A doe drinks water. A P.O.V shot of the doe. The doe is taken out by a hunter. Bella’s identification with the woodland creature led to slaughter sets the stage for what’s to come.
The film opens on two stories that intertwine, that of a young woman and that of a doe. While the doe drinks from a stream, the young woman, Bella (Kristen Stewart), notes that while she’s never given death much of a thought, dying in the place of a loved one wouldn’t be a bad way to go. Suddenly, the doe notices that its peaceful drinking area is no longer safe. We cut to a point-of-view shot – a a human-shaped hunter has appeared and death is staring the woodland creature down. Though it tries to run, the incredibly fast hunter catches it. Death has come.
The connection between the two tales is apparent: both feature a creature facing an inevitable end. If the doe is a stand-in for Bella, which loved one is it dying in the place of? If Bella is fated to be like the doe, then what exactly is hunting her? This deadly juxtaposition sets the tone for what’s to come. Bright light fills the screen and we’re transported from the woods to the deserts of Phoenix.
Arid deserts. Wet mountains. Bella’s move sees her traversing vastly different landscapes, moving from the arid deserts of Arizona to the wet, cold mountains of Washington.
Bella begins to narrate again, describing the journey leading up to her confrontation with death. She explains that her mother is planning on going on the road with a new partner. As a result, Bella’s moving from sunny Phoenix, Arizona to cloudy, rainy Forks, Washington to stay with her father, Charlie (Billy Burke), the police chief of the town.
However, just because her new environment is cold and unappealing doesn’t mean that the people inhabiting it are; Bella finds herself immediately accepted by the townsfolk. Her father’s peers fondly remember her from childhood visits and her fellow classmates at school, especially the young men, are desperate to make acquaintances with a newfound person; Forks is a small town with a sparse population so new faces are rare.
The Cullens from left to right: Jasper (Jackson Rathbone), Alice (Ashley Greene), Emmett (Kellan Lutz), Rosalie (Nikki Reed), Edward( Robert Pattinson). Bella (Kristen Stewart) looks at Edward. Edward (Robert Pattinson) stares at Bella. Bella’s move to Forks is marked by her encounter with the Cullens. The family radiates an ethereal beauty but seems to want nothing to do with her. Yet, she finds herself drawn to them, Edward in particular.
But the Cullens, a family of five adopted siblings, each with immaculate good looks and pale skin, ignores Bella, giving her a cold shoulder. The lack of attention provokes an interest; Bella is immediately entranced by the one member of the family, Edward (Robert Pattinson), who seems equally interested in her.
The fan blows Bella’s (Kristen Stewart) scent towards Edward. Edward (Robert Pattinson) covers his face in response. Bella (Kristen Stewart) smells herself in response to Edward’s (Robert Pattison) seemingly negative reaction. Edward seems to want nothing to do with Bella, going so far as to express visible pain upon smelling her scent. His repulsion gets to Bella and causes her to question what she’s done to set him off.
Yet, it appears that his interest is one rooted in antagonism. As Bella makes her way into biology, the fan at the front of the room blows against her. Edward visibly grabs his face, gagging in response to Bella’s scent. The tension becomes worse after the teacher has Bella sit next to Edward to serve as his lab partner. His disgusted facial reactions prompt Bella to check her own body odor. Far from wanting to be her friend, Edward seems offended by her very presence.
After class he leaves to go to the front office in an attempt to get switched out of Bella’s class but is informed that there are no other vacancies. The severe rejection boggles Bella; she can’t fathom why Edward seems so desperate to avoid her. Her suspicions only grow after Edward skips school for a few days. Would he really skip out just to avoid having to deal with her in any capacity?
Bella (Kristen Stewart) can’t stop thinking about……Edward’s (Robert Pattinson) brooding gaze. Edward occupies Bella’s (Kristen Stewart) thoughts at all times. Bella (Kristen Stewart) ignores her friends to focus on Edward and the Cullens. The film demonstrates the beginnings of Bella’s obsession with Edward with a simple cut. His brooding gaze is all she can think about and stays with her through the upcoming days. She can’t get Edward out of her head.
In spite of this, Edward comes to occupy Bella’s thoughts. She can’t get him out of his head and his increasingly erratic decisions only causes her to become more obsessed with what’s provoking such a strong response from him. Instead of hanging out with newfound friends who seem genuinely interested in her, Bella becomes determined to figure out the mystery behind Edward, a mystery that only becomes more confusing as Edward decides to randomly warm up to her after the cold introduction.
Her search and the implications behind what she discovers bifurcates the film into two neat halves; the first half follows Bella as she unravels Edward’s secrets and grows to fall in love with him, and the second half follows her as she deals with the consequences of her discoveries, both of Edward and of her feelings.
Bella’s journey is presented primarily from her point-of-view; she’s constantly narrating her inner thoughts and the film often cuts to her dreams and subjective visions. This helps ground the more melodramatic moments of her journey; the rush to die for love is a sentiment that exists as extremity but in the context of a young woman’s first romantic encounter, the melodramatic intensity of every related moment is understandable. The story’s supernatural backdrop only accentuates these moments, giving the emotional intensity Bella’s going through a fitting real-world analog to deal with.
Unfortunately, the film doesn’t meld these layers cohesively against one another during the visceral moments. Inconsistent and comic visual effects undercut the severity of the supernatural forces encroaching Bella’s life. It’s hard to take threats seriously when the effects render what should be a threatening situation into a comedic one. Consequently, the melodramatic nature of the young couple’s feelings for one another feels more absurd than it does heightened.
Furthermore, the acting by the leads often feels discordant with the emotions that their characters are trying to hint at. This is partially a problem that stems from the script which adapts most of the book’s dialogue, dialogue which very few actors could possibly render in cohesive let alone great fashion, but it definitely would have helped if some of the facial expressions matched up with the intention behind the dialogue.
In spite of this, Twilight never feels like its settling or meandering. Even when the film swings and misses in stellar fashion, the attempt can be appreciated. The fantasy the movie provides and takes Bella through can be comprehended even though it’s not nearly as appealing as Bella makes it out to be.
REPORT CARD
TLDR
Twilight’s tale of intense passions and supernatural romance may be overbearing at times, but the enthusiasm by which it approaches its subject matter makes it more than endearing. Though some of the visual and acting choices don’t land, the intent behind the fantasy of the story is comprehensible and fans of it will be more than satisfied with the offering.
Rating
7.2/10
Grade
C+
Go to Page 2 for the spoiler discussion and more in-depth analysis. Go to Page 3to view this review’s progress report .
Ryan Reynolds as Michael Bryce Samuel L. Jackson as Darius Kincaid Élodie Yung as Amelia Roussel Gary Oldman as Vladislav Dukhovich Salma Hayek as Sonia Kincaid
A photo of Amelia (Élodie Yung) and suits. Michael gets weapons. Michael (Ryan Gosling) says goodbye to Kurosawa. Kurosawa (Tsuwayuki Saotome) gets shot. Michael is a man of order and regimen. He goes through his daily schedule and sets out for a day at work like any other. He secures his client and escorts them to safety only to lose them at the very last moment to a surprise bullet.
