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Film Review: The Exorcist – 1973

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Director(s)William Friedkin
Principal CastEllen Burstyn as Chris MacNeil
Linda Blair as Regan MacNeil
Jason Miller as Father/Dr. Damien Karras
Max von Sydow as Father Merrin
Lee J. Cobb as Lieutenant Kinderman
Release Date1973
Language(s)English
Running Time 121 minutes
The title card comes in a deep red font surrounded by black.
A black-and-white perspective on the sun rising.
The fantasy fades and the hues of the sun overpower the frame.
The opening sequence of The Exorcist marks the end of simplistic worldviews; order is broken and the world isn’t a clear cut black-and-white image anymore. The battle begins with a hellish intensity that must be overcome.

The film opens with a bright red title card as the Islamic call to prayer is heard in the background. A grayscale image of a desert is shown before its burning red, orange, and yellow hues dominate the screen. The simplicity of the black-and-white image gives way to a hellish haze that burns the natural environment around it. The world isn’t black-and-white and the battle between good and evil has begun.

Animals walk in the haze of the desert.
People dig at a site.
Location card indicates we’re in Northern Iraq.
Father Merrin (Alex von Sydow) is framed between the legs of a young boy looking up.
A series of establishing shots let us know we’re in a desert on a dig site somewhere in Northern Iraq. Despite being shot like a documentary, the establishing shots culminate in a picturesque frame where Father Merrin is trapped in between the legs of a young boy. It’s a sign of strenuous things to come, where he’ll be be starting at a lower vantage point.

We see a series of establishing shots – animals walking through a haze and workers digging up a site – before a location card shows up informing us that we’re in Northern Iraq. The presentation makes us feel like we’re watching a documentary. Eventually the camera comes upon and follows a young boy at the site who runs through the grounds. He stops and we see the subject of his search, an older archaeologist and priest named Father Merrin (Max von Sydow), positioned between his legs looking up. The child informs the priest that that something of interest has been dug up.

Despite the fact that the compositions and camera movements are done in a naturalistic, unassuming manner, director William Friedkin is still able to fill the film with evocative frames like this one to set up the narrative. Merrin is trapped by the child and the announcement. He looks up from a lower position suggesting that what’s to come will be a struggle for him, one in which he will be lowered. The fact that the one giving him the message and demarcating him is a child is not a coincidence; it’s just one small demonstration of one The Exorcist’s major strengths: the ability to portray events in documentary like fashion while retaining full control on what each frame entails in a thematic sense. This is how Friedkin transforms the ordinary into the extraordinary.

Merrin (Max von Sydow) finds the Medal of St.Joseph.
Merrin (Max von Sydow) finds a sculpture of Pazuzu’s head.
A lone bird flies through the sun covered frame.
Merrin’s (Max von Sydow) hands tremble as he takes his medication.
Merrin (Max von Sydow) sees a blacksmith tending to burning fire.
The blacksmith looks at Merrin. One of his eyes is clouded in shades of gray.
Father Merrin finds both a medal of St.Joseph and a sculpt of Pazuzu’s’, a demon-God, head. This double finding of a sign of good luck and a sign of bad luck will be repeated as a motif throughout the film. After finding both items, we see the sun dominate the frame for a split second as a bird flies through the frame – this creature will show up later. The experience disgruntles Merrin so much that even a simple encounter with a blacksmith becomes elevated.

Merrin walks through the desert towards the location of the aforementioned discovery and finds a medal of St.Joseph. The medal is out of place in the environment, both geographically and chronologically, calling to question how and why it’s present in the area. The film even calls attention to the discrepancy by having the characters mention that such an artifact doesn’t belong in the area. After puzzling over the medal, Merrin starts to dig and comes upon a sculpting. The sound of the wind gets stronger as he brushes the dust off the figure revealing it to be a statue of Pazuzu. [1] While Pazuzu is never mentioned explicitly, it’s clear from the material and discussion on the film that the figure is of Pazuzu. As he stares at the ominous looking head, the sound of buzzing flies becomes more intense.

Once again, the hellish haze of the sun takes control of the screen; this time its presence is brief while it burns not just the desert like before but also a large building in the background; the flames have made their way to civilization. A single bird flies through the frame; the conflict has started to move. The scene dissipates and we cut back to Merrin sitting in a crowded area. It’s clear he’s perturbed by his encounter with Pazuzu as his hands tremble fumbling with his medicine. From the way his eyes glaze out, we know he’s not taking in any of his surroundings; his mind is focused entirely on the presence of malevolence. He gets up and walks through the city before coming upon a blacksmith. The intensity of the flames from their work feels off-putting as they remind us of the intensity of the sun. A simple encounter becomes nefarious as our mind puts the visual cues together; a sub-conscious fear is being laid out.

Insert shot of the clock’s chime.
Insert shot of the clock.
Insert shot of a recovered statue head.
Merrin (Max von Sydow) catalogues his finding.
Merrin (Max von Sydow) picks up the Medal of St.Joseph. The clock goes on behind him.
Merrin (Max von Sydow) looks at the Medal of St. Joseph.
Merrin (Max von Sydow) looks at the head of Pazuzu while being informed it’s a ward against evil.
Merrin (Max von Sydow) notices the clock behind him has stopped.
Friedkin hides subliminal clues in this establishing montage; seemingly benign insert shots become triggers for a scare in the making. By clueing us in to look at the clocks, not from one but two separate angles, Friedkin manages to get our subconscious hyper-focsed on the clock. This is why it stopping hits as hard. The fact that it happens after a repetition of the double finding motif – Merrin touches both the medal and statue again – helps both techniques reinforce one another. This is how the film weaves psychic chains.

We see another set of establishing shots – a clock chime, a clock head, recovered statues – before revealing Merrin documenting his dig findings. He picks up the medal and looks at it for a brief moment before picking up the head. Another worker in the building notes that the head is a figure of “Evil against Evil.” This mention is not without purpose; Pazuzu is both a demon associated with the evils of the air and a God invoked by people to protect against other more malicious forces. [2]Near eastern antiquities : Mesopotamia. Statuette of the demon Pazuzu with an inscription – Near Eastern Antiquities | Louvre Museum. (n.d.). … Continue reading Thus, we have a symbol of God from a different area juxtaposed against the symbol of a God-Demon from a more local culture being discovered by a Father who is deadly terrified of the latter.

Immediately, the clock behind Merrin stops and our anxieties rise along with him. Because Friedkin disguised the clock parts as part of the establishing shot, our minds were primed to pay attention to the clock without being immediately aware of it. This makes its eventual stoppage more effective because it’s something we’re already thinking about. Friedkin shows us the clock multiple times in a non-innocuous manner, so he conditions us even further to recognize its disparity as off-putting. Combining this with the juxtaposition of the findings amplifies our unease, transforming a small clock pause into a moment of utter panic.

Merrin (Max von Sydow) walks past a group of Muslims praying.
A woman looks down at Merrin from above.
Merrin (Max von Sydow) walks past two women who are veiled.
Merrin (Max von Sydow) is almost hit by a carriage.
Even though nothing should be going wrong, we’re primed for the worst to happen. Every point of God is met with a counter-point of bad luck, so after Merrin walks past Muslims praying, we’re expecting something go awry. He walks past a woman looking down on him, just like the child did earlier, which starts the trepidation. After he walks past two women, we’re not even surprised that he’s almost run over. The film constantly generates expectations because of how it repeats itself.

Merrin leaves the establishment as a group of Muslims start to pray – a callback to the call for prayer at the start of the film. Despite being a man of faith, he makes no notice of the group and walks past them. It’s a continuation of the juxtaposition between the figures; orientations towards religions constantly mix and swap in this battle for and of faith. While the anxiety ridden priest makes his way around a corner, the camera cuts to a woman who seems him from up above looking down. The shot itself is nothing out of the ordinary, but it’s inclusion in an already tense movement makes us scared for the elderly priest. The last time someone was looking down on him, the child giving the announcement, he was met with a dark presence.

We cut from the women back down to Merrin who stares down at the ground as he walks past two women. Within seconds of passing them, he is almost ran over by a carriage which approaches from a darkened tunnel. Is this Pazuzu or is it just Merrin’s pre-occupation?

Merrin (Max von Sydow) looks up as a shadow comes over him and a gust of wind threatens to blow off his hat.
A statue of Pazuzu is revealed to be above, with the burning sun behind it.
Pazuzu and Merrin (Max von Sydow) stare off.
A man is revealed to be behind Merrin.
Dogs fight in the desert.
The camera zooms in on Pazuzu.
Pazuzu and Merrin (Max von Sydow) are engaged in battle.
Pazuzu and Merrin’s (Max von Sydow) battle dissolves into the red heat of the sun.
The heat of the sun covers everything.
The heat of the sun dissolves into the cool looking cityscape.
The city is revealed to be Georgetown.
Chris (Ellen Burstyn) hears some animal noises and goes to investigate. A black-and-white image of her daughter is positioned next to her bed.
Chris (Ellen Burstyn) puts on an orange robe and goes to investigate the source of the noise.
Regan (Linda Blair) wears yellow pajamas.
The window to Regan’s room is open and a gust comes in.
The confrontation between Merrin and Pazuzu sets the stage for everything to come and marks one of the greatest movie introductions. The wind and sound of animals are established to be antagonistic forces as their presence makes way while Merrin realizes he’s being stared down on by Pazuzu. Merrin has been set lower by the boy, woman above, and now finally, the demon-God before him. We already know the battle will be brutal. A man behind Merrin reminds us that the entity of Pazuzu is not one of pure evil; Merrin is reacting strongly but a local doesn’t move. The film is establishing sources of ambiguity.

At the same time, the battle dissolves into the harsh sun, tying the battle between Merrin and Pazuzu to the universal breaking of black-and-white morals. This further dissolves into Georgetown, which is bathed in a cool blue. The battle has changed locations.

As Chris moves from her black-and-white photograph of Reagan to Reagan herself, we notice that the mother-daughter duo pair are wearing the colors of the sun. Another movement of black-and-white breaking to the intensity of the solar spectrum. At the same time, the gusts of wind break through Reagan’s window. Another repetition.

An answer is given. Merrin walks down to the dig site and a gust of wind blows threatening to take his hat off. His face is cast in shadows as he looks up. The camera cuts to a statue of Pazuzu looking down upon him, the blinding hot sun appearing right behind the figure. Finally, the confrontation has come to a head. The sounds of dogs fighting and the gusts of wind rage over the soundscape as the two combatants take their stances. The two figures stand apart from each other, Merrin positioned lower looking up, as the scene dissolves into the burning bright sun – a confirmation that the days of a black-and-white world are over. This burning environment dissolves to an establishing shot of Georgetown; the arena of the battle has shifted grounds from Iraq to Washington D.C.

