silent movies give this one a shot. At under 90 minutes, it’s not a huge time investment compared to the possible upside. The sumptuous visual feast will give you more than enough to admire, while the multilayered plot and brilliant use of point of view will give you more than enough to think about. Who knows? You might find your perspective shifting.

REPORT CARD

TLDR	One doesn’t have to look far to see the influence of Weine’s seminal masterwork, The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari. From the pronounced use of shadows to the highly stylized cityscape this is a movie that defined the aesthetics for genres to come. It’s an absolute masterclass in mise-en-scene and the way the narrative constantly upends itself and reinforces that everything is just an interpretation from a certain point of view is truly poetic. This is a movie that takes subjectivity and ideology seriously and reinforces those ideas in every way from the formal construction of the movie to the story itself. I know silent films aren’t the most popular, but if you have 67 minutes to spare this one might change your perspective.
Rating	10/10
Grade	A+

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2010s, 2017, B+, found footage, Grade, Horror, psychological, Review, review-movie, Thriller, Year

Review: Creep 2

November 4, 2020 The Critic 1 Comment

Director(s)	Patrick Brice
Principal Cast	Mark Duplass as Aaron Desiree Akhavan as Sara Karan Soni as Dave Patrick Brice as Old Aaron
Release Date	2017
Language(s)	English
Running Time	80 minutes

Creep 2 starts after the events of Creep, with Mark Duplass’s character, now going by Aaron comforting his soon to be killed newly-made friend, Dave after the latter receives a baby Peachfuzz doll with a camera inside of it. After playing with his food for a short bit, Aaron kills Dave , but his face reflects a genuine state of sadness instead of elation at the completion of the bloody task. After the title card shows up , the movie cuts to Sara, an aspiring YouTuber, who meets with strangers on Craigslist and similar sites in an attempt to capture some interesting footage of potential weirdos. Clips from her episodes are shown and demonstrate that she’s interacted with a slew of lonely, alienated, and strange persons who all seem to convince her that strangers are harmless by and large. One of her early “clients” even shows her his baby Jaws shark figure with such elation that you’d think it was Aaron talking about Peachfuzz, setting up her future calm discussion with Aaron quite well.

One of the Sara’s (Desiree Akhavan) initial subjects on her web series Encounters talks about his Jaws 2 shark figure with the same fondness that Aaron gives to Peachfuzz.

With her online show, Encounters, not doing so well with the viewers (a point I think any content creator can relate to, myself included), she decides to respond to an strange and spooky request by Aaron against her better judgement in an attempt to give her channel the boost it needs. Once she gets to his place to inquire into the nature of the new job, she’s met with pure honesty from Aaron who describes himself as a serial killer. He slowly goes through his craft and the way it brought him joy before revealing that he’s recently run into a creative strut and wants to create a new and moving work. He takes inspiration from Francis Ford Coppola who he claims said, “I have not made an original film since The Conversation in 1974. I’m not sure I am capable of it, but I really wanna keep trying.” This statement by his cinematic hero breathes a new life into his creativity and like Coppola, he seeks to create something distinctly him in spite of his imaginative decline- a documentary.

In a lot of ways the movie reminds me of Behind the Mask: The Rise of Leslie Vernon, another movie that involves a serial killer getting a documentary made about his activities. But unlike that movie where every member of the documentary crew is aware of what the titular serial killer, Leslie, is capable of, Sara doesn’t take Aaron’s statements seriously. Sara and Aaron’s initial conversation is played 100% straight on the part of Aaron whose candid discussion of the macabre is 1 part funny and 2 parts terrifying. He discusses finding victims and ripping open their bodies as though its a task analogous to praying- it’s a normalized experience for him that used to give him a spiritual catharsis. Meanwhile, Sara responds calmly and normally, unperturbed by the absurdity of what her new client tells her. Her previous encounters have jaded her to the possibility that any of these conversations could be real, so she takes them as part of a delusion of sorts and just rolls with whatever Aaron says, eventually accepting Aaron’s request to film a documentary on his life to capture the essence of a true serial killer.