The film opens with a series of split-screen shots depicting the routine of Michael (Ryan Reynolds), a private bodyguard for the wealthy and powerful. He puts on his watch, picks out a suit from his collection, drinks some coffee, gets his weapons, and kisses his partner, Amelia (Élodie Yung) on the cheek before departing his scenic abode. The split-screen shots demonstrate the rigid order he lives his life by; every moment is part of an elaborately planned sequence.
He picks up his client, Takashi (Tsuwayuki Saotome) and proceeds on pace for a secure delivery. Takashi gets on his plane and Michael waves him off with a smile. But right as the plane is about to depart, Takashi is shot and murdered.
Michael (Ryan Gosling) is in shock. 2 years pass. Michael (Ryan Gosling) is still in shock. Michael’s failure haunts him 2 years later; he’s still in shock that his client died.
Despite all precautions, Michael finds himself with a client down; he’s in shock. While his men run around him to take hold of the situation, Michael stares dumbfounded, unable to come to terms with his failure. Two years pass and his expression remains the same – the weight of his past remains. He escorts an drug-addled client in dejected fashion; clearly he’s still good at his job, but the loss of a client has certainly hurt his reputation as security detail, so he’s forced to take on much worse clientele.
Michael (Ryan Gosling) agrees to Amelia’s (Élodie Yung) deal to protect Kincaid (Samuel L. Jackson).
While Michael tends to his mundane everyday life, his ex-girlfriend and current Interpol agent, Amelia, is tasked with escorting a notorious hitman, Darius Kincaid (Samuel L. Jackson), to the International Criminal Court to give witness testimony against Vladislav Dukhovich (Gary Oldman), the dictator of Belarus charged with counts of genocide and ethnic cleansing. But on their way to the court, Amelia’s convoy is attacked; far from being a secret, their movements have been leaked to outside attackers. Amelia and Kincaid momentarily team up to get out of the area, but now they must find a way to get to the court without Interpol’s help. With no else left to turn to, Ameilia phones Michael and asks him to help transport Kincaid.
Michael is initially reluctant to help. On one level, he doesn’t want to deal with Amelia due to their break-up. On another level, due to the nature of his work, he’s found himself on the opposite side of Kincaid many times, often having to keep his clients protected from the hitman. There’s a clear antagonism present in the group. But Amelia promises to help reinstate Michael’s company’s security rating through her government connections if he gets Darius to the court on time to testify. Thus, the reluctant duo between hitman and bodyguard is born.
Unfortunately, the plot that follows goes exactly as one would expect: a love-hate relationship is formed by the duo who ribs and endears themselves to one another over the course of their trip all while they survive increasingly elaborate attacks by Dukovich’s party. Though disappointing, the narrative would be fine if it at least served as a vehicle for stylized action sequences or entertaining character moments, but none of these moments ever bear fruit because the movie would rather tell than show.
The visual creativity from the opening never happens again which is a shame because the primary antagonism between Michael and Kincaid is how they orient themselves towards planning. While Michael is rigid and disciplined, Kincaid is very much the opposite, opting to play situations based on how they proceed in the moment. Consequently, when the character’s find themselves dealing with a threatening situation, they tend to have different reactions; Michael thinks something out and tries to stick by the book while Kincaid goes for the clearest immediate option available. Instead of demonstrating this visually like he does in the opening, perhaps by shooting Michael’s character with split-screen shots to showcase the sequential planning and Kincaid’s character with jump cuts to demonstrate the haphazard movement, director Patrick Hughes opts for standard coverage of the duo as they deal with their problems. We don’t get to see the difference between the characters manifest in poignant fashion and are forced to gleam the essence of their relationship through their conversations.
This proves to be an issue because most of the dialogue is insipid and insists on the basest humor to get a laugh. Ryan Gosling and Samuel L. Jackson may be talented actors, but there’s only so much they can do when most of their conversations end in a punchline about smelling like ass. This type of humor is uninspiring on its own but contributes to a serious tonal whiplash when the story jumps from these jokes to scenes of the primary antagonist planning/committing genocide and genocide-related activities.
All of this culminates in a general feeling of disengagement. There’s nothing to get invested in. The characters are placeholders for the story that give their actors little room to breathe life into the narrative. The jokes are indexed to the lowest common denominator of humor and undercut any sense of tension or gravitas. Even though the action scenes are shot competently and give a clear sense of what’s going on, you don’t care because there’s nothing to cling onto.
REPORT CARD
TLDR
The Hitman’s Bodyguard is a movie that lacks any sense of personality or identity worth investing in. The aggregation of safe buddy-cop story beats provides very little entertainment as even the most minute action is predictable. Even the comedic stylings of the leading duo can’t give the movie a pulse as the script insists on having them repeat the worst punchlines to jokes repeatedly.
Rating
D
Grade
5.5/10
Go to Page 2 for the spoiler discussion and more in-depth analysis. Go to Page 3to view this review’s progress report .
The camera slowly pushes in on the First Reformed church.
The camera lingers on the First Reformed Church sign.
The camera lingers on the Church from an alternative angle -the back of the building.
The camera lingers on the front door of the Church.
The opening 3 minutes of the movie set the stage for the piece to follow by lulling us into a meditative state with silence and slow moving cinema. Each shot lingers and makes us anticipate what’s to come. The lack of anything tangible to grasp onto forces us to reach forward which primes us for the upcoming scene.
For over a minute, the camera slowly and quietly pushes in on a church. Upon getting to the building’s base the movie cuts to a sign in front letting us know this is the First Reformed Church. Like the shot getting to the church, this shot of the sign lingers. The movie cuts to yet another image of the church, this time from an angle behind it as opposed to in front of it. The camera lingers once again before cutting to a shot of the church’s door. Another pause as the camera lingers. Four shots. Each silent. This is the movie priming us, letting us know to strap in for the slow and meticulous ride. By using silence and stillness like this, Schrader creates type of meditative lull. We’re desperate to find something to latch onto because it feels like nothing’s been given to us.
Ernst (Ethan Hawke) writes in his journal as he explains to the audience that he writes because he cannot pray. God’s lonely man experiencing a crisis of faith – this is Schrader’s wheelhouse.
It’s at this moment of desperation where the 3 minute long silence is broken by a voice-over by Ernst Toller (Ethan Hawke). The camera cuts to reveal him writing in a journal. The preceding silence of the opening sequence not only signals the importance of the first source of sound but also heightens their spiritual impact. We’re fully attentive to what Toller has to say. It’s at this point he mentions that the journal is his attempt at spirituality – an alternative to praying which, for reasons unknown to us, he can longer engage in. A priest experiencing a crisis of faith.
After a service, Toller is approached by a young mother-to-be Mary (Amanda Seyfried) and her husband Michael (Philip Ettinger). She asks Toller to check in on her husband due to fears that he, Michael, is in a dark spiritual place. Toller agrees and sets out to meet him the next day. He spends the night writing in his journal giving us more to learn about him. His process of introspection is harsh and unforgiving, revealing a man desperate to find inner peace. He ends the entry once again bemoaning his lack of ability to pray.
The camera lingers on Mary and Michael’s house for over a minute. All that happens during this time is a women walking her dog across the screen.
After the women and her dog clear off, Ernst finally shows up and proceeds to walk into the house.
The movie makes frequent use of pauses and deadtimes to achieve a meditative state. Schrader’s transcendental style focuses on getting the audience to slow down and actively engage in the cinematic experience as opposed to passively just absorbing information. By forcing the long wait on the women just walking, he gets us ready for the important conversation to come.