The camera moves from the city to the bedroom of a large mansion. We see Chris MacNeil (Ellen Burstyn) writing notes on her bed. On her nightstand is a large black-and-white portrait of her daughter, Regan (Linda Blair). Chris hears loud animal noises coming from her attic and gets up to investigate. She puts on an orange nightgown before checking on Regan, who happens to be asleep in yellow pajamas. The window in Regan’s bedroom is wide open and gusts of wind are blowing through. A black-and-white image that gives way to orange and yellow, gusts of wind, and animal noises are all signs that the conflict we saw in the opening act has made its way here. Once again, Friedkin has managed to tell us what’s going to happen with just the most subtle of elements, using the repetition of visual and auditory cues to highlight the parallels between the evil happenings between both locations.

Extras playing students on the film hold up signs in protests against the Vietnam War, which was hugely unpopular and televised at the time.
Father Damien Karras (Jason Miller) laughs in the background as he watches Chris and Burke squabble.
The sub-text of the Vietnam war is present but the reasoning for why is never given to the audience. Instead, we’re made aware of its odd placement in the film and then made to laugh at it as to let it float away, to the recesses of our subconscious.

The next day comes and we cut to a film materialized within the film; it turns out Chris is a famous movie actor and is on set filming a movie about the Vietnamese war. Extras on set hold up signs indicative of the counter-culture at the time. The Vietnam war was raging and was immensely unpopular to many college aged students at the time. The war was famous for being the first “televised war” and media reporting at the time made it infamous at large. [3]Spector, R. H. (2016, April 27). The Vietnam War and the Media. Encyclopædia Britannica. https://www.britannica.com/topic/The-Vietnam-War-and-the-media-2051426.. In particular, it was a time associated with the hippie movement – a group who was known for its opposition to consumerist bourgeois culture and Christianity. [4]Quinn, D. (2019, August 21). The mixed legacy of the 60s hippie movement. The Irish Catholic. https://www.irishcatholic.com/the-mixed-legacy-of-the-60s-hippie-movement/. It’s place in a film about supernatural evil feels out of place. However, this strangeness is called to attention by a crew member who asks the in-movie director, Burke Dennings, if “this scene [is] really essential” and if “[Dennings could] consider on whether or not [the film] can do without it?” Chris then follows up and asks Dennings to explain the student’s motivations for tearing the building down. In both cases, no real answer is given, but the mention of a purpose entices us to give the scene more attention than we would; immediately, we become aware that what we’re about to see has a purpose which allows the sub-text to become imprinted on our psyches.

Dennings ignores the crew member and responds to Chris’s question by reiterating her role. He tells her that as a “teacher at the college, [she] doesn’t want the building torn down.” In exasperation this non-answer , Chris exclaims, “C’mon I can read for Christ’s sake.” – the first verbal mention of Christ in the film – and continues her search for a purpose to the scene. Dennings is still unable to provide a reason and jokes around with Chris about the situation – diffusing it and providing entertainment for the throng of people who have come around the shoot to watch it in action. In the audience is a priest adorned in black, Damien Karras (Jason Miller), who smiles along in excitement at the proceedings. The joke diffuses us as well as it does the proxy audience within the film, causing us to drop our guard again; the lingering questions disappear, leaving only their spectral vestiges behind to accumulate in the the recesses of the mind.

Chris (Ellen Burstyn) mentions God as she tells the students to calm down.
The camera picks up on Damien (Jason Miller) as he leaves the crowd.
Damien (Jason Miller) leaves as Chris mentions that change has to occur within the system.
Chris (Ellen Burstyn) walks past a yellow door as the wind blows Autumn leaves past her.
Chris (Ellen Burstyn) walks past a red door as the wind blows Autumn leaves past her.
Chris (Ellen Burstyn) smiles at children in Halloween costumes running past her.
Chris walks past two Nuns, one of whom is carrying a rosary.
Chris ( Ellen Burstyn) sees Damien (Jason Miller) consoling another priest but can’t make out the conversation due to the loud noise of wind displacement.
The filming scene does a great job establishing that Chris and Damien’s paths have and will continue to intertwine almost as if fate is pushing them together. We start with Chris, hop to Damien in a crowd of faces, then cut back to Chris who eventually runs back into Damien. It’s a poetic movement; they can’t meet till the time is right.

Chris’s journey back is also a double of Merrin’s journey in Iraq. She walks past red and yellow (the sun), goes past kids in costumes (a symbol of evil against evil) and nuns holding a crucifix (a symbol of the Lord and two veiled women), while the wind blows and “Tubular Bells” play. We know she, like Merrin ,will have to deal with the forces of evil.

Our attention focuses on the scene itself as it begins. Chris, now in character, walks up to the top of the school and tells the students to stop their protests. Once again, she verbally mentions “God” in her exclamations while telling the crowd of extras around her that if they “wanna effect any change [they”] have to do it within the system.” The irony of a wealthy atheist actress playing a teacher working against the counterculture movement while invoking “God” and “the system” is so astoundingly blatant that the fact that Friedkin was able to disguise each element by only subtly drawing a viewer’s attention to it, while simultaneously not compromising the structure of the film proper is proof enough of how textured The Exorcist is at cultivating multifaceted themes. As Chris’s monologue comes to a close, the camera zooms in on a crowd of faces before finding and following the young priest, Karras, as he makes his way to the Church.

The in-movie scene ends and Chris walks back from the set to her mansion. The red, orange, and yellow Autumn leaves around her blow as the wind blows them around her. The iconic theme music, “Tubular Bells” plays, a confirmation to the audience that the sings they’re seeing are a confirmation of the evil that has come to lay siege to the MacNeils. Chris walks by a series of doors, the first of which is yellow and the last of which is red. Children, symbols of innocence, dressed in Halloween costumes run by her. The tradition of wearing costumes on holiday started namely to protect people from evil spirits. Costumes were meant to disguise oneself from evil. Wearing the monsters protected one from monsters – evil against evil. It’s fitting then that the innocent Regan, soon to be possessed, is being affected by Pazuzu of all entities.

Unlike the innocent depictions of costumes on these children, Chris will be forced to deal with the real thing; just like in Iraq, the conflict has started and Chris, just like Father Merrin, will have to come face to face with her nightmares. On the other side of the street, two nun’s walk by. Their presence does not make the sinister soundscape abate. This scene is done in parallel to Merrin’s own walk in the opening; both parties walk by women in veils as evil pursues. Eventually, Chris come to the Church’s gates and sees Father Karras. He starts to talk but both us and Chris are unable to hear as the soundscape is once again interrupted by the sound of the winds. Chris and Karras have not met yet but the seeds for their encounter have been planted.

With this, all the key players have been introduced and The Exorcist can truly begin as Regan MacNeil finds herself in a series of supernatural events that force her mother and self into action in a race to save their lives. The above description of the first 16 minutes is only scratching the surface of the intricate and deeply enigmatic story lying at the heart of the film. Hypnotic suggestions loom around every corner as the movie cuts between sequences in thematic fashion. Consequently, the story’s rythm always feel constant so we’re none the wiser to how much time has passed in between scenes. It’s from these “gaps” that Friedkin puts the mysteries of the film behind. Just like the medal Merrin finds at the start, The Exorcist is littered with minor oddities like repetitions of certain quips and details in the mise en scène like the cover of a magazine that are brought to attention and then pushed to the periphery only to pop up later in the strangest of ways.

Strange cuts and displacements offer an answer one way, while the nature of the narrative suggests others. Based on how a viewer interprets one event, they color the way other events proceed; each of these decisions, culminates in how one processes the ending and subsequently the themes of the movie. Each little detail is placed there with a purpose, waiting to be deciphered in the matrix of meaning afforded by the rich subtext the film employs. The end result is a movie with an infinite permutations of meanings, each justified by an orientation grounded in the film itself.

For example is the film, like Stephen King suggests, about “the entire youth explosion that took place in the late sixties and early seventies”? [5] King, S. (2010). Danse macabre. Gallery.The film-making scene in-movie would certainly be evidence to suggest as much. Or is the film about the way we demonize the Other? The use of Pazuzu as opposed to directly invoking the Devil from the start is a choice made for a reason. These are only a few of the questions the movie allows us to ponder. Every detail, no matter how small it is, presents with it another layer of themes by which to interpret the primary conflict and a set of questions along with them. It’s not an exaggeration to say that one could watch the movie on repeat and come to a different conclusion each time.

Regan (Linda Blair) is shaken by her blue bed while dressed in yellow pajamas.
Chris (Ellen Burstyn) talks to Dr. Klein (Barton Heyman) in a blue hallway.
Lt. Kidnerman (Lee J. Cobb) accosts Damien (Jason Miller) in front of blue seats.
I have to applaud the efforts in production design to ensure such a consistent color scheme. One only has to pause at a important enough juncture to see the scenes bursting in either blues, oranges, reds, and/or yellows depending on the nature of the scene. Whether it be in the architecture or the clothing, the relevant colors are there when they need to be and frequent enough to not feel like coincidence.

This is due, in no small part, to the way Friedkin repeats motifs, making the connections between seemingly disparate moments seem clear if one is looking. The colors red, yellow, and orange are first introduced at the start of the film and represent the spiritual battle. Whenever the colors prop up in the mise en scène, like in the color of the doorways or the characters clothing, we can already tell something is afoot. This is the color of the fight. In contrast, blues envelop the screen whenever a party is attempting to work against the malicious entities. It makes sense from a color theory perspective; in contrast to the heat feeling generated by the sun’s gradient, the cool and calm feeling of the blues feel like a natural response. Likewise, wind makes its presence apparent preceding scenes of terror, reinforcing Pazuzu’s dominion and area of reach. Animal noises like growls and barks creep into the soundscape reminding us of the buzz of the flies and the fighting of the dogs in Iraq while “Tubular Bells” all but confirms the sinister is going to happen when it turns up.

Damien (Jason Miller) tells Tom (Thomas Bermingham) that he, Damien, has lost his faith.
Chris (Ellen Burstyn) hears animal noises from above.
Ellen (Chris Burstyn) bathes Regan (Linda Blair) after the latter’s incident. The darkness crowds around them as the light gets further away.
The fact that Friedkin could get some of the shots he did with the style of filmmaking he was pursuing is testament to his genius. The use of harsh shadows, smoke, and distant sources of light let him give all his images a distinct texture while enabling thematically rich visual storytelling.

Furthermore, the film’s lighting and use of shadows hearkens back to German Expressionism movement, and to an effect the noir movement which was deeply influenced by the former movement. Smoke fills many frames, emanating from cigarettes constantly being lit and the freezing cold temperatures of the increasingly chilly gusts of wind, giving them a more textured and gritty look. Lighting is harsh and often shows the dark nooks and corners in characters faces. Shadows encroach on characters visually demonstrating the influence of evil on their lives. Likewise, divinity comes in the form of bright lights which often show up near the spiritually inclined characters.

By sticking to a mostly unassuming style, Friedkin is able to employ all the above stylistic flourishes, call attention to them momentarily, and then sweep that attention under the rug in favor of something else. The end result is a hypnotic film that creeps under the skin without notice. Suggestions become patterns which become motifs that inform how one proceeds down the mine. Our mind is conditioned to associate certain triggers with evil and others with good, ultimately giving the viewer full reign in determining what the film really means.