It’s a clever set up that solves a lot of the issues from the first movie – namely that Old Aaron had very little character depth by himself and only shined when interacting with Aaron (formerly Josef). Sara is a character that serves as a great foil to Aaron- both are creators, both are struggling to find meaning in their work, and both are hiding the real intentions behind what they’re asking of the other. The movie recognizes this and spends a decent amount of time on just Sara, giving the audience a reason to care about her and her deliberation process to understand her increasingly dangerous decisions. Meanwhile, the movie constantly plays with Aaron’s personality and history, giving him ample opportunity to provide a series of facts that may or may not be true. The name of the movie becomes trying to figure out who Aaron really is. What is his backstory actually about? Why does he do what he does? What is his actual end goal?

This characterization is where the movie shines because the presence of an equally strong agent in the form of Sara means Aaron has to change up his behavior and reveal more about himself. He doesn’t get to dictate every step of the plan because she pushes back and refuses to play his game the way he wants. Akhavan matches Duplass’s energy, move for move, never letting any of his eccentric movements or facial expressions unnerve her. She is a an absolute unit – stoic and unwilling to budge, exhibiting her desire to get the footage with facial expressions that exhibit a calmness to her body language which exudes control. Likewise Duplass turns up his manic energy from the original movie and acts like an absolute madlad , doubling down on his attempts at random jump scares and going so far as to scream maniacally at birds that threaten his frame composition.

Aaron (Mark Duplass) trying to get the perfect composition for his backstory reveal with the water meant to symbolize a Christ like connection. His arms are up to where he wishes the water would be and his frustration only increases as malicious bird screeches interrupt his every word.

Watching the two of them adapt to one another to gain an upper hand is enthralling, but the specter of disaster constantly looms in the background , because we as an audience do know what Aaron is capable of. We know he’s a murderer who’s can slit a throat at the ready. The movie reminds us of as much at the very start of it and then reminds us again with his eerie description of the joys he found in murdering. As a result watching Sara delve deeper into the game provides genuine tension – one, because we don’t know what Aaron is actually after and when he’s going to go for a kill and two, because Sara’s attempts to prod Aaron’s character further for her web show do irritate him and bring out genuine bursts of anger that make you think he’s going to off her on the spot.

In light of what we know about Aaron from the first movie, this second movie does a good job at fleshing out possible motivations and his profile overall. It’s a continuation of his character study and the amount of clues the movie gives about his motivations is present in every single detail. From the way he renames himself to his past victim, to the way he his initial victim in the movie reminds us of his victim in the first movie, to his obsession with framing shots in the documentary to reflect certain themes, the movie constantly gives the audience a treasure trove of clues to flesh out Aaron’s profile. One of my favorite moments happens in his initial job pitch to Sara, where he implies that the two of them need to see each other in the nude to do away with any strange power imbalances between them. As he strips down and she films him, you can see everything (genitals included). However, when she calls his bluff, strips down, and gives him the camera to film, he focuses on moving the camera and zooming in on just her face. It’s a small subtle moment that highlights what he may actually be after, but the movie is packed with moments like these so it’s definitely a fun one to think about.

On the left *Sara’s (Desiree Akhavan)* framing keeps Aaron’s (Mark Duplass) full body in view. When he drops the towel his entire frame is shown, genitals included. On the right is Aaron’s framing of Sara’s nude body. He zooms in and focuses on her face center frame, highlighting the difference in his motivations and desires. What those are is up to the audience to figure out.

Unfortunately, the upgrades to the character dynamics and exploration of their relationship comes at the cost of an ending that feels rushed and unsatisfying. One of the biggest strengths of the first movie is how the ending wrapped everything up succinctly and got under the skin by implying that the whole film had been filmed by Aaron, while confirming that he’s done the same many times. This ending does not feel nearly as neat and leaves the audience with a lot more questions than answers. The last few minutes make it certain that there is going to be a sequel, so I can only hope that a future Creep 3 makes well on the character study done here, but as someone who thinks movies should be as self contained as possible (sequel baiting annoys me on balance) the ending definitely feels like a let down. Does it mar my enjoyment of the amazing character interaction work done for the majority of the movie’s running time? No. But it does feel like a let down given how great everything before it was.