The next day comes. The camera cuts to Mary and Michael’s house. We watch the house for close to a minute during which time all that happens is a women walking her dog across the sidewalk. Like the start of the movie, this sequence a meditative lull, purposely put by Schrader to slow the pace of the movie and get us primed to fully invest in what’s to happen. Eventually Toller does arrive and goes to engage Michael. The 12 minute conversation between the two is the heart and soul of the movie and ranges from topics including anti-natalism to martyrdom. At each turn of the conversation, Michael nihilism regarding the world pours out. It’s clear he’s at his wits end and Toller attempts to diffuse the situation as best as he can before explaining to Michael that the source of his problem is an existential issue that’s plagued us all since the start of time.
Wisdom is holding two contradictory truths in our mind, simultaneously, Hope and despair. A life without despair is a life without hope. Holding these two ideas in our head is life itself.
He explains that, “Wisdom is holding two contradictory truths in our mind, simultaneously, Hope and despair. A life without despair is a life without hope. Holding these two ideas in our head is life itself.” This statement is the thesis of the movie and the jumping off point for the questions it seeks to answer. What is hope? What is despair? What does it mean for something to exhibit hope or despair? How do those ideas change when presented with different interpretations of the divine?
These spiritual questions become more poignant because the circumstances under which they arrive are intimately tied to the material issues the movie tackles. For example, what does environmental preservation look like once you consider the problem of evil. Did God mean for us to destroy the planet for some greater end? If so does that mean renewal efforts are problematic? The movie constantly throws loops like these and more (opposing Bible verses for example) into the equation causing us to re-evaluate the same event over and over sometimes multiple times in a scene. These moments not only force us to ask whether or not what the character’s are doing wrong but also whether or not our own actions hold up to judgement. Schrader can only achieve this level of audience engagement and introspection because of the perfect way he marries narrative and structure.
At a narrative level, Schrader’s script sets everything up for success. The story of a priest helping the troubled husband of a young couple is lifted from Bergman’s Winter Light. The loner on a mission who slowly becomes obsessed with a singular goal is lifted from his own Taxi Driver script. The voice-over narration and the journal is lifted from Bresson’s Diary of a Country Priest (which Schrader also previously lifted for Taxi Driver). These larger allusions are combined with a host of other references (ex: Tarkovsky) to create a sum that’s genuinely greater than its parts. This is because every element lifted over is only done so if it helps tie into and expand the theme and the content involved is updated to be more relevant to an audience now. Nothing is homage just for homage’s sake. It all has a purpose.
For example, in Winter Light the main preacher, Tomas, is someone who’s frustrated with the silence of God. He’s an angry man dealing with the loss of a wife. His encounter with Jonas, Michael’s double, is marked by complete despair. Likewise, Toller is someone who’s dealing with his own crisis of faith. He’s dealing with the loss of his wife and son. His encounter with Michael, is marked by hope and despair, primarily because he sees Michael as an counterpoint to his deceased son. The lifted plot thus becomes distinct and opens new points of contrast that were unavailable before. Furthermore, Jonas is concerned about the threat with China. Michael is primarily concerned with anthropogenic climate change. The latter is far more relevant to an audience today. This is true of most of the call-backs to other movies. The structures/ideas are imported over, but are constructed in strict point and counterpoint duos to explore the ideas of hope and despair.
The way that Schrader has taken and developed these story ideas is most apparent when comparing First Reformed to Taxi Driver. Both stories employ Bresson’s voice-over tool to get us in the protagonists head. The technique not only lets us know them but gets us invested in rooting for them. In Taxi Driver, Travis Bickle, the protagonist, is a loner desperate to find a place. He’s never found a way to belong so his attempts at finding normalcy are utterly strange even if they initially come off as endearing. We’re sympathetic to his struggles even if we can’t understand him. As his decision making becomes more erratic we experience a strange shock. While Toller shares this desperation to find a place, he’s more mature and grounded. Unlike Travis, he’s had a family and a past before. Unlike Travis, he’s able to articulate the nature of his existential crisis. He’s not just being assaulted by a unassailable alienation. This makes his journey more easy to latch onto and comprehend. It’s not sympathy but empathy that gets us on his side. He reads. He thinks. He’s contemplative and kind, even if he’s harsh on himself. His nature as a priest makes him automatically someone we’re more receptive towards. As his decision making becomes more apparent, we become incredibly unnerved. By pushing us even more into the corner of his lonely protagonist, Schrader manages to increase the impact and feeling of every decision that’s made. It’s one thing watching a loose canon go closer to the extreme. It’s another thing entirely to watch a self-tempered man of God go to the same places.
Schrader’s dedication to using his “transcendental” style to structure the movie makes these hard hitting moments that much more effective [1]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mFcCs8c2n6I. He litters the movie with odd little sequences that only serve to elongate the time between moments of tension. We’re forced to sit with our thoughts and take in the world. Every event is given it’s importance. Every decision’s significance becomes that much more relevance. By testing our patience, Schrader ensures we’re invested in the story and thinking about the relevance of what’s going on.
Ernst (Ethan Hawke) and Michael (Philip Ettinger) speak about a host of issues. The initial conversation is framed in a two shot to force the audience to pick sides.
Ernst (Ethan Hawke) responding to Michael.
Michael ( Phillip Ettinger) responding to Ersnt.
The color palette the movie uses is drab, muted, and drained. The austere environment adds to the meditative feeling of the movie. This palette combined with the way dialogue is framed makes every conversation that much more hard-hitting and involved. Conversation happening in a two shot requires the audience to parse the scene – paying attention to what is being said, how it’s being said, and how it’s been perceived. Singles are inherently more intimate because they allow the characters to speak “directly” to the audience with less of a filter. The resulting combination makes dialogue scenes more personal and engaging for audience members because they become involved in parsing and dealing with the weight of what’s being said.
This is reinforced at a visual level in both the drab color palette, the smaller aspect ratio (1:37) , and the basically un-moving camera. Nothing on the screen is ever meant to distract so nothing is flashy. This makes visceral scenes that much more direct. The screen itself is smaller and more constricted than usual, limiting the amount of information we have to work with and forcing us to pay even more attention to what we actually get. An unmoving camera forces us to stay focused on what’s happening in front of us, giving the moments that play out a duration which adds to their intensity. They also help build anticipation as the camera will stay focused on nothing as characters converse off frame. Unlike a normal movie which would pan over to the characters, Schrader often chooses to just wait till the characters come back in. Dialogue scenes are usually filmed in two shots (with both characters in frame) or in respective singles. Unlike most movies now, there are no over-the shoulder shots. Put together, the techniques lead to an rare intimacy with the characters. When they talk directly at the screen it feels like they’re talking to us. No over the shoulders mean no defense against their questions and concerns. The impact of what is happening is something that must be confronted.
Similarly, the soundscape is mainly quiet and filled with diegetic (within the world of the movie) noises, like footsteps or the wind blowing. When non-diegetic sound is finally introduced over an hour into the movie, it’s presence coincides with a startling event. The movie makes clear strides not to use any non-diegetic music, opting instead for a disconcerting droning noises to emphasize the uneasiness of the situations playing out.