The documentary like severity by which the subject matter is treated is the reason this subsequent engagement is so powerful and potentially cathartic. Because everything leading up to the supernatural phenomena is so grounded, the inclusion of such events is given a real power. Every single actor, from the main to the side cast, deals with the events of the film with a cold sense of realism forcing us to do the same. While I could spend at least a few paragraphs detailing the meticulous performances on display, I mainly want to draw attention at how well the film humanizes our leads and gets us to care about their well-being. In particular, the mother-daughter relationship between Chris and Regan, played by Ellen Burstyn and Linda Blair respectively, is sweet and endearing; their love is palpable. Blair presents her soon-to-be possessed character as innocent, whimsical, and child-like.

This is why her flip to cruel and off-kilter hits so hard; it feels impossible to believe that such a sweet little girl could transform into something so much more sinister. There’s no respite from the macabre cruelty put on display. One isn’t allowed to escape from the violence or allowed to cast it aside; instead, they’re forced to sit and marinate with it, imbuing it with their own personal subjective tendencies. It’s no wonder then that the film elicited such strong reactions when it was released with some more sensitive members fainting in theatres. [6]Vanderbilt, M. (2017, August 23). Audiences had some intense reactions to the exorcist in 1973. The A.V. Club. … Continue reading The movie tapped into the cultural zeitgeist at the time and pricks on a litany of unconscious fears and desires ranging from generational to cultural that are bound to generate strong responses even now and it does all that while remaining a conventionally frightening movie that doesn’t cheap up on the spectacle of the scares.

There’s a reason The Exorcist is often the first name mentioned in discussions regarding the greatest horror films of all time[7]I’m in the camp of critic Mark Kermode who regards The Exorcist as the greatest film of all time. I’m not at that level, but I have the film in my top 30 of all time and it constantly … Continue reading At one level it is as spiritual of an experience as a film by Dreyer or Bergman and then on another level it’s use of spectacle is of the greatest variety providing chills so deep and unsettling that they still serve as a benchmark, along with John Carpenter’s The Thing, on how to utilize practical effects to make horror as real as possible. It is a film that understands true terror lies hidden in the unconscious, so it employs psychological ands subliminal tricks to prime our minds and feelings for the nightmares to follow, but it doesn’t forget that the audience has come to be scared, so it pays off all the tension with the most depraved and upsetting images it can. It’s one of the crown jewels of cinema and is proof the medium’s power at truly probing the corners of one’s mind. Friedkin puts it best in his intro to the film: ” Over the years, I think most people take out of The Exorcist what they bring to it. If you believe the world is a dark and evil place, then The Exorcist will reinforce that. But if you believe that there is a force for good that combats and eventually triumphs over evil, then you will be taking out of the film what we tried to put into it.” [8] William Friedkin’s Introduction to The Exorcist. Warner Brothers. (1973) The Exorcist.

REPORT CARD

TLDRThe Exorcist is one of the greatest works of cinema, let alone horror cinema, serving spiritual lessons along with nightmares in equal amount. It is a film that treats every frame as an opportunity to set up subliminal scares, demonstrating that the best results require the most delicate of touches. By lulling the audience to the film’s hypnotic, but elliptical, rhythm, Friedkin forces every viewer to engage in a subjective tango with his mangum opus thereby ensuring that no two viewing experiences are totally alike. Multiple events in the film require the viewer to imagine their own scenes of terror in order to get a “whole” perspective on what transpires. If you give yourself wholly to it, The Exorcist will take you on an unbelievable journey that only the cream of the crop of cinema can dare to venture. The choice is yours.
Rating10/10
GradeS+

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

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2000s, 2008, Action, Adventure, B+, Grade, Marvel, Past, Review, review-movie, Science Fiction, Superhero, Year

Film Review: Iron Man – 2008

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Director(s)Jon Favreau
Principal CastRobert Downey Jr.as Tony Stark
Terrence Howard as James “Rhodey” Rhodes
Gwyneth Paltrow as Virginia “Pepper” Potts
Jeff Bridges as Obadiah Stane
Shaun Toubas as Yinsen
Release Date2008
Language(s)English
Running Time 126 minutes
Report CardClick to go to Review TLDR/Summary
  • A military convoy drives down a desert.
  • AC/DC’s “Back in Black” plays from Tony’s personal radio which looks out of place in the tank.
  • Tony sees one of his company’s missiles land next to him.
  • Tony (Robert Downey Jr.) is punctured by the blast shrapnel as the blinding sun hovers over him.
  • The sun fades to a blinding light source.
  • Tony (Robert Downey Jr.) is captured by the 10 Rings.
The opening of the movie establishes that we’re in a desert. The tank convoy seems to be subsumed by the environment around it. This imposing environment is disrupted as we cut to the tank Tony is in. His personal boombox blasts rock music in protests against the silent environment as he likewise tries to coax the nervous soldiers around him into becoming more jovial. This fun is immediately shattered as Tony is grievously injured by one of his own missiles. He wakes up from his injury captured by a terrorist group at which point the movie cuts to 36 hours in the past.

We start in media res as Tony Stark( Robert Downey Jr.) , a billionaire inventor and weapons manufacturer, tries to ease the tension in a tank full nervous soldiers. His jovial and comedic décor feels as out of place in the vehicle as the presence of AC/DC’s “Back in Black” does playing in the soundscape of a barren wasteland (from a diegetic source at that: Tony’s personal radio); a rock and roll persona and sound trying to make their impact felt in a war-torn environment seems the perfect analogy for the story to come.

Tony’s presence breaks through to the soldiers who finally feel at ease with his celebrity behavior. A soldier asks to take a picture and puts up a peace sign to which Tony comments that it’s because of peace that he’s still in business; weapons in war are needed for eventual tranquility. The soldier puts up the peace sign for the picture at which point the convoy is ambushed, the soldiers are killed, and Tony experiences firsthand the devastation of his own weapons as one of his missiles lands near him, explodes, and sends shrapnel straight into his chest. A peace achieved through war imploding as peace breaks to war. Poetic.

The screen dissolves from the blinding hot sun Tony stares at while bleeding out to a lighting fixture. We cut to Tony being held hostage in a cave by terrorist figures. The title card drops and we go back in time 36 hours to when Tony was living the life we’d expect of a “genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist”. He misses a conference in his honor in lieu of gambling with groupies. He deflects criticism of his war profiteering with quips and flirtatious machinations. Any serious matter meets him and turns into something fun-filled and fantastic instead, but we know how his story will eventually go.

While the structure of the opening isn’t as ambitious as something like Nolan’s Batman Begins (which also starts in media res), but extends the layering of different timelines to more effectively demonstrate its protagonists core traits and paths forward for growth, it does a good enough job of keeping the audience enthused and invested in Tony’s journey. We know how Tony’s character traits have led him to where he is and as such can better appreciate and focus on his development through the film. It’s at this point we return to Tony in his current situation, trapped by a terrorist group who demands he make them the same weapons that he sells the United States.

  • Tony (Robert Downey Jr.) poses with a solider who puts up a peace sign.
  • Tony (Robert Downey Jr.) puts up a peace sign while being rescued.
The peace sign transforms from a hollow symbol that Tony references as being the end goal of his military inventions to being the driving force motivating him to remove his weapons from the wrong hands. The sign previously held by the soldier becomes more personal to Tony; he’s now authentically pursuing peace.

With the help of another trapped scientist, Yinsen (Shaun Toubas), Tony manages to create and escape in an armored suit attached with a variety of weapons. It’s in this “iron man” suit that he escapes from the compound after setting it to flames. After an trek in the desert, he is found by the military. He puts up the peace sign again – the first time since he put it up jokingly with the soldier earlier- with a real understanding of the dark side of the price paid to achieve it and newfound mission : removing his companies weapons from the hands of criminals and terrorists.

Even though the story’s beats feels well-trodden now, they still manage to remain unique and captivating in an sea of Iron Man copy-cats (many of which are done by Marvel themselves). In some part, this is due to Iron Man’s successful lifting story elements from – and I don’t mean to beat a dead horse here – Batman Begins, which is in many ways the archetypal super-hero origin story. Executing the flashback start, a protagonist struggling to maintain a balance between their sense of duty and their humanity, and an antagonist set-up that operates on multiple layers in a way that’s compelling would already make Iron Man a fantastic mimicry with an interesting enough set of themes (namely the duplicity of the military industrial complex), but what pushes and sets it apart from both Batman Begins is its absolute commitment to making the human part of the story real. No character, from Tony’s friends to the man himself, comes off overly serious (Batman Begins) or overly campy (Batman & Robin). Instead each of them feels grounded and genuine, both in the way they carry themselves and the way they deal with Tony’s subsequent decisions.

It’s surprising then, to learn that the movie followed a very bare-bones script and required the actors and director Jon Favreau to improvise many scenes on the day of [1] Woerner, M. (2015, December 16). Jeff bridges Admits Iron Man movie had no script. Gizmodo. https://gizmodo.com/jeff-bridges-admits-iron-man-movie-had-no-script-5417310. You wouldn’t be able to infer based on the fluidity and cohesiveness that the actors are interacting with little planning which is a mark of praise for everyone involved. The end result is a movie where all the characters interact and come off of one another in a smooth non-manufactured way. The quips we’re used to now in Marvel movies feel far more authentic here because they naturally arise from the situation as opposed to feeling like an attempt at controlling our emotional response to the situation. It helps that in comparison to Tony almost every other character is quip-less which makes Tony’s zingers more prominent and distinct in comparison to the dialogue happening around him. The result is a movie where almost every character is one we can believe if not get behind allowing us to suspend our disbelief at the comic-book extremities and sip the superhero smoothie with ease.

In particular, the relationship between Tony and his secretary/love-interest, Pepper (Gwyneth Paltrow) propels the movie in a way that previous entries in the super-hero genre have felt lacking. The friendship between the two is established in the first flashback and lets us know that they have a long and storied history with each other and are aware of each others mannerisms. It’s clear there might be something there, but we know it won’t work because of Tony’s traits; he’s egoistical, unable to remember basic things (like Pepper’s birthday), and is focused on fully enjoying and embracing his status as billionaire playboy. The subtle nuances in their interactions are a result of both Downey Jr.’s and Paltrow’s fantastic ability to play off another – their chemistry feels palpable. The sense of progression he works on pursuing his new goals and begins to change, Pepper (and us the audience) and his relationship serves as a kind of barometer on his character growth.

Additionally, Tony’s growth is characterized by his suit in a literal sense. At the start of the movie, he is impaled by shards from a stolen missile of his. The weapon he made to stand for peace thus threatens to take that very peace away from him in every way. These shards are held at bay with an arc reactor he makes with Yinsen. This shining bright circle in the middle of Tony’s chest is the heart of his suit, powering the machine, is necessary in keeping his literal heart beating, and is the start of his first real human interaction in the form of Yinsen thereby representing a more metaphorical heart. He goes through a few reactor changes; each scene involving them is matched with a similar movement in his character – the fact that Pepper is so intimately involved with this motif in particular adds to Tony’s humanity as well, ultimately giving the movie it’s staying power in a sea of superhero movies.