REPORT CARD

TLDR	Creep 2 solves most of the issues from the previous installment by giving the titular serial killer a powerful partner to play off against, who simultaneously serves as a foil to him while being a potential victim. The story of a serial killer actively exposing himself to create a documentary to relocate a creative drive sounds funny (and it is), but the movie constantly interrupts these comedic moments with a genuine sense of dread. Though the ending doesn’t quite land as well as I want it too, everything that came before it is exemplary. There’s a lot to chew on here as the movie invites the audience to really try and figure out what makes Aaron tick, without ever revealing its full hand. Taken in consideration with the original movie, this is a great character study into an enigma turned serial killer. I can only hope the next installment in the franchise gives us more to think about and hopefully some actual answers.
Rating	8.9/10
Grade	B+

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1970s, 1977, A+, Fantasy, Grade, Horror, mystery, Past, Review, review-movie, supernatural, Thriller, Year

Review: Suspiria

November 3, 2020 The Critic 2 Comments

Director(s)	Dario Argento
Principal Cast	Jessica Harper as Suzy Bannion Stefania Casini as Sarah Alida Valli as Miss Tanner Joan Bennett as Madame Blanc Flavio Bucci as Daniel Barbara Magnolfi as Olga Udo Kier as Dr. Frank Mandel Rudolf Schündler as Professor Milius Eva Axén as Pat
Release Date	1977
Language(s)	Italian
Running Time	99 minutes

The sound of drums progresses into a hypnotic rock lullaby, punctuated with whispers, screeches, and ominous ad libs. As the opening credits continue and the title track, aptly titled “Suspiria”, continues to play, narration suddenly cuts over the same, an indication to the audience that the following story will operate more as a poetic fairy tale than a straightforward tale consistent with a logic we normally expect. The narrator explains that a young American woman, Suzy Bannion, has decided to perfect her ballet skills at a prestigious dance academy in Freiburg, Germany and has flown out to attend it. As the narration ends the score becomes more violent and cuts out. The opening credits give way to Suzy entering the Freiburg airport. Everything seems normal – that is until the door leading out of the airport opens up. As they open, “Suspiria” plays once again. However, as soon as the doors close, the score disappears. This sequence repeats itself – the score playing while the doors open and disappearing when the close again – signals to the audience that outside the world of the airport the rules of reality no longer apply. Suzy exits the airport and the score suddenly bursts through the reality of the world culminating in a crescendo with a burst of rain to visually signify the torrential chaos to come.

Suzy desperately tries to flag down a cab, eventually finding one but becoming soaked in the process. As she gets in the vehicle to dry herself, the lighting in the movie reminds the audience that this is now a world of fantasy, as the screen is tinged with neon blues and reds, interrupted by bits of yellow periodically. The reds become an orange while the blues become a green, creating an everchanging color palette which keeps the eyes fully engaged with the screen. Harper’s face becomes the canvas upon which the colors dance making Suzy appear as though she’s being interpellated by and into this new phantasmal world.

Suzy ( Jessica Harper) bathed in neon reds, blues, oranges, and greens as she drives around the city. She’s become part of the fantasy world.

Her cab makes its way through an ominous forest filled with a plethora of tall and imposing trees, as Goblin hisses “Witch” in an eerie and disorienting way as the score still rages on. The cab pulls up to the school, an imposing building with a red exterior as the score comes to a close. She exits the cab and sees a girl, Pat, muttering nonsensical worlds by the entranceway and running away in a hurry. Suzy attempts to get into the school but is told to go away by someone on the other side. Desperate to get out of the rain, she gets back in the cab and looks for a place to stay until she can solve the issue the next day. As the car drives back through the woods, she sees Pat running through the woods. A new song starts to play – “Witch” which replaces the melodic “Suspiria” with a more intense and aggressive beat that conveys an immediate sense of danger as opposed to wonder. The movie switches from Suzy in the car to Pat as she she enters a dormitory whose architecture radiates an absolute aesthetic beauty, with pleasing geometric compositions littering every part of the room. The walls are bathed in in a blood red. However, the real oddity with this entrance room is its size, which feels exceptionally large when compared to Pat’s small frame, highlighting how tiny and powerless she is compared to the threat that she’s trying to get away from. The room threatens to swallow her up whole.

Pat (Eva Axén) entering the dormitory which seeks to envelop her.

She hurriedly rushes up the ornately decorated elevator to visit and stay with a friend of hers for the night. Obviously perturbed, even the smallest disturbance sets her off. She’s worried, but we still don’t know what it is that’s tormenting her. The camera switches to a view of her from outside the building, slowly zooming in like a typical POV shot in Argento’s other giallo movies. As she continues to look out, she happens upon a dimly lit set of yellow eyes and is immediately accosted by a pair of arms which break through the window, dragging her out of the living unit. She’s brutally murdered along with her friend, and the movie returns to Suzy, finally ready to start after giving the audience a preview of everything they should be expecting.