Even the actors aren’t spared the quieting treatment as Schrader directs them to be as non-theatrical as possible. None of the characters ever emote in a way that’s showy or overly familiar. They’re not stoic, but their immediate feelings aren’t easily accessible. You have to take the time to look at them and see the slight nuances they give off. The emotional depth present only reveals itself to those willing to give to the movie as much as they want to take.
Ethan Hawke exemplifies subtle acting in this scene as he slowly closes his eyes and demonstrates a light feeling of satisfaction in response to the Church choir’s singing. The slow way the music washes over him is played subtle enough to show its impact without feeling showy or staged.
For example, in one breathtaking scene Reverend Toller walks in on the church’s youth choir singing “Are You Washed in the Blood”. He quietly takes a seat in the audience and lets the music envelop him. Hawke’s acting is subtle. He doesn’t do anything ostentation. Instead he closes his eyes slowly and lets the smallest slimmer of a smile creep up. The speed at which he does it makes it feel like Toller is actually experiencing something washing over him. The movie is filled with moments like these and it’s testament to both Schrader and his actors that most of them leave such a powerful impact.
The telos of all these surgically precise decisions is to generate a piece capable of reaching the audience on a truly spiritual level. Just like William Friedkin’s The Exorcist, First Reformed gives to the view exactly what they put in. One’s disposition towards hope or despair colors the way the entire story progresses, and the more one intensely relates to the context by which these ideas are presented the more intense the culmination of the entire experience becomes. Every critical juncture within the story presents a point and counterpoint – a path of hope and a path of despair. These moments allow the audience, the characters, and Schrader via proxy to engage in dialogue constantly, transforming the moments of silence the film employs into opportunities for reflection and gestation. We’re allowed to bask in the severity of what’s being explored. The final scene is the ultimate closing to everything leading up to it; it’s construction fully makes use of past judgements on the part of viewer so no two viewing experiences will ever be the same.
First Reformed is the culmination of a lifetime of work and represents the absolute crystallization of Schrader’s style, a culmination of the ideas he’s been bringing to life for the past few decades. It’s filled with references and allusions to Schrader’s favorite movies, informing us both of the movie’s place in the transcendental cannon and Schrader’s own thought process in the story’s construction. Despite this, the movie feels completely unique because each reference has a distinctive purpose in the grander scheme of the theme .It’s a movie where every move has purpose each of which can be traced back to Schrader’s own writings on what makes transcendental filmmaking . Toller being a more mature Bickle is emblematic of the way First Reformed is the maturation of Schrader’s “lonely man” narrative – a story he’s been telling since the 70’s. It is my favorite movie of his (including both his written and directed works) and one every person should watch. If you authentically give yourself to it and the ideas it presents, you may find yourself in the midst of a genuine spiritual journey.
REPORT CARD
TLDR
First Reformed feels like Paul Schrader’s most distilled and rigidly methodical movie. This tale of a reverend dealing with a crisis of faith might be Schrader’s latest in a long line of God’s lonely man stories, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t have something unique to say. By combining the ideas and plot structures from his favorite spiritual movies and his own former works, Schrader is able to create a truly unique tale exploring the depths of hope and despair.
Every move made from editing to lighting, is done in accords with the transcendental method Schrader defined so many years ago in his seminal work, Transcendental style in film: Ozu, Bresson, Dreyer. He makes use of dead time, an unmoving camera, minimal noise in the soundscape, and the like to lull us into his character’s point of view before then dragging us along our own parallel spiritual journey. This is a movie that demands an active audience to parse meaning from it because answers aren’t clear and points of emphasis aren’t made clear. Every scene requires the audience to make a choice on what is and is not important and why. The more you give to the movie, the more it gives back to you.
If you’re someone who’s loved Schrader’s past works (both written and directed), you owe it to yourself to check this out. At the very least, using it as a reference stick against his other movies will give you a lot to inspect regarding his evolution as an auteur. Likewise, if you’re someone who enjoys slow moving spiritual works in the vein of Dreyer and Bresson, you should check out the movie for similar reasons. The way it remixes references and ideas is something truly innovative and demonstrates proper allusions can make a work that much stronger.
Rating
10/10
Grade
S+
Go to Page 2 for the for the spoiler discussion and more in-depth analysis. Go to Page 3to view this review’s progress report .
Rafe Spall as Luke Arsher Ali as Phil Robert James-Collier as Hutch Sam Troughton as Dom Paul Reid as Robert
Release Date
2017
Language(s)
English
Running Time
94 minutes
A group of 5 friends – Luke, Phil, Hutch, Dom, and Robert- meet in a bar to plan their next vacation with one another. Like any group of mates from college they’ve obviously outgrown their younger tendencies and struggle to determine a good location. As each of them suggests a possible spot another rejects it for some contrived reason. The group session ends with no decision and Luke, the loner of the group who seems most caught up in his past life, decides he wants to buy another bottle of booze from a convenience store. His mates, who have responsibilities now, don’t particularly want to come with him, but eventually Robert acquiesces and joins along. Unfortunately, the store they visit is being robbed by some violent cretins. Luke, with his bottle in hand, runs and hides. Robert isn’t as lucky and ends up losing his life as he’s brutally sliced apart while Luke watches in the background, petrified and unable to move. The movie cuts to Luke waking up in Sweden as his friends and him have decided to go on a hiking trip – Robert’s suggestion from that night so many months ago – to honor their late friend’s legacy.
From the outset, Luke is positioned apart from his 3 other friends. It doesn’t need to be said, but the elephant in the room is clear – he survived and did nothing as Robert died inside. The movie makes this clear in its composition, keeping Luke at an arms length from his mates, reminding the audience there’s a wound there that hasn’t been addressed.
As the group wakes to give their respects to Robert, Luke (Rafe Spall) is the first one up and he positions himself immediately away from the rest of his mates. The first image is a recurrent composition the movie employs to showcase just how fractured the group is due to the tensions between him and the other members. The second image highlights the way the rest of Luke’s friends position themselves in relation to him. The first one out of the tent is Hutch (Robert James-Collier), followed by Phil (Arsher Ali), finally followed by Dom (Sam Troughton). This sequencing of the friends is also something the movie frequently employs to make Luke’s subsequent emotional journey more coherent, while giving the audience a good view of the group’s dynamic.
After making a toast to Robert, the four friends track back on the mountainous path that seems to engulf them. The camera showcases just how small they really are in this wide area, yet to be tamed by “modern” civilization. As they continue, Dom trips and hurts his leg. Given that he’s the member of the group who most misses Robert and positions himself furthest from Luke at all times, this external injury seems to match the internal struggle he faces in getting over the issue and forgiving his friend. Needless to say, his injury derails the groups plans and they decide to cut through an ominous, foreboding forest to get back to their lodge faster. As Luke and Hutch canvas the area, the camera demonstrates just how distant the lodge looks as it seems to be overwhelmed by the forest surrounding it from all angles – civilization covered by the mysterious and natural – a sign of things to come.
The group makes their way through the forest. An eerie string based composition starts to play, starting off low and slowly becoming more threatening. It cuts out and we can hear the twigs snap in an utter silence. The wind blows, a gust against the ears. This soundscape is the forest speaking – a natural language that’s incomprehensible to human ears in easy to define terms, but that generates an emotional sensation – that of fear. The group happens upon a gutted animal, ceremoniously hung from the trees. A hunter perhaps. But as the characters ask, what kind of hunter would be able to enact such a feat, let alone go ahead with it. Desperate to get the macabre imagery out of their heads, they continue until the night falls. A heavy rain covers the group, incentivizing them to stay the night in an abandoned cabin straight out of the Evil Dead. They explore the relic from the past and find a host of disturbing religious paraphernalia. Combined with the gutted animal, the images provide too much for the group who have no choice but to ignore and get to sleep.