Unfortunately, the thing holding the movie back from the highest echelon of the genre is how safe the movie plays with some of the unique elements it introduces. The start of the movie primes us to get ready for a rock infused score that coincides with Tony’s aura at the moment. I kept hoping that the music would continue as a motif; something like a different style of rock for different moods and progressions would have been interesting. Instead, the rock music is used sporadically and we hear a generic feeling score in the background [2]This shocked me given the composer is Ramin Djawadi whose Game of Thrones score I absolutely adore. I wish he could have captured more of the badass, independent, rocker vibe we get from the actual … Continue reading Likewise, the propulsive energy and clever plot development that defines the majority of the movie comes to a bit of a hiccup near the climax when the story decides to capitulate to cliché that it had no need to give in to. It’s not that the final clash is horrible or unsatisfying; there are clever callbacks littered through this sequence and the way it concludes is neat in the context of certain motifs. It just feels like it betrays possible clever ways out in favor of an option that’s totally unnecessary.

It’s a testament to the cast and crew that even over a decade into the Marvel franchise, Iron Man stands up as one of the better movies responsible for laying down an effective formula that the studio has been using in it’s movies ever since. The action scenes and many of the more “quiet”[3] By quiet, I mean the slower suit transformation sequences that feature less action but still look awesome. digital effects scene still have that same wonderous (and now as time has passed, endearing) effect years later because their aim is to create the same propulsive feeling found in comic books proper. While it may no longer be as “shiny” as it once was, Iron Man is still a movie you can put on and have a great time with.

REPORT CARD

TLDRIron Man is proof that some gambles are worth taking. Though the movie started as an un-scripted grab-bag of ideas, the end result is anything but – feeling as slick as the Iron Man suit Tony Stark adorns. By focusing on creating an immersive and lived-in world from the geopolitical discussions to the nuanced way characters work off one another, Favreau and his team managed to create one of the most “humane” super movies. It may not be as flashy as some of the best in the genre, but it’s staying power stems from the heart feeling it generates. It’s simply a great time.
Rating8.6/10
GradeB+

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2020, 2020s, A, found footage, Grade, Horror, mystery, Past, Review, review-movie, supernatural, Thriller, Year

Film Review: Host – 2020

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Director(s)Rob Savage
Principal CastHaley Bishop as Haley
Jemma Moore as Jemma
Emma Louise Webb as Emma
Radina Drandova as Radina
Caroline Ward as Caroline
Edward Linard as Teddy
Seylan Baxter as Seylan
Release Date2020
Language(s)English
Running Time 56 minutes
Report CardClick to go to Review TLDR/Summary
Haley starts the Zoom meeting at the start of the movie.
Haley removes the tape from her camera.
Haley (Haley Bishop) sends out invitations to the meeting.
Someone else joins the meeting as Haley steps away from the camera.

We start in the virtual plane. A Zoom call opens up. The mouse moves to start up a meeting. The computer screen is the stage this play takes stage on. The physical pierces through the virtual as the filter tape that covers the meeting host’s camera is slowly removed. Privacy gives way for a chance at intimacy. We finally see our host, Haley (Haley Bishop), as she gets ready for meeting. Unbeknownst to her, someone else has joined her meeting room.

Haley moves the laptop down the hallway to look for the noise.
Haley discovers Jemma (Jemma Moore) is the source of the noise.

Suddenly we hear a loud thud. Has something happened already? Does it have something to do with the unseen participant in the room? Haley leaves to find out, moving the laptop with her to bring us along on the journey. The screen is no longer bound to one place and is allowed to be active. As she makes her way to her living area, she realizes the sound is coming from outside. She peers out the window.

Crisis averted. She realizes that this noise, this false source of fear, is her friend Jemma (Jemma Moore), who’s outside making a ruckus in an attempt to get Haley to give her, Jemma, permission to join the zoom meeting; thus, the boundary between the physical gives way to the virtual as the encounter between the two transitions to the online call.

In just a little under 4 minutes, Rob Savage’s Host manages to showcase its themes, set up a scare, and foreshadow the structure of the story (along with finer plot details). As the rest of the members of the Zoom meeting show up, it’s revealed that the jolly group of friends, made up of 5 women – Haley, Jemma, Emma ( Emma Louise Webb), Radina (Radina Drandova), and Caroline (Caroline Ward) along with their male cohort Teddy (Edward Linard ), have come together under Haley’s instructions to perform an online séance. However, it becomes clear that things are going to take a turn for the worse as the group is inevitably forced to defend themselves against supernatural forces.

Now while creepy séance movies are nothing new, Host manages to raise the stakes by taking the process online. A séance is a ritualized procedure whereby individuals participate with one another to communicate with the spirits. The procedure involves the dissolution of the physical into the spiritual. It is not a coincidence that the nature of a séance matches up so well with the nature of an online meeting. Like the best J-Horrors (Pulse, Ringu), Host is focused on exploring the way the web has become the realm of a new spiritual – a site of connectivity where the the bonds between the living and the dead commingle. As communication transforms so does the nature of the haunting.

This is where the COVID-19 quarantine based setting of the movie comes in. Participants in a séance have to follow protocol to safely engage with the astral world. Breaking these rules can have consequences in the same way that breaking quarantine protocol can. Quarantine limits communication, relegating people to online messages as opposed to in person discussion. Without the physical presence of people around us, the way we engage in that conversation changes. We may be less inclined to follow rules of decorum or less likely to be as committed to engaging. In a more intimate sense, the forced closeness generated by quarantine protocol means that in-person relationships are forced to weather increased presences. People who you might have been able to ignore now are an everyday presence, and if they choose to ignore protocol they can end up infecting you with the virus potentially harming you and those you love. Privacy becomes harder to feign because the private is forced to seep into the public – another dissolution.

It is these qualities that makes an online séance during COVID-19 quarantine the perfect melting pot of ideas and themes. Barriers between the physical, spiritual, virtual, public, and private bleed into one another forcing us to ask tough questions about what we think about those closest to us and ourselves. Corona is compared to the nature of haunting. The breakdown of spirits is compared to the way the virtual space is made up. Each layer of the movie works on it’s own, but the strength of the movie comes from the way the ideas so easily build upon and proceed into one another.

This can most be seen in the way the movie marries its metaphysical vision to an equally exciting visual style. The way the script tackles its particular spirit(s) gives Savage and co. carte blanche to go hog wild with their ways of supernatural scares along with building up a mythos for what’s going on. Early on, the movie intentionally calls note to some small flickers on a user’s screen to goad you into focusing onto small details. That way when the screen changes from the group view to the individual view and back, you’re hyper focused on making sure nothing’s moving. The smallest flicker can elicit a scare. By layering moments like these early on, the movie manages to ratchet up the tension to incredibly high levels.

However unlike its most of its found-footage contemporaries, Host isn’t satisfied with just going for micro-scares and ending with one big scare akin to Paranormal Activity. It’s more ambitious and plays closer to something like James Wan’s The Conjuring; there are beautiful big set pieces, scares that are set up earlier in the movie, and practical effects are deployed wherever possible to help enhance the sense of immersion

Despite being constrained by filming (mostly) by themselves in their own apartments., Savage and his crew don’t shy away from going for big and impactful scenes with real heft demonstrating that embracing limitations is a powerful way to ground scares. Because it starts small and builds up progressively, the story is able to explore the development of the spiritual and offer space for questions to form on what’s actually going on.

By grounding the more horrifying elements of the supernatural encounter the movie’s individual elements can congeal. This is primarily achieved in two ways:

  1. Careful attention to characterization details
  2. Maintaing the feeling of a Zoom call.

Subtle interactions between the characters and in relation to the way they describe/deal with their respective living situations helps to fill in a lot of context as to what they’re doing and their respective histories with one another. Every piece of dialogue feels natural and conversations between the character’s feel consistent and proceed in a way that’s too natural to feel scripted but to well put together to fell fully done off the cuff. For example, early on the girls rag on Teddy before he shows up. Anyone who’s had friends can tell that under the playfulness is a real frustration at his presumed recent callousness at their group interactions. Moments like these are a testament to both the editor, Brenna Rangott, for picking clips that seamlessly flow off of one another and the cast and crew for playing off one another in a way that feels like actual friends would.

From left to right and top to bottom: Emma (Emma Louise Webb), Caroline (Caroline Ward), Haley (Haley Bishop), Jemma (Jemma Moore), Radina (Radina Drandova). The group uses the Zoom audio interface to boost up their ability to capture potential noises happening around them demonstrating both a commitment to the application and a neat way of using it to the movie’s advantage.

However, what grounds the film and makes it work is its impeccable formal consistency; never once does the film break away from the formatting of a Zoom call. It starts and ends on the application proper. The audio and video feeds range from high definition and nice microphone quality to scratchy and lagging video streams. The characters make use of functions in the application to problem solve a variety of issues. As they switch between mediums, from phones to computers, audio feedback delays and connection issues come about. Variation comes from the quality of the videos as the film cuts between the group participant views of the screen to solo participant views of the screen, and having the characters move the camera when the situation calls for it. The result is a movie that’s brimming with visual life despite being so limited in location and space.

Furthermore, there’s no score, because the movie is supposed to be a chronicle of a séance. But instead of silence, the soundscape is littered with bits of feedback and small creaks which manages to unsettle just as well as any compelling horror score. No noise or visual cue betrays the feeling of the movie which in turn makes the more grandiose moments feel satisfying, authentic, and unexpected.

Best of all, there’s no cheating with the use of awful glitch effects. Even the better found-footage horror movies like Hell House LLC tend to use cheap-feeling glitch effects where the camera presents a stream of static in an attempt to show the supernatural distorting things. It typically comes off as awful visual clutter that betrays the aesthetic of found-footage movies. Host completely avoids these issues because the practical stunts and effects are done so well that there’s no need to be afraid of showing the audience the horror.

However, the bursts of cinematic genius and narrative levity come to a close far too quickly. Many of the fleshier metaphysical ideas feel like they get truncated too quickly and consequently the depth present in each haunting is diminished. For example, the movie introduces the idea of personal totems that each character can use during the séance but makes very little use of it as the film goes on. Tying in some of the intense scary scenes with these more intimate character items would have helped give more definition to certain character arcs and relationship dynamics and made the supernatural subjectivity the film is trying to establish more apparent.

But in spite of these misses, Host is part of a select few found footage to evoke same sense of dread and unease that the The Blair Witch Project did at the turn of the century. By placing the narrative within the pandemic that many remains so fresh in many of our minds, it’s more easily able to get us to invest in the story and care about what happens to the characters because they’re like us: they’re trapped, forced to take responsibility for others, and susceptible to the smallest misstep from someone in their social group. It’s this empathetic identification that makes the sense of unease in Host so poignant and terrifying – a reminder of the shared horrors we’re still vulnerable to today.