This is Argento’s masterpiece Suspiria, a fairy tale from hell born straight from German Expressionism given life through immaculate sets, gorgeous neon lighting, a bombastic score that never lets up, and compositions that make the piece feel more like a set of paintings than an actual movie.

This still on the right from one of German Expressionism’s masterpieces, Nosferatu, serves as a precursor to the use of shadows in Suspiria on the left. Argento and his cinematographer Tovoli manage to recreate the same mise-en-scene tinged with gorgeous neon lighting, breathing new life into the striking aesthetic.

The plot is sparse and as the narration at the beginning informs us, is more a throughline by which a series of nightmarish images and ideas are allowed to come to life. The story loosely involves Suzy experiencing a strange series of events while attending the supposedly prestigious dance academy. Pat’s death is merely the domino that sets the series of unexplainable happenings in motion. Who or what is the killer and what is their actual motivation? Certain scenes in the movie hearken back to traditional giallo images (ex: a POV shot of the killer looking at Pat and her subsequent brutal and gory murder), while other shots invoke a supernatural feeling that can’t be explained. The contrast helps drive the mystery and Suzy’s journey forward.

*Pat (Eva Axén)* being viewed at from the outside by some outside forces, hearkening back to the POV shots Argento loves to use in his giallos.

At a higher level , the movie is a coming of age story, about a young girl trying to find her place in a new and alienating world. One of Suzy’s first tasks is even getting to the school, because her accent makes it hard for the German driver to understand what she’s actually saying. Once she gets to the school she’s denied entrance. Once she’s allowed into the school, she’s immediately bombarded with requests to pay money for various services and items. It’s like a nightmare of what a kid has to look forward to as an adult, and this idea is reflected in every aspect of the set. The rooms are large and seem to swallow up the characters’ agency. Doors are slightly out of reach and make her and her classmates seem infantile. She’s constantly put in a position where her decisions are ignored in favor of instructors at the school who seem to have their own priorities. This larger thematic schema gives the horror a new dimension. It’s scary enough to navigate an alien world, but doing that as a younger person broaching into adulthood and being thrust into a new dimension of responsibility is something else all together. Combined with the supernatural happenings and bouts of violence that surround her, the world of Suspiria feels more like a gorgeous hellscape.

This is reflected in the genius visual design of the movie, which might be one of the best uses of color in cinema – full stop. Almost every scene is draped in a neon blue or red – the former representing an impending doom and the latter representing violence and death. At every turn these colors are transformed by the presence of a yellow, which transforms passive moments into active moments of tension. As red turns to orange, the characters and audience are lulled into a false sense of security that quickly evaporates as it becomes obvious that the characters are doomed. Likewise, as blue turns to green the danger that’s targeting the characters becomes active and threatens to fully envelop them in its violence. Luciano Tovoli works an ethereal magic in every scene in this way, by pushing colors to their absolute limits. There are dozens of shots which can be printed and framed as works of arts. A movie is lucky if it gets a few, but Tovoli makes Suspiria a buffet filled with them.

This combined with the score transforms the movie from a simple murder mystery into cinematic poetry, as every moment is punctuated with Goblin’s score. No piece of music ever feels like it overstays its welcome and each of them immediately tell the audience what they need to know – a character is being observed by the killer, a character is in danger, things are going absolutely off the walls. It’s hard to watch the movie and not be moved along by the score which is not only effective, but genuinely catchy. From the sharp and loud pounding noises in “Witch” that get the heart rate pumping to the whispery and otherworldly “Suspiria” the soundscape of the movie feels like a whole other character.