Luke awakes to a bright lit pouring into the cabin. He tries to wake his friends but they refuse to wake up. He goes outside and suddenly he’s transported back to the convenience store where his friend passed. He’s forced to relive the trauma – to experience his mistake and sense of shame once again before waking and realizing it was just a dream. He runs back to the cabin and realizes like him, every one of his friends has experienced some kind of night time terror – a dance with the dark vestiges of their minds, the forest, or perhaps both. The group falls into an emotional disarray as the members are desperate to get over the instance and leave the menacing forest. Unfortunately for them, it’s not going to be so easy.
This is The Ritual, a meditation on friendship, grief, dissolution, and masculinity. From the pub scene at the beginning to the trek the group makes into the forest, it’s clear that the friend group is at a crossroads of sorts. While most of the members have seemingly grown up and become “adults” so to say, Luke is trapped in his “glory days”. His friends have partners and kids. Meanwhile he has his booze. The death of Robert is the camel that breaks the back of the friendship – forcing the party to confront one another over issues that have been ignored in lieu of maintaining a camaraderie. While civilization gave them avenues to forget and taper over the issue, the raw affective intensity of the forest, free from the bounds of society, give them a chance to get those emotions out in play. Their frustrations at being lost in the forest bleed into their original frustrations – Luke’s inability to save their friend.
As a man, it’s expected that Luke should’ve mustered some courage and fight for his friend. His friends might not outright say it, but they all believe it to some effect. This is constantly reflected in the blocking of the characters in position to Luke. When he’s not apart from the others, he’s always placed closest to Hutch, then Phil, ending with Dom – a reflection of the different levels of grief, acceptance, and culpability his friends feel about him and Rob’s death. The group has ignored the emotional wounds between them in an attempt to pretend everything is okay – another sign of a failed masculine overcoding that can’t reckon with the situation. Being bros somehow translates to not showing emotions, not accepting a place for weakness and vulnerability. This point is repeated by the shared dream sequence. Despite each member of the group having gone through something harrowing at night, experiencing psychologically painful visions, they refuse to talk about. Hutch even exclaims he doesn’t want to psychoanalyze because there are real issues at stake – as though the emotional damage the group feels is not real. The group of “friends” would rather beat the piss out of each other than genuinely talk to each other, a violent reaction as opposed to a vulnerable discussion. It’s a value statement that reflects the way emotional sensibilities are pushed aside by civility. It’s no coincidence that the group is forced to deal with their emotions once they’re outside of the bounds of the same.
The setting of the story constantly reflects this internal struggle, making it something we see and hear. As I’ve mentioned the score (which sounds similar in feeling to that of The Witch) and the crisp sound mixing give the forest a genuine sense of agency. Every branch being crushed, every gust of wind that feels like a spectral entity speaking, every random sound of movement gives the forest a voice. The music which starts off low becomes more boisterous and ceremonial sounding, ritualistic as the movie title suggests. It’s an unnerving soundscape that works at ratcheting up the tension while giving the movie’s emotional undercurrent a palpable measure. This is exemplified the most in the ending song of choice, which I won’t spoil, but will say succinctly ties the movie up beautifully. At a visual level, the camera constantly positions the group in the midst of long and looming trees, with ominous branches moving out like sets of hands literally threatening to come out and grab them at any time. There are multiple shots of just the scraggly and wicked looking branches, which look like they could poke an eye out if not careful. It’s an effective reminder of the way the emotional turmoil the group is facing risks swallowing them entirely, the weight of their emotions actively covering up and encroaching the spaces the characters place themselves in.
The forest threatens to overwhelm the group and represents their emotionally fragmented and tumultuous state. The first image in the first row showcases just how small they are in the grander scheme of the forest (the use of the tree to guide the audience’s eye is great). The second image in the first row one of the many shots of the ominous looking branches that seem like hands ready to grab the group. They radiate an malicious intent. The image in the second row is a demonstration of the beautiful way the trees are used to block the characters apart from one another. It represents the way their inability to deal with their issues literally separates them from one another.
Effective mood and atmosphere – this is how the movie manages to completely enrapture the audience in the terror its characters face. The fact that the story starts with Robert’s violent death sets the tone for everything that’s to come – it sets an expectation that this is a story motivated by loss, whether that be loss of a friendship, loss of identity, or loss of loved ones. The move to the forest and the effective utilization of familiar horror tropes -creepy cabin in the woods, runic carvings on trees, unnerving dream sequences, and undecipherable movement throughout the forest- helps the audience get familiar with the story with little effort. Instead of getting lost on the minutia , we’re razor focused on the story of the characters. That’s not to say that these tropes are used just as an easy tool to easy the storytelling – they’re all motivated by the storytelling and a compelling art direction that fully rears its head in the third act.
At the heart of the story is the group of friends themselves. The actors portraying each of these characters does a bang up job at selling the nature of their friendship. From the way the characters banter to the way they emote with one another, it’s clear that they’re a group of all friends who have a host of shared memories and a reluctance to engage in any serious emotional dialogue. As someone who’s had/has many of the same friend groups, I could literally place my own friends in the characters places. They’re relatable, down to Earth, and genuinely human. Because the movie spends so much time getting the audience focused on them as opposed to random story details, we end up caring when things start happening to them as opposed to questioning why those things are happening. Not one of the characters feels one note (even if some feel less developed than others). In fact, they’re so realistic that even their joking banter in the face of some truly heinous phenomena feels natural and gives the movie a levity that doesn’t upend the eerie tension that builds through the runtime at a steady pace. This is effective horror film-making.
The issues with the movie have more do with the movie’s focus on Luke as the primary vehicle the audience gets to experience trauma and overcoming it. As I mentioned, each of the characters has their own take on Robert’s death and Luke’s decision-making during that event, but we only ever really get to hear one persons opinion and part of another. For a movie that’s about breaking open a civilized masculinity in favor of emotional openness, it would have been nice to see the nuance in perspective from the group to get a fuller and more rounded picture. Likewise, this is reflected in the fact that the only dream sequences we see are Luke’s. The other characters hint at what they saw, but getting to see their visions and their relation to them would open up the possibility for a genuine deconstruction of the way over-masculinity manifests. The movie ends up using every character outside of Luke to help him transition from emotionally stunted to open, denying them a unique chance to grow and making them more like benchmarks for the protagonist to gauge character progression. Sure, the run time of the movie might have been another 10-15 minutes if they all got their unique arcs/development, but in the context of what the movie was trying to achieve I think that would’ve been fine. There are definitely moments in the movie , especially in the 3rd act, which could have been trimmed out to make time for these moments.
Speaking of the 3rd act, while I genuinely enjoyed the way it reveals the “secrets” of the forest and the mystery surrounding the groups journey, it comes off a bit jarring compared to the intensity of the previous two acts. The attempts at giving explanations to the mystery feel like they either should have been expanded on or given in a more cryptic fashion to match with the exceptional and breathtaking scenes that end up occurring.