REPORT CARD

TLDRHost is proof that budget matters less than the guts to commit to a vision and figure out the most effective way to demonstrate that vision with the tools available. Despite being made during quarantine and with a low budget, each member of the cast and crew came together to turn in a cohesive and well-oiled horror machine that looks and plays like a major horror blockbuster. There’s characters to cheer for, scares that get under the skin, and a story that’s easy to follow while remaining compelling to think about.
Rating8.7/10
GradeA

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

Review: Suspiria

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Director(s)Dario Argento
Principal CastJessica 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 Date1977
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

TLDRSuspiria 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
Rating10/10
GradeA+

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

Review: Hellraiser

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Director(s)Clive Barker
Principal CastClare 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 Date1987
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.

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This montage sequence tells the story of Hellraiser from a thematic level through some beautiful cross-cutting. The first image shows Julia (Clare Higgins) ripping out the head of another girl so she can focus on her former lover, Frank (Sean Chapman). As she remembers her infidelity, the sink bursts downstairs as Kirsty (Ashley Laurence) tries to use it, signifying the hidden way Frank has burst open the Cotton family (Image 2). Meanwhile the water fades to rain as Julia remembers her first time meeting Frank (Image 3). Their meeting becomes sexual as Frank caresses Julia’s lip awakening her desire to do actively take his fingers and do the same (Image 4 and 5). As he has sex with her in next image , his humps fade into his brothers grunting back and forth motion as the latter tries to move furniture up the stairs. As he snags his hand and starts bleeding (Image 7), the movie cuts to Julia sobbing at the state of her life and her fonder memories of Frank (Image 8). Larry (Andrew Robinson) comes up with his bloodied hand, demonstrating his weaker and less aggressive tendencies compared to his brother – giving his hand over to be mended over a flesh wound as opposed to stirring up romance on his partners lips (Image 9). In the last row, his blood is devoured by his brother beneath and the final image recounts Frank’s (Oliver Smith) new revival into the world of the living (Image 11).


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

TLDRHellraiser 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.”
Rating9.7/10
GradeA+

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2010s, 2018, A+, Fantasy, Grade, Horror, mystery, Past, Review, review-movie, supernatural, Thriller, Year

Review: Suspiria (2018)

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Director(s)Luca Guadagnino
Principal CastDakota Johnson as Susie Bannion
Mia Goth as Sara Simms
Tilda Swinton as Madame Blanc/Dr.Josef Klemperer/Mother Helena Markos
Angela Winkler as Miss Tanner
Elena Fokina as Olga
Chloë Grace Moretz as Patricia Hingleton
Jessica Harper as Anke Meier
Release Date2018
Language(s)English, German
Running Time 153 minutes

NOTE: Some of the images contained in the review contain nudity that are NSFW. Please leave the page if you are not of a legal age to view the same.

NOTE: To those readers who have still not watched Dario Argento’s Suspiria , this review will be making quite a few comparisons between the two given that this movie is a remake. While I personally do not think these spoilers amount to anything crucial (Argento’s movie operates on a poetic logic that has to be seen and heard to truly understand the magic), I find it important to mention the same. With that out of the way, Argento’s classic is considered by many fans to be one of the greatest horror movies of all time. Within the past year, I’ve found myself completely entranced with the visual beauty and absolutely wonderful use of music. It’s a movie I consider near and dear to my heart. Making a remake of such beloved entry would be tantamount to cinematic insult if it did not do something genuinely worthwhile. Thankfully, I think Guadagnino’s re-telling feels less like a remake and more like a fleshing out of the narratively barebones original. Instead of focusing on spectacle to keep the audience’s attention, this updated Suspiria operates on a heavy narrative and thematic level, developing every tiny detail from the original in a way that both pays respect to the cinematic behemoth, while being more than capable of dancing on its two feet.

The movie opens in Berlin during the height of the German Autumn, a historical period fraught with revolution, counterculture, and tense political relations. The president of the German Employee’s Association, a former Nazi, is kidnapped by the Red Army Faction, a West German youth protest/terrorist group, in an attempt to force the West German government to release RAF members. Amidst these scenes of violence and protest a young lady, Patricia, makes her way to Dr. Josef Klemperer’s office. In his office are books by Carl Jung, a famous psychoanalyst who talked frequently about collective myths and the ways they permeate through social activity and consciousness. Obviously perturbed, Patricia talks in a seemingly nonsensical fashion obviously upset. She rambles about a song playing that the Dr. cannot hear and starts talking about a conspiracy happening involving witches grooming students at the dance academy she attends for some nefarious purposes. As she speaks the violence from outside continues to rage on. Klemperer writes in his notes that Patricia’s delusions have taken more power, convinced that she’s delusional. Patricia leaves the session but not before informing the doctor that these witches won’t hesitate to “hollow [her] out and eat [her] cunt on a plate,” if they realize she attended this session.

Then the movie cuts to an farm house in Ohio. The song, Suspirium, by Thomas Yorke plays as different shots of the house are shown. The movie cuts to a poster on a wall that indicates that a “Mother is a woman who can take the place of all others but whose place no one else can take”.

The framed poster in the religious household has clear political and gender implications when framed in the context of the rest of the movie’s theme and story beats.

As the scene continues to play out, it’s clear that a death has happened and the raspy whisper like singing from Yorke gives the whole scene an ethereal feeling. This isn’t even taking into consideration the lyrics which ask questions about dancing, agency, metaphysical darkness, and Motherhood. The juxtaposition between the political and psychoanalytic session in Germany with this quieter and more ethereal scene about death and agency in a religious community form the lifeblood of the movie.

In just 8 minutes, it’s made clear that political tension, insurgent forces, witches, motherhood, the relation between the individual and their society, and psychoanalysis all play a key role in what’s to come. With the subtext firmly established, the movie cuts to Susie, a member of the religious community, leaving for a prestigious dance company in Berlin – the same one Patricia mentioned earlier. She makes her way to the entrance to the school, which is directly next to the Berlin wall , both to highlight the divided sociopolitical period the movie takes place in and to suggest that the school is as divided as the country at the time.

Susie (Dakota Johnson) walks towards the school which is located right next to the Berlin wall, a constant reminder of both the external political conflict at play and the power struggle going on within the school.


As soon as she comes into the school, she’s made to do an audition with no music. Given that she’s come to the school during an irregular time with no prior credentials she must earn her stay, according to one of the senior instructors, Miss Tanner. In what I can only describe as eerily beautiful, Susie dances as though possessed by something supernatural. Her power radiates in every single movement, reverberating through the school with such ferocity that even the main instructor, Madame Blanc, notices and makes her way to the audition room. It’s clear there’s something different about this student – a dancer with music permeating her very being even if nothing plays in the background. With her clear display of skill it’s a no brainer that she makes it into the dance company. But as Patricia noted earlier, there’s definitely something afoot. In fact, Patricia has now disappeared, giving Susie the chance to move into her room at the facility. This disappearance serves as the inciting incident for the supernatural journey to come and given Patricia’s eerie warnings from earlier, sets the stage for the horror that will unfold. What follows is a slow burn that carefully cooks together this mystery along with the subtext to deliver a truly powerful film that seeks to be a period piece, a supernatural horror mystery, a commentary on female agency, a meditation on politics and the way they develop at a micro and macro level, with a healthy heaping of dancing to go along to tie it all together.

To those of you expecting to see violence (it is a Suspiria remake after all), the movie delivers what I would argue are scenes that are just as brutal and disturbing as the original, eventually ending in a way that makes good on its genre classification as “horror”. Unlike the original movie, however, the characters who are brutalized and made the victims of such violence are ones that we as an audience spend a lot of time with, so each of these acts hits that much harder. These moments are more spread out during the run-time, but I’d argue that the pacing in between makes them all the more effective as a visceral phenomena that refuses to leave the mind after watching.

To say the movie is ambitious in what it’s trying to achieve is underselling just what a monumental feat Guadagnino is attempting to deliver. Are there some missteps? Sure. Sometimes the movie feels like its a bit like its preaching to the audience to make them aware of the intricacies being developed. I personally would have liked the movie to lean less in the general politics of Germany of the time given how small it ends up feeling when everything is said and done. That being said, for every overt thematic nod there’s multiple clever and and subtle developments that might slip your attention on the first watch. The movie is so dense that I think you actually have to watch it multiple times or you end up missing on a bunch of small details that end up meaning quite a lot. That’s an attention to detail that’s rare in movies nowadays, let alone horror movies.

The constant reminder of the external political struggles enveloping Germany contrasts the internal political machinations going on in the dance school. The German public’s attempt at forgiving having a Nazi in such an important political position causes us to question the legitimacy hierarchies , big and small. The death of the mother at the beginning with the declaration that the mother is a leader who’s universal and irreplaceable takes on a new meaning when applied in the context of all female school going through a political struggle of its own, one where a student fearful for her life disappears . This combined with the presence of a Jungian psychoanalysis makes the connection between the disparate elements clear – are the hierarchies between the religious family, the dance school, and the German government similar? Are they all just reducible and manifestations of the same general consciousness- or are they distinct? The distinctive mention of the Mother and the all-females nature of the school adds a gendered aspect to this idea that attempts to situate the subjective experience of women in relation to an overarching structure. This is why the movie is as long as it is. There’s no way to explore this much without spending the time to develop each idea in depth. Too little time and things would end up feeling half baked. Too much and details would feel pedantic. By and large I think the movie hits a sweet spot in between.

While Argento’s original movie makes use of bright and vibrant colors to make every frame feel like a piece of wall art, Guadagnino prefers a more muted color scheme to reinforce the “realistic” nature of the movie. It’s not that he’s trying to hide the supernatural happenings – an early scene clearly demonstrates that the Witches are more than willing to brutally kill those who are a threat to their community through spells performed through intricate dance techniques. Rather, the movie treats its supernatural happenings as grounded in reality. It’s an difficult balancing act to be a period piece in one hand and a fantasy thriller on the other, but the movie walks that line in a way where each element builds upon and reinforces the other in a natural and conducive way. The story emphasizes this feeling in its narrative structure. One half of the movie follows Susie trying to move up the ranks of the dance school, her motives unknown. All this time, it’s made apparent that the witches want something from her in the same vein that they wanted from Patricia. The other half of the movie follows Dr. Klemperer as he tries to investigate the disappearance of Patricia. Despite thinking she was suffering from delusions, he’s very much concerned with her wellbeing and tries to investigate the school in relation to her whereabouts, in his own ways grounded in reality. The former is a story about magic permeating the real world and exploding in key moments throughout it. The latter is a story of the real world’s attempts at explaining and investigating supernatural phenomena in cultural and psychoanalytic configurations to make sense of the same. The push and pull between these two halves of the story is what keeps it feeling wholly unique – both grounded in reality and heightened by fantasy.

This feeling is emphasized in the visual design of the movie both in:
A: its use of mirrors and reflective services to emphasize the ever changing nature of perspective and interconnectedness between seemingly disparate story elements

B: the presence of surreal and fleeting dream sequences which inject the story with a good old fashioned serving of “what the hell is that?” and “holy hell, that’s frightening.”