Keeping all the pieces of the movie moving together is Argento’s trademark pacing and macabre sensibilities. Just because he’s tackling a different horror sub-genre doesn’t mean that his usual bag of tricks won’t work. In fact I’d argue that the supernatural sensibilities of the story (due in part to the wonderful work of his undermentioned fellow screenwriter, Daria Nicolodi) let him push his ideas to their absolute extreme. Whereas his previous movies, like Deep Red or The Bird With the Crystal Plumage , had to obey some level of logistics when it came to killing victims and solving the mystery, Suspiria is allowed to explore sequences that would otherwise be impossible. Characters die in ways that you’d never be able to predict which helps sustain a palpable sense of tension throughout the movie. It’s impossible to know how violence will happen , but because the colors and music tell you something is going to happen, every moment is injected with a dread that only continues to build one bloody death at a time. The first 9 minutes of the movie starts the tension off right and the movie never lets up until the end credit sequence starts up again.

Many people place this as one of the greatest horror movies of all time. Many others go one step further and rank Suspiria as one of the most important cinematic achievements to date (given how many movies have been influenced by its visual style, I’d say that’s probably accurate) . I consider myself firmly in both of these camps. I’m someone who usually loves a good, layered, and intricate plot that ties into a nuanced set of themes. However, when it comes to Suspiria, all those inhibitions seem to float away because the magic of the movie, the poetic way it moves through its score and visual style, speaks to something more important than a need for logic and precision. This is a cinema in the purest sense of the word. It’s a piece of art that must be experienced and not explained. If you haven’t yet had the chance to see this masterpiece, I urge you to give it a chance. Let Argento take you to a world of nightmares.

Report Card

TLDR	Suspiria is a masterpiece that has to be seen to be understood. Its sensuous compositions are visually arresting at all times, with many stills from the movie being good enough to be framed as wall art. The score by Goblin keeps the tension high, turning the barebones story into a audiovisual poem that operates on the logic of a nightmare. The supernatural leanings of the story give Argento ample room to explore his macabre tendencies and help create some of the most striking displays of violence
Rating	10/10
Grade	A+

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2010s, 2014, B+, found footage, Grade, Horror, psychological, Review, review-movie, Thriller, Year

Review: Creep

November 2, 2020 The Critic Leave a comment

Director(s)	Patrick Brice
Principal Cast	Mark Duplass as Josef Patrick Brice as Aaron
Release Date	2014
Language(s)	English
Running Time	77 minutes

From it’s handheld feel and picture quality to its mumblecore dialogue, I wouldn’t blame someone for confusing this Netflix found-footage horror flick for one of the streaming services more eccentric documentaries in the vein of Tiger King. The film opens on Aaron, a videographer struggling financially, who’s accepted a project to film a client project whose details are only to be revealed upon meeting. He drives up to the address the client had sent to him previously and knocks on the door, eager to get to the assignment. He gets no response. Red Flag #1.

He waits outside the house, hoping that the entire situation is just one big misunderstanding. As he looks around he sees an axe in the tree stump. Red Flag #2. As he’s just about to call it quits Aaron, the enigmatic client, pops out of nowhere giving both Josef and the audience a jump scare – a sign of things to come. His gregariousness and enthusiasm for the project alleviates both Josef and our own worries. As he brings Josef into his house, he explains that he’s suffering from a terminal illness and wants to record a day in his life for his unborn child- a memento to give his child a way to see him as the “man he was”. A strange request, but one that tugs at our heartstrings and distracts us from the warnings that came before. Aaron agrees to the project and the duo sets off to record the everyday life of Josef.

Given the morbid nature of the assignment- chronicling an dying man’s natural activities for his unborn child- early recordings of Josef feel darkly comedic. Him roleplaying activities he wants to do with his child with nothing but his imagination might seem endearing , but it comes off as nothing more than comical and a bit unsettling. As the day continues, Josef continues to act increasingly unhinged. He goes from asking strange invasive questions under the guise of establishing a kind of rapport with Aaron to revealing an host of unsettling behaviors and truths about himself. However, each of these aberrant actions is justified with some emotional plea for Aaron to stay and continue filming the project and maintain a friendship with Josef. Despite every instinct both he and the audience share about getting out of the situation, Aaron consistently acquiesces to the erratic happenings. For example, Josef reveals early on that he had taken pictures of Aaron as he had driven up to the house. When asked why, he reveals that he was scared and he thought if he got to know Aaron before Aaron had gotten to know Josef then he would be less scared. This twisted attempt by each character to understand the other first is the heart of the movie.

Josef (Mark Duplass) showing Aaron( Patrick Brice) photos he took when the latter arrived at his house.