That being said, these complaints should not detract from the bigger picture. The Ritual is a stunning movie that has an important message about overcoming trauma – both at an individual and social level. The way the cinematography and audio work externalize the characters internal struggles is masterful and keeps the stories themes front and center even if we’re not aware that’s what’s happening. Acting is great all around and really helps sell some of the emotional gut punches the movie has waiting for us. Definitely a movie you want to see with a group of friends, especially if you can see your mates in the characters present.
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TLDR
The Ritual is an ambitious piece of horror filmmaking that attempts to analyze and breakdown masculinity, friendship, trauma and their relations to one another in a palatable and non-preachy way. The story starts with a brutal death and carries the emotional weight of that event through the run-time, forcing the characters and the audience to engage in a dialogue about forgiving oneself and finding the strength to connect to our rawer, more emotional sides. The technical aspects of the movie are stunning from the unnerving score to the masterful art design. If you’re looking for a creepy movie to watch with the boys, look no further.
Rating
9.1/10
Grade
A
Go to Page 2 for the spoiler discussion. Go to Page 3 to view this review’s progress report
Takayuki Hamatsu as Higurashi Mao as Mao Harumi Shuhama as Nao Yuzuki Akiyama as Chinatsu Kazuaki Nagaya as Ko Manabu Hosoi as Hosoda Hiroshi Ichihara as Kasahara
Release Date
2017
Language(s)
Japanese
Running Time
97 minutes
In a lot of ways, One Cut of the Dead, is like The Cabin in the Woods. It’s a love letter to horror filmmaking and a dissection of of genre clichés masquerading as a horror movie. However unlike it’s western counterpart, this movie focuses more on the beauty of the film making process and its relation to horror as opposed to playing with horror tropes in general. As the title indicates, it’s a zombie movie shot in one uninterrupted cut, a B movie premise that attempts to elevate itself through camerawork and direction. It’s this elaborate display of style and juxtaposition with it’s schlocky content that gives this horror comedy a genuine life of its own.
The movie starts with an obviously fake looking scene, as an idol looking girl, Chinatsu, is attacked by a zombie, played by Ko. From the way she cries to the zombie reaching out to her to the lack of facial change as Ko bites into her, it’s apparent that the movie feels like a farce. Outraged at the lack of genuine emotion, Higurashi, the director stops the scene and verbally eviscerates his actors for being unable to display any real emotion and for actively interfering with his ability to produce the best movie possible. After being pushed aside, he angrily leaves the building the shoot is going on in. As he leaves, Ko goes to comfort Chinatsu and the duo start to talk to another member of the staff, Nao, who attempts to pacify their worries about the director. She even shows off them a new self defense technique she’s been learning – the “Pom” release method – to get the cast and crew back in good spirits.
The “Pom” defensive technique requires yelling “Pom!”, bending down , and shooting one’s hands up. Nao (Harumi Shuhama) demonstrates the procedure on Ko (Kazuaki Nagaya) as the trio waits for the director to come back from his tantrum.
Meanwhile outside of the building, Katsuhara, one of the cast members, sees an obviously sick looking man, Hosoda, wondering around. He jokes that the latter looks good enough to be a zombie in the movie and offers him a part, until Hosoda throws his body on the unsuspecting crew member and hurls his guts all over him, infecting him with something. Katsuhara’s previously calm demeanor turns deadly serious as he realizes this is happening for real. Just as the trio inside starts to get comfortable and back into their groove, Katsuhara, stumbles into the room with one his arms having been removed, blood dripping down his sleeve. At first the trio thinks of it as a joke, until Ko feels his pulse and realizes he’s dead. Before he can compose his thoughts, Hosoda attempts to break into the building, his eyes bulging out and blood dripping from his face. He attempts to attack the group before pushed aside. It’s at this moment the director comes back in and reveals that he completed a blood ceremony on the rooftop to bring to life some real zombies. His hope being that the injection of a real source of danger will be enough to get some genuine reactions out of his actors. Finally realizing that their director and his camera crew are fully serious on capturing their authentic reactions even at the cost of their safety, the trio reacts accordingly and runs for their life.
The story plays out in a way that’s simultaneously hilarious and disturbing as the cast is constantly put in unpredictable situations to get the best possible shot. The whole time Higurashi runs with his camera, screaming “Action!” at the top of his lungs, completely selling the mad artist angle. Even if it’s not the zombie movie he must have originally envisioned the show must go on and his absolute madness and willingness to change the script for the best result is what makes it so entertaining. It’s a strange artistic phenomena because the B movie suddenly becomes injected with a profound sense of energy. The fake nature of it becomes tinged and then infused with bits of realness as the pre-ordained story gives way to an adaptation in the face of new events. The cast members genuinely transform into aggressive characters bent on surviving the ordeal. Their actor personas are discardedin favor of actual survival skills in the face of the impending zombie apocalpyse. Their real personalities take over the façade they presented up to this point. For example, the playful Nao becomes downright malicious, fully embracing the bloody onslaught. Meanwhile the previously unemotive Chinatsu becomes absolutely terrified, as she’s forced to deal with the off-script shenanigans.
Nao (Harumi Shuhama) fully snapped dealing with the situation of acting against the unknown dangers present. Fully ready to kill anyone who gets in her way, she emanates a dangerous aura.
While all the action is unfolding, the camera never breaks from its continuous shot. Even during the strange moments where the crew is unsure of how to react to the idea they’re dealing with real zombies, the camera constantly lingers and keeps what’s important in the frame. As Higurashi chases the crew literally throwing zombies at them, the camera follows the madness at breakneck pace. The movie even reveals the cinematographer/videographer is really part of the story, as their hands come to clean blood off the screen to ensure that the shot is visible.
The cinematographer wipes zombie blood off the camera frame as he chases Ko (Kazuaki Nagaya) and Chinatsu (Yuzuki Akiyama)
The idea of the cinematographer running between crew members and zombies is hilarious, but they embrace the director’s frenetic energy and keep the main job in priority- producing a good movie despite the costs. It’s an absolutely mad balancing act that only gets better as the movie goes on and reveals the lengths that every member of the cast goes through to survive the filming ordeal (crew members becoming zombies incapable of following the script tends to cause things to go off the rails).
This is because at the heart of the movie is a discussion about art – the way we think about certain pieces of media being artistic versus others just being entertainment- the line between schlock and arthouse. Every perception is challenged as the fake movie gives way to a real, living assemblage of movie making that demonstrates the power of embracing chaos and adapting to the situation to make something truly staggering. Sure there are a few issues. Are some of the effects corny? Yes. Is the camera movement a bit suspect at times? Yes . Are there awkward pauses between characters as they struggle to deal with the madness they’re forced to endure? Yes. However, in spite of all these issues the movie manages to do what it sets out to do – tell a continuously shot one cut horror story about zombies. The fact that some of the in-camera editing can even happen as briskly as it can is testament to the hard work that goes on to sell the scenes. The fact the camera stays on the action the whole time in spite of the troubles caused by forces outside of the videographers control is testament to their willpower and strength in lugging a camera in tumultuous situations. The fact that the actors can pull out as much emotion as they do when push comes to shove is testament to their malleability in difficult circumstances. Even if the illusion of the story is something that’s hard to believe at times, the dedication to delivering a moving picture is something that leaps off the screen and shows that even cheap gore can be elevated into something to be admired.