In the context of reflective surfaces, their presence is made fully aware to the audience early on. There are mirrors absolutely everywhere. The room the dancers use to practice is filled with mirrors from every side, reflecting the movement of the bodies and their respective gazes- their hidden desires. Some mirrors open up to reveal hidden pathways. Others operate like one-way see-through glass panes, reflecting a subject while allowing people on the other side to gaze upon them without detection. One of the most interesting uses of mirrors is reflecting the shifting power dynamic between the dancers. Early on, when Susie first moves into Patricia’s old room she meets Sarah, a kind girl who immediately welcomes her into the academy. Their conversation takes place in front of mirrors and shows their faces normal, happy. As the movie continues and key events come to light, the mirrors reflecting their conversation become blurred and muddy, reflecting their changes in point of view both of themselves and one another.

In the first row Susie (Dakota Johnson) and Sarah (Mia Goth) talk to each other openly and with openness to one another upon first meeting one another. Their reflections in the mirror show they have an open and honest understanding of the other. In the second row, their conversation is mirrored and distorted, reflecting their changing perspective based on access to new information. The power dynamic has shifted with the new angle.


As Madame Blanc tells Susie later on in a 1-on-1 dance session, “[p]art of the issue always is not being able to see your body in space. One angle in one mirror or on film is not enough. ” Given the movie’s goal in connecting the outer political struggle to internal mystery and power imbalance, the mirrors serve as a connective tissue that reveal the way events can be connected, even if not immediately apparent- an ever shifting balance of knowledge and power.

Likewise, the eerie and flashing dream sequences keep the audience on their toes by displaying series of images that aren’t immediately capable of being interpreted. These moments feature breathtaking shots and compositions that are visually unnerving and thematically hefty. In fact, I’d argue a lot of the more disturbing and horrifying images happen in these moments. As the scenes flicker past one another, some of them coming onto the screen for only brief moments, it’s clear that the we’re seeing both the past and the future events of the movie from a different point of view. No image is out of place, but they refuse an immediate categorization in exactly what they’re supposed to represent. They give impressions of what characters have gone through and what is to come, with barely a hint of what images fall into what category. Like the mirrors, the Truth can only be revealed once the different perspectives coalesce to present a more complete and developed picture.

  • Nude women siting in chair and pointing to shadow.
  • The shadow figure emanates from the sitting women.
This sequence appears in one of the dream montages. Is it a representation of Carl Jung’s theory of the shadow, the dark manifestation of a person’s unconsciousness? Like a reflection it represents an aspect of the self from a new angle, but which self is it? Simultaneously a representation of something inherent to the subject and the potential of something to come – the past, present, and future intertwine in the development of a subjects agency.


However, the biggest reason all these elements can come together in such a profound and seamless way is because every single actor -big or small- gives a knockout performance. If any of these performances didn’t nail the mark, the tightrope walking the movie does would threaten to fall in on itself. I could spend pages just talking about the small nuances that every one of these leading ladies bring to their roles, but I’ll try my best to condense the same. Starring as the lead, Dakota Johnson brings an eerie ferocity to her performance as Susie. She radiates power and confidence without ever giving away what her true motivations or goals are. Her face is resolute but imperceptible. She can switch from cold and apathetic to kind and nurturing at a snap. In contrast, Mia Goth’s portrayal of Sarah is absolutely filled with a warm and radiant kindness. From the way she coyly smiles to the way she shows concerns for her friends to the subtle ways she holds her decorum in the presence of unsettling realities, she absolutely holds up as a symbol of warmth. Her scenes with Johnson are my favorite because of how well the two actors play off one another, taking a friendship that was barebones in the original movie, and genuinely elevating it and imbuing with a real sense of affection that then permeates and gives the movie a resonant emotional feeling .

That being said, this is Tilda Swinton’s show as she plays three of the main characters with absolute perfection. It’s hard enough to deliver nuance in one character, but she manages to give three live to three totally different characters and breathe a nuance and characterization to them that would make you certain that it was not one person running the show. As Madame Blanc, the primary dance instructor at the institution, she radiates power and charisma. She’s a hero in the eyes of the dancers both for her skill and her dedication to promoting a female empowerment. Watching her cold exterior give way to genuine care when it comes to interacting with Dakota gives the character a healthy level of depth. Despite being under a heap of prosthetics in her portrayal of Dr. Klemperer, she gives the old and weary psychologist a profound tenderness and sense of vulnerability. From the way she quivers her lips to the way she shows pain in her eyes, it’s hard to imaging that it’s not an actual old man playing the character. His character is what injects a lot of the story beats with a genuine emotional somberness that threatens to bring the audience to tears at times. I went into the movie not knowing that it was her playing multiple roles and could not believe that she had managed to pull it off so effortlessly until reading about the movie later. Given the importance of the characters she plays and the incredible amount of differences between them, I have to emphasize just how superb she is.

Madame Blanc and Dr. Klemperer are both played by Tilda Swinton. At a first glance, you’d never know it’s the same actor but that speaks to the level of the performance (and the makeup/prosthetics department).


Suspiria (2018) does what any remake should aspire to do – take the source material, explore it in new and distinct ways, and do this all without destroying the beauty of what came before. The way the movie takes the smallest elements – witches, the tale of the 3 Mothers, the dance academy, dancing as an art form, secret conspiracies- and blows them all up front and center is a testament to every member from the screenwriters to the actors. This isn’t a movie that shies away from comparisons with Argento’s work of art. Instead it works as a another side of the coin- a different perspective on the seminal work of horror. From the ethereal and wispy score by Yorke which serves as a foil to Goblin’s original bombastic rock score to the subdued color pallet and shot composition which contrasts the neon Expressionism that came before, this is a movie that’s not afraid to be different. Do I think all fans of the original will enjoy this? No. There’s a reason the reaction to the movie has been so polarizing. But those who are willing to consider a mirrored perspective to the original movie might walk away with appreciation for just how far a new angle can take a story.

Report Card

TLDRSuspiria is one of the greatest remakes of all time , and that’s saying something given that it’s source material is considered, not just one of the greatest horror movies of all time, but a genuine masterpiece of cinema. The grounded story of witches based in Germany during the tumultuous German Autumn feels like a story that shouldn’t work, but the work put in by everyone from the screenwriters to the actors to the production staff is top notch and breathes life into this nuanced and fleshed out take on the original barebones story. Every small element from the original is pushed to new levels , both narratively and thematically, and watching the intersection of all the ideas coalesce is a treat to behold. This isn’t a movie for everybody. If you don’t like slow burn movies that take their time ramping up, you’re going to be disappointed. Likewise, if you’re coming in expecting an audio-visual treat on the level of Argento’s masterpiece you’re barking up the wrong tree. This movie should be seen as another side of the coin to the original. Where the original movie excelled in presenting breathtaking compositions bathed in neon colors, it’s definitely light on the story which is more so used as an excuse to present a stunning experience. This movie is far more focused on the narrative and fleshing it out in a way that gives it a meaningful heft that you’ll have to gnaw at over multiple viewings. If that sounds like something you
Rating9.9/10
GradeA+

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2000s, 2009, A+, Art House, Drama, Grade, Horror, Past, psychological, Review, review-movie, supernatural, Year

Film Review: Antichrist – 2009

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Director(s)Lars von Trier
Principal CastWillem Dafoe as Him
Charlotte Gainsbourg as Her
Release Date2009
Language(s)English
Running Time 108 minutes

Beautiful black and white compositions envelop the screen. An operatic musical theme, Lascia ch’io pianga, plays in the background. A couple played by Dafoe and Gainsburg make passionate love, genitals on full display. A moment of vitality. A moment of life. Unknown to them, their child leaves his crib. He wanders off towards to a work desk upon which three figures sit. These are the three beggars that will make up and divide the progression of the movie into its chapters: grief, pain, and suffering. The movie cross cuts between the images of the parents in the throes of sexual passion – their faces matched to similar expressions by their son as he climbs up onto the windowsill above the desk and makes the plunge below.

Child with his head back as he falls from window.
She with her head back during sex.
Child falling forward out of the window .
Him thrusting forward during sex.
In the first row the child’s head falling back matches his mother (Charlotte Gainsbourg) who pushes her head back. In the second row the child the child falls forward in a vein similar to his father (Willem Dafoe) who thrusts forward during sex. The cross cutting between these scenes along with the matches in the position of the child with respect to his immanent death and the parents position with respect to their sexual encounter sets the stage for the juxtaposition of Good vs. Evil and the subsequent discussion of the problem of evil.

A moment of death during a moment of happiness. Good and bad juxtaposed against one another. Are they independent of one another or does the presence of one necessitate the other? This attempt to find meaning in the face of such pain serves as the thematic thrust that moves the story along as the couple attempts to deal with their newfound loss.

The nameless couple grieves for the loss of their son as the movie turns from black and white to a muted color palette that reflects the loss of light in their life. The formalistic compositions give way to a handheld camera that reflects this newfound chaotic injection. The male, an agent of rationality, sees the events as separate and attempts to systematize the chaotic turbulence he and his wife are experiencing. The death of their son is a tragedy , but is not the end of the world. The female, an agent of emotion, sees the events as inextricably tied to each other and struggles to understand how such evil can happen in a world. How can a child be lost so easily? While He gets over the death fairly quickly his wife slips into a state of depressive anxiety. She experiences twitching eyes, dryness in her throats, a reining in the ears, sweating on her neck, and shaking in her fingers. As the physical manifestations of her suffering wreak havoc on her body her husband reminds her that she’s not going through anything metaphysical. It’s all just a physical response to an event. It’s rooted in the naturalistic world of science and as such should be codified through the symbolic registers of psychology. His attempts at help can be read as heartfelt attempts at helping his partner. They can also be read as an misogynistic attempt at controlling her behavior as he dictates what she “really thinks” and really feels, ignoring her feelings in favor of his own interpretations.

She (Charlotte Gainsbourg) experiences an anxiety attack and is put off by the strong physicals response to her suffering. Her husband quickly codes the images of her suffering as just symptoms of anxiety, casting aside the pain as a natural medical phenomenon in an attempt to explain it.


The movie even reflects this feeling early on when he convinces her to stop receiving care from a hospital in lieu of engaging in therapy with him. He is after all a psychologist who’s better than any doctors. How could he not know his own wife better than trained professionals? The film breaks the 180 rule (maintain the spatial placement of actors and the direction they’re facing) by having him occupy the space his wife is in, demonstrating that he’s taking charge of the situation. It reflects the way her agency is placed to the wayside as she’s made to reflect the desire and whims of her partner. This battle for agency, for determining who’s view of the world is correct, becomes the backdrop the movie plays on.

This breaking of the 180 degree rule demonstrates the power struggle at play. He (Willem Dafoe) literally takes her (Charlotte Gainsbourg) subject position as he explains to her why the doctors she’s currently seeing in the hospital aren’t good at enough at taking care of her. He subsumes her agency and makes the decision for Her in relation to what her future care will look like.

In an attempt to get her back to normal, he decides to take the two of them to their cabin located in woods, aptly titled Eden. In the Bible, Adam and Eve, a he and she, are cast aside from the forest for eating the fruit of knowledge and to prevent them from eating the fruit of life. In this tale, he and she, go to the forest to confront an irrationality concerning an cruel death. A paradise for the progenitors who are supposed to be ignorant becomes the destination for healing a similar couple through the power of knowledge. With a title like Antichrist, it’s hard not to come into the movie thinking it will be about faith and religion, but that thought quickly gives way as it becomes clear that the movie is Von Trier’s response to the problem of Evil.