The audience is constantly left to question what exactly Josef’s game is and why Aaron refuses to ever leave the situation despite the constant red flags. The former is obviously scheming towards something, but the spontaneity of his actions make that something impossible to gauge. You know he’s going to do the unexpected, but precisely because it’s the unexpected each of these moments manages to shock and surprise. On the other hand, Aaron constantly gives his client the benefit of the doubt, extending a kindness that seems almost foolhardy given how little background information he has on him. As a result, the movie is best viewed as a character study, of two separate kinds of alienated individuals coming into a comedically nefarious entanglement. The question becomes why are each of them doing what they’re doing? Why is Josef inconsistent with his stories? Why does Aaron keep forgiving him? Getting to the bottom of these questions is what keeps you intrigued in the ever evolving game of cat-and-mouse.

For the most part, the experiment works. The movie does a good job establishing the practical reasons Aaron is involved with the project- his desperate need for money. Every strange action Josef engages in is immediately explained away in a harmless, albeit strange sort of justification. The extemporaneous and impromptu dialogue between the two makes every interaction feel natural. Both Duplass and Brice play incredibly well off one another, with the former channeling all the weirdest energy he can find and the latter mustering as much patience as possible for the antics he experiences. You know that the actors are delivering, when one of the best scenes takes place in complete darkness with Duplass narrating some genuinely disturbing events with such candor that it’s hard not to tremble in fear, even if for just a moment. Needless to say , all these over-the-top eccentricities become grounded in the story as opposed to feeling hackneyed which keeps a certain suspension of disbelief.

Unfortunately, the movie becomes a lot weaker once the story tapers off and focuses on just Aaron thinking about the situation by himself. The movie’s magic comes from the character’s interactions with one another, so the isolation of one of the two characters in the story removes the dynamic that makes everything up till that point cohesive and tense. This problem might have been resolved if the story delved deeper into Aaron’s psyche during these points, but even these moments do more at characterizing the enigma that Josef is than doing anything for Aaron. Josef doesn’t even need to be in the room to steal the screen. Given the ending of the movie, maybe that’s the point. Maybe we were never supposed to get either of the characters and were meant to just go along with certain statements of facts regarding them. The idea that it’s impossible to really understand them has a certain kind of charm in end of itself, even if it’s the one I wanted.

Speaking of charm, the structure of the movie invites a lot of interesting questions. How are certain events/moments recorded? Why are certain scenes put together in the way they are? Are the eccentricities of the movie staged or are they just detours on the path to the final conclusion? Each of these questions is answered and put together in a succinct and neat explanation at the end of the movie. I was someone who was going to write the film off as just a neat and effective flick, but the culmination of all the absurdities pays off in a way that ties together all the loose ends, even if its not the way I wanted or expected. If anything this is proof that a smart idea and tight execution is all that’s necessary to induce some chills.

REPORT CARD

TLDR	Creep is found-footage done right. It focuses on its characters and their respective interactions to develop an engrossing tale that’ll have you asking just what each character is playing at in what seems to be an increasingly demented game of cat-and-mouse. If nothing else, it’ll leave you with even more of a reluctance to answer any shoddy looking Craigslist advertisements for ad-hoc work.
Rating	8.7/10
Grade	B+

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1980s, 1987, A+, Grade, Horror, Past, Review, review-movie, supernatural, Thriller, Year

Review: Hellraiser

November 1, 2020 The Critic Leave a comment

Director(s)	Clive Barker
Principal Cast	Clare Higgins as Julia Cotton Ashley Laurence as Kirsty Cotton Andrew Robinson as Larry Cotton Oliver Smith as Monstrous Frank Sean Chapman as Frank Cotton Doug Bradley as Pinhead Robert Hines as Steve
Release Date	1987
Language(s)	English
Running Time	93 minutes

A man meets a merchant in an shop somewhere in the Middle East. He’s asked what his pleasure is. He responds that its the box with an intricate series of designs adorning it that sits on the table. He gives the merchant stacks of cash and purchases the strange item. The movie cuts to this same man, Frank, as he sits in almost meditative position, attempting to solve the box.

Frank (Sean Chapman) surrounded by lights in an almost religious meditative state trying to solve the mysterious puzzle box.

He pushes and pulls the pieces of it in various directions until it opens. Suddenly, bursts of electricity shoot out and hooks emerge from the walls around him, ripping his body apart in a gory display. A group of bald, pale faced creatures emanating a demonic yet angelic presence emerge in the room and push the box back to its normal configuration. All signs of gore disappear and the house is vacant once again.