If you’re looking for a film that genuinely scares you, this isn’t it. However, if you’re looking for a film that celebrates and demonstrates the power of horror, look no further. From the quirky story to the way characters reveal their real selves as chaos on the set ensues, this is a movie that’s an absolute blast to watch. You may not leave the movie frightened, but you will leave impressed with the power of filmmaking and the trial and tribulations gone through by every member of the cast and crew in delivering a piece that’s truly special.
REPORT CARD
TLDR
One Cut of the Dead is an innovative and moving love letter to B horror movies that demonstrates just how magical they can really be. From the continuous unbroken take to the layered and complex plot, this is a movie that really demonstrates the trials and tribulations gone through to make a movie, even one where the pacing of the plot and the practical effects aren’t the most lavish. If you’re a horror fan (especially of movies like Evil Dead), give this movie a watch. You won’t regret it.
Rating
10/10
Grade
A+
Go to Page 2 for the spoiler discussion (given the nature of the movie there’s quite a lot here). Go to Page 3 to view this review’s progress report
Mark Duplass as Aaron Desiree Akhavan as Sara Karan Soni as Dave Patrick Brice as Old Aaron
Release Date
2017
Language(s)
English
Running Time
80 minutes
Creep 2 starts after the events of Creep, with Mark Duplass’s character, now going by Aaron comforting his soon to be killed newly-made friend, Dave after the latter receives a baby Peachfuzz doll with a camera inside of it. After playing with his food for a short bit, Aaron kills Dave , but his face reflects a genuine state of sadness instead of elation at the completion of the bloody task. After the title card shows up , the movie cuts to Sara, an aspiring YouTuber, who meets with strangers on Craigslist and similar sites in an attempt to capture some interesting footage of potential weirdos. Clips from her episodes are shown and demonstrate that she’s interacted with a slew of lonely, alienated, and strange persons who all seem to convince her that strangers are harmless by and large. One of her early “clients” even shows her his baby Jaws shark figure with such elation that you’d think it was Aaron talking about Peachfuzz, setting up her future calm discussion with Aaron quite well.
One of the Sara’s (Desiree Akhavan) initial subjects on her web series Encounters talks about his Jaws 2 shark figure with the same fondness that Aaron gives to Peachfuzz.
With her online show, Encounters, not doing so well with the viewers (a point I think any content creator can relate to, myself included), she decides to respond to an strange and spooky request by Aaron against her better judgement in an attempt to give her channel the boost it needs. Once she gets to his place to inquire into the nature of the new job, she’s met with pure honesty from Aaron who describes himself as a serial killer. He slowly goes through his craft and the way it brought him joy before revealing that he’s recently run into a creative strut and wants to create a new and moving work. He takes inspiration from Francis Ford Coppola who he claims said, “I have not made an original film since The Conversation in 1974. I’m not sure I am capable of it, but I really wanna keep trying.” This statement by his cinematic hero breathes a new life into his creativity and like Coppola, he seeks to create something distinctly him in spite of his imaginative decline- a documentary.
In a lot of ways the movie reminds me of Behind the Mask: The Rise of Leslie Vernon, another movie that involves a serial killer getting a documentary made about his activities. But unlike that movie where every member of the documentary crew is aware of what the titular serial killer, Leslie, is capable of, Sara doesn’t take Aaron’s statements seriously. Sara and Aaron’s initial conversation is played 100% straight on the part of Aaron whose candid discussion of the macabre is 1 part funny and 2 parts terrifying. He discusses finding victims and ripping open their bodies as though its a task analogous to praying- it’s a normalized experience for him that used to give him a spiritual catharsis. Meanwhile, Sara responds calmly and normally, unperturbed by the absurdity of what her new client tells her. Her previous encounters have jaded her to the possibility that any of these conversations could be real, so she takes them as part of a delusion of sorts and just rolls with whatever Aaron says, eventually accepting Aaron’s request to film a documentary on his life to capture the essence of a true serial killer.
It’s a clever set up that solves a lot of the issues from the first movie – namely that Old Aaron had very little character depth by himself and only shined when interacting with Aaron (formerly Josef). Sara is a character that serves as a great foil to Aaron- both are creators, both are struggling to find meaning in their work, and both are hiding the real intentions behind what they’re asking of the other. The movie recognizes this and spends a decent amount of time on just Sara, giving the audience a reason to care about her and her deliberation process to understand her increasingly dangerous decisions. Meanwhile, the movie constantly plays with Aaron’s personality and history, giving him ample opportunity to provide a series of facts that may or may not be true. The name of the movie becomes trying to figure out who Aaron really is. What is his backstory actually about? Why does he do what he does? What is his actual end goal?
This characterization is where the movie shines because the presence of an equally strong agent in the form of Sara means Aaron has to change up his behavior and reveal more about himself. He doesn’t get to dictate every step of the plan because she pushes back and refuses to play his game the way he wants. Akhavan matches Duplass’s energy, move for move, never letting any of his eccentric movements or facial expressions unnerve her. She is a an absolute unit – stoic and unwilling to budge, exhibiting her desire to get the footage with facial expressions that exhibit a calmness to her body language which exudes control. Likewise Duplass turns up his manic energy from the original movie and acts like an absolute madlad , doubling down on his attempts at random jump scares and going so far as to scream maniacally at birds that threaten his frame composition.
Aaron (Mark Duplass) trying to get the perfect composition for his backstory reveal with the water meant to symbolize a Christ like connection. His arms are up to where he wishes the water would be and his frustration only increases as malicious bird screeches interrupt his every word.
Watching the two of them adapt to one another to gain an upper hand is enthralling, but the specter of disaster constantly looms in the background , because we as an audience do know what Aaron is capable of. We know he’s a murderer who’s can slit a throat at the ready. The movie reminds us of as much at the very start of it and then reminds us again with his eerie description of the joys he found in murdering. As a result watching Sara delve deeper into the game provides genuine tension – one, because we don’t know what Aaron is actually after and when he’s going to go for a kill and two, because Sara’s attempts to prod Aaron’s character further for her web show do irritate him and bring out genuine bursts of anger that make you think he’s going to off her on the spot.
In light of what we know about Aaron from the first movie, this second movie does a good job at fleshing out possible motivations and his profile overall. It’s a continuation of his character study and the amount of clues the movie gives about his motivations is present in every single detail. From the way he renames himself to his past victim, to the way he his initial victim in the movie reminds us of his victim in the first movie, to his obsession with framing shots in the documentary to reflect certain themes, the movie constantly gives the audience a treasure trove of clues to flesh out Aaron’s profile. One of my favorite moments happens in his initial job pitch to Sara, where he implies that the two of them need to see each other in the nude to do away with any strange power imbalances between them. As he strips down and she films him, you can see everything (genitals included). However, when she calls his bluff, strips down, and gives him the camera to film, he focuses on moving the camera and zooming in on just her face. It’s a small subtle moment that highlights what he may actually be after, but the movie is packed with moments like these so it’s definitely a fun one to think about.
On the left Sara’s (Desiree Akhavan) framing keeps Aaron’s (Mark Duplass) full body in view. When he drops the towel his entire frame is shown, genitals included. On the right is Aaron’s framing of Sara’s nude body. He zooms in and focuses on her face center frame, highlighting the difference in his motivations and desires. What those are is up to the audience to figure out.