How can evil exist in a world where God is the creator? How could a good and righteous entity focused on the preservation of peaceful bliss allow chaos to reign. This is alternative theology, enacted by two nameless characters who serve as a stand in for men and women in general, that plays like an inversion and deconstruction of the tale of Genesis. The three beggars parallel the three wise men. He is a stand- in for Adam. She is a stand-in for Eve. Eden is a place of fear as opposed to a paradise. The religious background and connections are never made explicit but merely serve as the thematic heft that makes the story progress from beat to beat. The psychological violence He hurls at Her at the beginning in his attempts to psychoanalyze her are met with her similar physical attempts at violence in the latter half of this movie. Speaking of which, if the dying baby at the start didn’t give it away, the movie goes to some fairly dark and depressing places and that’s reflected in some intense and brutal scenes of violence. However, given the progression and beats the story delves into this violence is necessary and though its depiction is graphic, it never comes off feeling gratuitous or without a purpose.

The main conflict between the He and She reminds me of the main couples’ dilemma from Nicolas Roeg’s Don’t Look Now (rationalism vs affective connection in the face of a child’s death) combined with the couple from Andrzej Żuławski’s Possession (metaphysical tug of war for control in the relationship). Like both of those movies, the performances from the main actors are astounding with both of them clearly giving 110%. Dafoe is unrelenting in his attempts at maintain control of the situation but plays it off in a way that feels understandable . There are misogynic tones if you read into the way he acts, but at a surface level glance his actions feel relatable to an extent. The balancing act to simultaneously be an asshole but not deplorable is a tough one one to find, but he somehow manages to deliver it. Gainsbourg absolutely channels a shrieking devastation going from riddled with anxiety and being panicked to becoming strangely unnerving and unhinged as the movie progresses to its natural conclusion. Her emotional intensity provides a sharp contrast with Dafoe’s and helps clearly delineate the couple’s thoughts and subsequent actions. Some of the actions she takes in the latter portion of the movie might feel overblown but feel authentic due to her precision and execution. Together they infuse the movie with the emotional energy it needs to hit the devastating punches it delivers to the audience.

Likewise the cinematography by Anthony Dod Mantle and musical choices by Kristian Eidnes Andersen give the movie a texture that lets it ooze out a palpable discomfort. Mantle deftly switches from handheld during the realistic and grounded scenes to a steady and formalistic style during the surreal and dreamlike sequences. Going from the character’s talking to one another to their respective headspaces creates a poignant whiplash that keeps audiences on their toes while providing a visual splendor that feels revolting giving what’s going on. This movie makes the death of a child look beautiful and if that’s not saying something I don’t know what is. Andersen provides less of a score and more of an impressionistic musical accompaniment to the visuals. Outside of the operatic theme that plays during the beginning and ending of the movie, there’s less of a discernible score and more of a rhythmic feeling that amplifies the disturbing visuals on display. Never does this use of music overwhelm the scene. Instead, it operates in the background like wallpaper for the ears, giving the movie an auditory texture that keeps it flowing.

Antichrist isn’t a movie for everybody. It’s dark and goes to emotional places that won’t leave you in the most pleasant place after the viewing experience. The psychological beatings from the first half will make those who have been victims of gaslighting feel a certain kind of way. The physical violence from the second half will certainly induce a squeamish anxiety that will refuse to settle. However, those who are willing to endure the provocations will find a moving and thought provoking look into humanity, it’s place in the world, and the species attempts at finding meaning in a chaotic and unforgiving world.

Report Card

TLDRAntichrist is my favorite horror movie of the 2000’s decade (2000- 2009) for good reason. The dark and unsettling tale plays like a response to the classical philosophical problem o f evil – how can God be reconciled in a world where evil and chaos seem to strike at every opportunity? How can evil can strike at the most peaceful of times ? The death of a child cut against the lovemaking session of the child’s parents set the question in motion and watching the grieving couple navigate the labyrinth of meaning to find an answer is something that has to be experienced. The performances by the unnamed leads are emotionally resonant and each actor brings their A game to this alternative theology. If you can stomach some graphic violence and enjoy movies with arthouse proclivities, strap in for this one of a kind ride.
Rating10/10
GradeA+

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1970s, 1973, A+, Grade, Horror, mystery, Past, psychological, Review, review-movie, supernatural, Thriller, Year

Review: Don’t Look Now

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Director(s)Nicolas Roeg
Principal CastJulie Christie as Laura
Donald Sutherland as John
Sharon Williams as Christine
Nicholas Salter as Johnny
Hilary Mason as Heather
Clelia Matania as Wendy
Massimo Serato as Bishop Barbarrigo
Renato Scarpa as Inspector Longhi
Release Date1973
Language(s)English
Running Time 110 minutes

A little girl, Christine, runs along in her shiny red raincoat, playing with a ball near an ominous looking lake. Her brother, Johnny, who’s biking near her, runs over a glass surface and breaks it. An unlucky omen. Their father, John, turns in his seat, almost as if aware of the disturbance despite being firmly positioned in his house. Johnny looks at his bike, attempting to figure out the damage done to it. He looks back and sees his little sister in the background, clearly visible next to the lake.

Johnny looking back on his sister, ensuring that we , the audience, are aware that she’s present but far away and precariously close to the body of water.

Christine tosses her ball up and the movie cuts to John tossing his wife, Laura, a pack of cigarettes. Christine’s ball drops into the pond creating a splash and the movie cuts back to John as he spills a glass of water over a slide he’s looking at.

The slide John is looking at before he spills water over it. it depicts a short figure clad in a shiny red raincoat sitting in a Church.

Psychic connections and shared actions. An insert of the ball floating without Christine. Her missing presence tells us all we need to know before the movie cuts back to John looking at the damaged slide.

The slide once hit with water starts to bleed color, as a running red trail develops and starts to flow from the little red figure.

The slide which up to this point depicted a small figure adorned in a shiny red raincoat transforms into a bloody mess, as the water spreads the red color around like a pool of blood. John moves towards the outside, as though he knows something awful has transpired. Laura picks up the slide, takes a quick look, and tosses it on the couch seat next to her. A quick cut of Christine’s unmoving body in the water is followed by Johnny running to get his father.

Christine’s body floating limp in the body of water.

It’s clear what’s coming, but it doesn’t make it any easier to watch.  As John jumps into water the movie constantly cuts between him howling in pain, holding his daughter’s corpse and the slide, whose red color continues to expand. The music is daunting and ominous until suddenly an uplifting melody plays. At this moment, the slide transforms once more as the red flow of water becomes a rainbow of colors, almost like a beam of light through a prism.

The slide almost fully covered in the water and its effects. The figure is blurred out of sight. Only the colors it provides remain, but the red has transformed into a spectrum of colors . The base image has been fully transformed through the water “bending” the initial image.

 John gets out of the water and tries to resuscitate Christine, but it’s far too late to do anything for her as she is. Mustering the last bit of strength in his body, he moves towards the house, barely coherent as his face contorts in pain. Laura sees him coming the window holding their dead daughter and screams. This scream transforms into the sound of a drill as the movie cuts to the couple in Italy, the main location for the rest of the movie, and the place where the couple’s respective journey to deal with the pain of their loss starts.

This almost 8-minute opening perfectly encapsulates everything that makes up Roeg’s masterpiece, Don’t Look Now. It’s a story about grief, hardship, and suffering. That much is obvious from the drawn out and emotionally devastating depiction of Christine’s death and her parents’ subsequent responses. The use of both visual and auditory match-cuts reinforces the psychic relationships between seemingly unrelated events and the way that aspects of life can bleed into and affect one another. The visual representation of the transforming slide highlights the way perspective and time can alter the way images are perceived. At first, it’s a plain image that John looks at curiously – the object of interest not immediately understood by the audience. Then the small red figure transforms into a blood spiral. A premonition of the violence to come. But interestingly enough, Roeg doesn’t stop here. He lingers on the slide until the blood red flow transforms into a shining rainbow. This combined with the uplifting melody that plays immediately before it suggests that the image can be read in another way. In another light. A refraction of sorts. Almost like truth is perspectival and something that can’t be ascertained in the moment. This is confirmed by the final match cut, this time auditory as opposed to visual, which transforms Laura’s scream into the sound of a drill being used at John’s new place of employment.  Now it’s impressive enough that this level of seamless editing and visual and auditory storytelling could be sustained in such a cohesive manner for 8 minutes.

However, what makes this movie a true cinematic tour-de-force is that it continues to expand and build upon all these of these ideas for the rest of the near 2-hour run-time in a similar fashion. The movie never lets up in its use of immaculate cross-cutting to constantly reinforce the idea that life is an accumulation of elements that circle around one another in a series of interpretations and re-interpretations. The early motifs involving water, reflections, refractions, duplicate images, and psychic connections are all pushed to their poetic limits to create a finely tuned tale that constantly subverts your expectations in the best way possible. Through its use of consistent visual motifs, the movie manages to use flashbacks and flashforwards in ways that feel integrated into the very essence of the narrative. A body of water transforms into rain which transforms into grey colored eyes, connecting fragments of the story happening at different times and in different places. Nothing feels out of place because the “place” you’re watching is constantly transforming before your eyes. Just like the slide, the end goal/image can only be understood by watching the story’s full progression up to that point and even that understanding is open to interpretation.

At the heart of the story is the tale of a couple desperately trying to communicate with another and recover from the grief and emotional devastation caused by the loss of their child. John’s new job involves moving to Italy for a while as he helps to renovate an old dilapidated Church. While having lunch with Laura, he runs into Heather and Wendy, two sisters who seem to show a heavy interest in the grieving couple. The former, who happens to be blind, claims that she’s a psychic who can see the spirit of Christine. She tells Laura that her daughter is happy and “with” the couple. This affirmation in some kind of spiritual afterlife along with the image of her happy daughter brings Laura out of her depressive state. She wholeheartedly puts her faith in the two strangers and their proclamations and finds a newfound energy that gives her back a sense of meaning. When she mentions this to John, the latter scoffs at it as foolish and quite literally walks his own path away from Laura. He refuses to entertain the idea that his daughter could still be “there” and closes himself off more.

  • Laura attempts to persuade John to give the sisters a shot so that he can begin to heal like her.
  • John literally pushes Laura away and tells her to go on her own path as he walks down a perpendicular street away from her.
John and Laura in front of entry/exit attempting to communicate and find a way past their grief. It ends with John going one way as Laura goes the other, reflecting the way perspective (rationality vs affective sensibility) drastically affect the actions we take.