Soon after, Frank’s brother, Larry, and his wife, Julia, show up to the house ready to move into it. They explore an empty room and find signs of Frank’s loitering – an unkempt bed, a porcelain figure depicting sex, and a series of photographs depicting Frank with a host of women, each depicting a deviant sexuality. As Larry goes down to call his daughter, Kirsty, and let her know that she should come visit the Cotton’s new homestead, Julia thumbs through the photos until the camera reveals that it’s not the sexual acts that interest her as much as the man engaging in them- Frank. She takes and hides a photo of him and leaves the room.

As he helps the movers settle the new place up with furniture, Kirsty shows up. Meanwhile, Julia goes up to the attic of the house, with her secret photo in her hand. She rips off the head of the women next to Frank. As soon as she takes this action, the sink Kristy is attending to bursts open. Coincidence? The movie seems to imply the opposite as the water shooting out the sink transforms into Julia reminiscing about meeting Frank so many years ago in the rain. As Kristy comes to ask for a towel, Julia points the way to the bathroom and disappears once again, eager to remember the man she truly misses. As Frank seduces Julia, tenderly touching her lips and having her reciprocate, his brother in the present attempts to move a piece of furniture up the stairs. Frank’s humping cuts to Larry grunting as he forcefully attempts to push the furniture causing him to catch his hand on a loose nail. Blood pours out as he rushes for his wife’s help. He finds her in the attic, breaking her journey into the past, and in sharp contrast to his assertive brother holds his hand out, ready to faint and begging for medical attention. She takes his hand, without any of the passion she showed Frank’s in the past, and calmly tells him they need to stich it. His blood drips onto the floor and mysteriously disappears underneath the surface. After the couple leaves the room, the floorboards shake once again as body parts slowly rebuild themselves in gooey and disgusting ways. Frank’s skinless body emerges, revived from the blood of his brother.

This montage is the story of Clive Barker’s Hellraiser – a women who can’t find passion in her marriage trading a facsimile of love for a lusty love with her partner’s brother. A brother coming and disrupting his brother’s life for his own satisfaction. Are the Hellraisers the Cenobites from the beginning who rip Frank apart, or are they the Franks that exist in peoples lives, ripping them apart for their own selfish whims and desires? Just as Frank burst into the newlywed’s marriage so many years ago taking his brother’s partner from him, he emerges in the household by taking his brothers blood. The brilliant editing and matching of elements – water from the pipes for rain, the tenderness of the erotic use of fingers between Julia and Frank versus the almost pitiful way Julia tends to Larry – tells you everything you need to know. This is a story about lust and the way perverse desires take control.

After discovering Frank’s body upstairs, Julia agrees to do whatever it takes to help him fully recover to his previous incarnation, even if it requires killing people to give Frank new blood- new fuel to regenerate the body that he had lost so long ago. This deviancy is reflected not just in the story and its progression, but in the plethora of intriguing and striking compositions that suggest and reinforce both a spiritual dimension to the hedonistic impulses of the characters and a perversion of a “normal” way of approaching pain and pleasure.

The image of the figures represent the duality of normalcy and deviancy – the action is the same but our perception of them differ radically. The “normalcy” of the sex by the couple on the left is changed into something perverse by the presence of the cockroach on the right.

Frank’s early tampering with the box evoke the image of ascetics of old flagellating themselves for spiritual enlighten, to control their inner desires. However, instead of seeking to curb his drive, Frank seeks to explore the uttermost limits of them. As he reveals, he opened the box because it promised to open doors to the “pleasures of heaven or hell. [He] didn’t care which.” The religious reference juxtaposed with the idea of pleasure as opposed to pleasure and pain makes it clear that hedonism is not the opposite spirituality. Pleasure can be found in both heaven and in hell. They’re two sides of the same coin – both promising a kind of liminal aesthesis – an agency that transcends the body and gives way to the soul. Obviously, it’s a radical idea tying in the practice of saints with the practice of sadomasochism, but the movie so finely repeats and plays with the connection that the torture porn it serves up gains a spiritual association.

This is best exemplified by the design of the Cenobites themselves. Despite only being on the screen for a short amount of time, they make their presence known and have endured as horror icons in the vein of Jason and Michael for a reason. In particular their leader, Pinhead, is absolutely a sight to see. As his name implies, his face is littered with a series of pins, both reflecting pain but also calling in images of acupuncture, a relief from pain. The circular shapes are littered along a linear grid, giving the otherwise macabre display a geometric aesthetic that’s oddly pleasing. Bradley adds to this mystique by speaking the characters otherwise terrifying lines with a sense of authority and coldness. It’s apparently clear that he’s in charge when he shows up, taking center stage, like a dark angel would.

Pinhead( Doug Bradley) radiates an authority and otherworldly beauty rendered horrifying by the presence of pins and body modifications.

As he tells the characters, the Cenobites have been known to be “angels to some, demons to others.” His appearance along with his cohorts serves as wonderful contrast to the heavy amounts of Christian iconography that occupy every inch of the Cotton household, with images of Jesus Christ appearing from everywhere, including hiding within a closet (how’s that for a queer deviancy?). There are so many small details that sell the realism from the spectacular lighting (the rooms become a hazy blue with cracks of light pouring in along with dust from their normal state) whenever the Cenobites show up to the way the floorboards take in blood and move.

The reason all these disparate elements come together as well as they do is the immaculate practical effects work being done. There’s a healthy amount of gore present- if the opening scene of Frank being ripped apart didn’t give it away- this is not the movie you should watch if you can’t handle blood. The way the flesh tears apart and the bodies are mangled and left emaciated will leave tingles running down your spine. Frank’s revival is one part disgusting and two parts fascinating as his entire body is slowly rebuilt in front of our eyes. It’s hard to imagine that hellspawn is not actually being born in front of your eyes. Skinless Frank looks like a real person who’s been ripped apart and oozing blood, when in reality it’s just an exceptionally thin Oliver Smith wearing a bodysuit . Likewise, the Cenobites themselves are a masterwork in both aesthetic design and actual presentation. None of the pins embedded in Pinhead’s face look fake and the mutilation present on the Cenobites’ bodies in general are disturbing, yet eerily beautiful.

Likewise, the performances are all on point and help develop the sensuous and kinky story in a way that doesn’t come off as farfetched. Chapman does a great job inducing and presenting himself as the asshole Frank is from the aggressive and confident way he positions and hold his body. Everything about him radiates a “bad boy” energy. Smith carries this over to his portrayal of the revived Frank, keeping the same “alpha male” personality but ramping the malice up to match the situation. Clare Higgins performance is the heart of the movie, given that her infidelity and desire for a heated romance, serves as the spark that moves the acts along. She absolutely nails the feeling of lust and dissatisfaction in the early montage when she thinks back to Frank and their night so many years ago. When asked to help revive him, she demonstrates both a tender affection for the skinless monstrosity and an eagerness to get the future she actually wants. Her character might just be looking for a good shag, but Higgins gives these motivations the desperation they need to make us care.

If I had a problem with the movie it would be with the way the final minutes of the movie proceed. There feels like a very clear cut off point that feels like its needlessly dragged out to induce some last minute tension and “will they/won’t they survive” thoughts in the audience, but the scares just don’t match the ferocity of what came before. In particular, there’s a focus on constantly utilizing the lighting effect that’s only briefly used throughout the movie to symbolize the Cenobites coming from the mysterious puzzle box. It looks corny and cheap compared to the stunning production of everything else and its overuse feels almost comical in the third act. On top of this, the nice shot compositions give way to a lot of extreme facial closeups along with some of the not-so-great practical effect creatures and it ends up making the last few minutes feel jumbled. Thankfully, this addendum gives way to a genuinely chilling final scene that’ll leave you chilled, so it’s not like the movie suffers a huge blow. It’s just a shame because of how perfect the film is up to this point.

Report Card

TLDR	Hellraiser is a bold and ambitious story that situates sexuality against spirituality to great effect. From the religious iconography to the absolutely spectacular practical effects, Barker’s’ feature debut has all the marks of a master work in horror, delivering on both the gore and the thought provoking idea that there is a kind of religious agency to be found in the liminal spaces of pain as pleasure. Whether you’re looking for healthy amounts of gore, deviant sexual and spiritual ideas, or a kinky horror movie, Hellraiser will “tear your soul apart.”
Rating	9.7/10
Grade	A+

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