This sharp contrast between the two exemplifies the subjective nature of responding to grief and how being open versus being closed can lead to radically different conclusions and actions. Throughout the movie, John continues to be closed, suspicious, and unable to openly say what he wants to say. This is a characteristic that’s demonstrated by all the men in the movie from his employer, Bishop Barbarrigo to a police inspector, Longhi.  On the other hand, all the women in the movie are open and cordial with one another, operating with good faith with respect to one another. As the plot progresses and interactions between different sets of characters occur, the effects of one’s predisposition towards possibility and openness become far more pronounced. Male to male communication scenes are awkward and cold. Women to women communication scenes are open and receptive. Added to this jumble is Roeg’s genius decision to not include subtitles for any of the Italian spoken in the movie. That’s right. A movie set in Italy, with only a few English-speaking characters, has no subtitles for what the majority of the background characters have to say. There are multiple scenes of John communicating with town folk in Italian and it’s impossible to determine if he’s actually saying something meaningful or just getting confused. The lack of subtitles also amplifies the uneasiness we feel, because like John, every interaction is an “unknown.” This means that we, the audience, have to make a determination on what characters intentions and actions really entail. Like John, we can be suspicious and read the situations with a cold rationality. Or like Laura, we can read the situations with an intuitive and affective sensibility.

Of course this level of emotional resonance would only be possible if the actors involved were capable of bringing a wide range of affective reactions to the situations that unfold. The way Donald Sutherland expresses his grief in early scenes and rage in later scenes is not only wholeheartedly believe but emotionally devastating. It hurts to watch him suffer and anguish in the guilt he feels over Christine’s death. Serving as a counterbalance of sorts, Julie Christy brings a genuine sense of life and and joy into the scenes she’s in. From the way her smile lights up in her eyes as she plays with children in a hospital to the jovial enthusiasm she exhibits while talking to the sisters, she becomes a beacon of hope in an otherwise dour and depressing movie. Hilary Mason’s performance as the movie’s “psychic” is what brings Sutherland and Chrisy’s range together as her depiction of psychic happenings simultaneously feel staged and genuine. The way she contorts , moves, and emotes during these moments feel overtly theatrical and I remember thinking her character was full of it during some scenes and incredibly trustworthy in others. It’s her duality that allows the interpretative schema that underpins the stories logic, narrative, and position respective to the audience to work out. Without all 3 actors nailing their scenes, the attempt at placing the audience in the position of following John versus following Laura , of following cold rationality versus open affectivity, would fail. It’s all about opening up the scene to interpretations.

Things are never what they really seem and becoming steadfast in one perspective destroys the possibility of seeing things through other perspectives. The best part? The movie ends in the same way it began- an immaculate set of cross and match cuts that tie all the strands of the story and themes together in a way that still leaves things up to interpretation. Even after multiple re-watches of this movie, I can honestly say I don’t have it all worked out, but that’s the point. If I did, I wouldn’t have as much watching the movie over and over again.

Report Card

TLDRDon’t Look Now is one of the best edited movies of all time and manages to make every cut and transition matter. The way the narrative plays with time and perception through its innovative motifs – reflections, refractions, and duplications -is something in a league of its own and transforms this tale of grief, despair, and recovery an impressionistic masterpiece that one needs to experience to believe. If you love movies, you owe it to yourself to watch this one. If you’re a horror fan, that goes doubly for you. There’s rarely a movie that so masterfully combines all of its elements to create a narrative that simultaneously ties up every loose end while leaving them open.
Rating10/10
GradeA+

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1970s, 1979, A+, Grade, Horror, monster, Past, Review, review-movie, Science Fiction, science fiction horror, Thriller, Year

Review: Alien

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Two sides of the same coin- Jones and the Xenomorph are different instantiations of a predator- docile and known versus violent and deviant

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

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

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

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

Report Card

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

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2010s, 2017, C+, Grade, Horror, mystery, Past, Review, review-movie, supernatural, Thriller, Year

Film Review: Annabelle: Creation

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Director(s)David F. Sandberg
Principal CastTalitha Bateman as Janice
Lulu Wilson as Linda
Stephanie Sigman as Sister Charlotte
Anthony LaPaglia as Samuel Mullins
Release Date2017
Language(s)English
Running Time 110 minutes
Sketches for the Annabelle doll.
The Annabelle doll takes center frame as Samuel (Anthony LaPaglia) makes its other body parts.
Samuel brands the doll’s box.
Esther (Miranda Otto) and Samuel (Anthony LaPaglia) tickle Annabelle (Samara Lee).
The Annabelle doll starts innocent enough as a toy. It’s creator lives a happy life with his family and everything seems right.

A man begins to create the infamous “Annabelle” doll introduced in The Conjuring. He gets to work crafting the different parts of the toy; its hollow face takes center frame as it waits to be filled in and made whole. The finished doll is put into a box which the dollmaker, Samuel Mullins (Anthony LaPaglia), brands with his seal.

As he finishes, a note is slipped underneath his workroom’s door: “Find me.” Samuel gives chase; the note marks the start of a hide-and-seek game with his daughter, Annabelle (Samara Lee). He finds the young girl and promptly showers her with affection along with his wife, Esther (Miranda Otto). The loving parents dote on their daughter; the Mullins family is whole and their residence radiates with warmth.

The camera rotates and sweeps around the church…
…to reveal the Mullins family.
The family waits on the road as their vehicle stalls out.
Annabelle’s doll lays broken on the road.
The title card is branded in with flames.
The story moves 12 years forward – Annabelle’s gravesite becomes a threshold.
But things turn for the worse very quick. The camera whips and flips around a church to signify the changing fates. Annabelle is brutally killed and the joyous mood collapses. The childlike innocence of the doll is broken in as the title card is “branded” in. The tragic site becomes the cursed threshold the orphans cross.

But these happy times are doomed to come to an end. The camera whips and flips around a church signifying the shift in fates while the family makes their way out of the service. On their way back home, their car stalls out and the trio waits on the road; something awful is about to happen.

A car approaches in the background. We notice it creeping in. Esther calls attention to the vehicle. The horrific realization of what’s to happen begins to dawn. Yet, when Annabelle runs in front of the car to retrieve a stray bolt and is promptly killed, the shock is all the same. Her broken doll occupies the frame: innocence has been destroyed. The title card is “branded” in with flames; the seeds of this horror story have now been sown. Then, the film cuts to 12 years later on a view of Annabelle’s grave-marker, and a bus of young orphaned girls passes by on route to the Mullins residence. Their crossing of the tragic threshold signifies the something sinister approaches them as well.

Janice and Linda hold onto their dolls.
Janice (Talitha Bateman) uses the stair-helper.
Janice (Talitha Bateman) is framed against the hellish glass-paned balcony.
Janice (Talitha Bateman) sits by the stairs as Annabelle (Samara Lee) stands in the background.
Janice and Linda’s invocation of the dolls draws a harrowing connection given Annabelle’s death and the nature of the demonic entity we’re familiar with. This feeling is confirmed as Janice explores the house. She enters an evil domain where what seems to be the spirit of the deceased Annabelle waits for her in the looming darkness.

However, the girls inside the vehicle are none the wiser to the horrors that await. They’ve struggled to find a place to stay while waiting to be adopted and the group’s caretaker, Sister Charlotte (Stephanie Sigman) sees the invitation from the Mullins to stay as a blessing from God. Meanwhile, a duo within the girls, Janice (Talitha Bateman) and Linda (Lulu Wilson), sit with their own dolls closely in hand, hopeful that the Mullins residence is just a stop on the road to their dream of being adopted together by a nice family.

They make their way into the residence and director David F. Sandberg gives us a tour of the abode in a James Wan-esque one-shot that sees the girls traverse their newfound home. At the end of the house tour, Janice gets into a stair-helper machine meant to help her manage her polio-related mobility issues and get around the house. Excitedly, she gets onto the machine and heads up the stairs to explore her new environment.

But as the camera pans from a hellish red-stained glass balcony that envelops the frame to reveal Janice emerging from the end of the structure, it’s clear her journey is going to evil places. The next shot confirms as much as a young girl that looks like the deceased Annabelle shows up in the looming dark space to the right of Janice which threatens to envelop her.

Far from being a godsend, the Mullins residence is a malevolent location fraught with demonic forces that seek Janice out from the outset. It’s from this backdrop that Sandberg and writer Gary Dauberman seek to not only explain how the Annabelle doll came to be within the larger context of the The Conjuring franchise while making sense of the convoluted logic of the previous franchise entry, Annabelle (also written by Dauberman), that attempted to do the same but also tell Janice and company’s story in a compelling manner in its own rite. Juggling one film is difficult enough but course correcting a former entry while maintaining a tonal consistency with it is a whole other task, and Creation deserves praise for mostly succeeding in its efforts.

The film improves upon its predecessors failures in two distinct fashions: first, it engenders a sense of goodwill towards its protagonist, Janice, by showcasing her personal struggles and developing her interactions with other characters to make her feel sympathetic; second, it streamlines the narrative to focus on Janice and her personal battle to furnish faith in a seemingly desolate world instead of trying to posture and tack on additional overarching, possibly conflicting thematic ideations.

By keeping the narrative and thematic throughlines easy to keep track of, the film is able to bracket its more generic supernatural set-pieces around a story that’s emotionally compelling enough to hold interest; simple parallels serve as markers that make tracking Janice’s journey through the otherwise contrived horror trappings easy to comprehend. Her friendship with Linda serves as a counterpoint to the potential possession by the Annabelle-like specter; one girl represents a path towards a fantasy while the other gestures towards nightmares. This dichotomy is extended through the presence of the film’s different dolls. Both girls have their own more innocent dolls and see them as extensions of one another. These figures represent a faith in a future where they’re together in the same home. Meanwhile, the Annabelle doll represents an evil that seeks to take refuge within, making a home out of its victim – an inversion of the idyllic dream shared by the girls.

However, the film does stumble occasionally when it shifts focus to the other girls – far less interesting characters who serve as little more than reminders of Janice’s alienation. Their segments create moments of temporary visceral engagement that leave little lasting impact, especially in the context of what the film sets out to do; the constant barrage of them, especially in relation to such tangential characters, end up raising questions regarding why the demonic forces present have not swiftly dealt with whatever they needed. When we see the evil entities wreak obscene havoc in spite of safeguards, it becomes hard to ignore when it then then pulls punches and leaves like the most obnoxious “practical joker” after getting a reaction. Cutting out these bloated sections would help the narrative maintain its momentum and avoid undermining the tension generated by the supernatural set-pieces related to Janice’s story.

Thus, while Creation is a step up from its predecessor and does a much better job at establishing the foundation for the Annabelle doll, it never becomes greater than the sum of its parts – a shame given Sandberg’s competence at building the set-pieces proper.

REPORT CARD

TLDRAnnabelle: Creation, sees Director David Sandberg tasked with righting the mythos surrounding the Conjuring franchise’s Annabelle doll. While he manages to establish a background story that works, both as explanatory mechanism and narrative in its own right, the constant barrage of temporarily upsetting but overall unmemorable horror set-pieces drag the better parts of the movie down. It’s competently put together and features performances that will get viewers to care, but it’s a disappointment given the skill hinted at.
Rating7.3/10
GradeC+

Go to Page 2  for the spoiler discussion and more in-depth analysis.
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