Unfortunately, the upgrades to the character dynamics and exploration of their relationship comes at the cost of an ending that feels rushed and unsatisfying. One of the biggest strengths of the first movie is how the ending wrapped everything up succinctly and got under the skin by implying that the whole film had been filmed by Aaron, while confirming that he’s done the same many times. This ending does not feel nearly as neat and leaves the audience with a lot more questions than answers. The last few minutes make it certain that there is going to be a sequel, so I can only hope that a future Creep 3 makes well on the character study done here, but as someone who thinks movies should be as self contained as possible (sequel baiting annoys me on balance) the ending definitely feels like a let down. Does it mar my enjoyment of the amazing character interaction work done for the majority of the movie’s running time? No. But it does feel like a let down given how great everything before it was.
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TLDR
Creep 2 solves most of the issues from the previous installment by giving the titular serial killer a powerful partner to play off against, who simultaneously serves as a foil to him while being a potential victim. The story of a serial killer actively exposing himself to create a documentary to relocate a creative drive sounds funny (and it is), but the movie constantly interrupts these comedic moments with a genuine sense of dread. Though the ending doesn’t quite land as well as I want it too, everything that came before it is exemplary. There’s a lot to chew on here as the movie invites the audience to really try and figure out what makes Aaron tick, without ever revealing its full hand. Taken in consideration with the original movie, this is a great character study into an enigma turned serial killer. I can only hope the next installment in the franchise gives us more to think about and hopefully some actual answers.
Rating
8.9/10
Grade
B+
Go to Page 2 to view this review’s progress report
Matilda Lutz as Jen Kevin Janssens as Richard Vincent Colombe as Stan Guillaume Bouchède as Dimitri
Release Date
2017
Language(s)
English, French
Running Time
108 minutes
I’m not the biggest fan of rape and revenge stories because I think most of them rely too much on the shock and exploitative nature of the rape and violence as opposed to the revenge by the survivor. As a result the exploitative nature of the movies tends to crowd out any big thematic takeaways about (feminine) agency and the way dominant powers can be usurped. Thankfully, as the title would suggest, Revenge is a story that focuses more on the survivor’s story than her abusers’ actions. Don’t get me wrong. The movie definitely doesn’t hold back punches when it comes to demonstrating the brutality our lead goes through. It’s just that it manages to do it in a way that focuses more on the horror of the power dynamic than just shocking imagery.
The story follows Jen and Richard, a couple on a romantic getaway that’s quickly interrupted when the latter’s two friends, Stan and Dimitri, show up at the house they’re staying in. As soon as they show up the mood in the house changes. There’s a palpable tension that keeps building, just waiting to explode and explode it does. Jen is violated, brutalized, and left for dead. Thankfully, the violence and brutality of the actions is demonstrated not by some grotesque demonstration of the act proper. Instead, it is the actions/reactions of the 3 men towards the “situation” that demonstrate just how depraved their behavior is. Though they’re similar in terms of their general orientation towards the situation (and women), Fargeat made sure to carve out unique identities for each of the scumbags. I was surprised at how well each member of the trio stood out. It’s easy to bog down the antagonists in these types of movies and make them all just a vacuous evil with varying shades, but Revenge teases out the nuances in their perception of women and violence demonstrating that toxic masculinity can come in different shapes and sizes, each perpetuating a misogynistic culture in their own ways.
Likewise, Jen is far more than the eye candy she’s made out to be in the earlier portions of the movie. When she’s first introduced she comes off as a pretty socialite who’s trying to enjoy her getaway despite the presence of her lovers new friends. She dances and parades with a full confidence and swagger. The camera lingers on her body in a provocative voyeuristic fashion, demonstrating what her male audience is paying attention to. After her traumatic encounter she draws upon a well of genius, tenacity, and rage to find a way to survive. Clad in the same previously sexualized garb, cut up and damaged, and covered with blood she goes out to execute her plan of action. Her transformation feels surreal with her subsequent revenge feeling more like a fantastical imagining of how it should go down rather than how it would in another movie. Some people might see it as unrealistic, but the movie fully embraces the dream like and seemingly magical logic of Jen’s journey so it never feels like a real issue. It helps that antagonists are all characters you actively want to see suffer, so there’s a great sense of catharsis in watching Jen proceed down her bloody path. Lutz’s performance is what keeps all these elements tightly knit and effective. Despite having only a few lines in the movie, everything from the way she holds her body to the way her face reflects her mood and outlook reinforces exactly what she’s thinking and what she’s planning on doing. There’s no need for words. What she wants is clear and her previous calls for help fell on deaf ears so the time for words are over.
The way the scenery and sound design reflect the changes in Jen and her subsequent journey are what push the movie over the edge. The color scheme of the vacation house she starts off at along with her wardrobe is fun, exciting, and bright with pretty pinks and nice yellows.As she goes along her journey her outfit becomes matted in blood, becoming dark and gritty matching the hellish desert landscape. While she might’ve been the prey back in the house, out in the wild she’s the huntress. Early on there’s a beautiful closeup shot of her blood pouring out in big drops, hitting the ground (and one particularly unlucky ant) like a series of explosions. Each drop is punctuated with the sound of a gun shot. It’s a highly effective scene that marks the beginning of her transformation and indicates to the audience that the power dynamic has started to shift. Moments like these are scattered through the movie through cuts to obviously symbolic imagery, vague fantasy sequences, and poetic flourishes that feel too good to be true.
Of course none of these elements would work if not for the tightly knit, well-paced story, that knows exactly when to push on the gas pedals and when to slow down. Blood and gore are used effectively. There’s a lot of it by the end, but it feels well earned as opposed to over the top. There’s never a boring moment in the movie and once the third act gets underway the movie becomes a non-stop, white-knuckled, cat and mouse chase that has to be seen to be believed. The way the camera moves with the characters as they frantically chase after one another adds a healthy dose of tension and disorientation which keeps you wholly engaged.
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TLDR
Revenge is an action packed story that subverts and plays with genre tropes and expectations to wild success. While it might feel too fantastical for those looking for an incredibly realistic revenge story, it absolutely delivers for those willing to give themselves over to the surreal way events unfold. This is a rape and revenge story that manages to keep the focus on the survivor and her journey to overcome and survive. It’s enthralling, well paced, and is packed withsymbols and images that’ll have you thinking long after the run time.
Rating
9.7/10
Grade
A+
Go to Page 2 for the spoiler discussion. Go to Page 3 to view this review’s progress report .
Nicole Munoz as Leah Reyes Laurie Holden as Mrs.Reyes
Release Date
2017
Language(s)
English
Running Time
90 minutes
Pywacket takes a family drama about the agitations of growing up and dealing with grief and combines it with slow burn supernatural horror in an attempt to highlight the consequences of emotional decision making and communicative mishaps. After a series of tense and emotionally fueled agitations with her mother, Leah decides enough is enough and wishes for the former’s death. Unbeknownst to her, dark forces were listening and she’s forced deal with the consequences of her ill-begotten wish.
The story takes a while to build up and the supernatural elements don’t really ratchet up till the third act. The core of the movie is the drama between Leah and her mom and their inability to deal with the loss of their father/husband. Each party has valid grievances but can never find a way to gauge the other on it. Watching them struggle to communicate hits real emotional nerves because it feels so real. Their disagreements feel commonplace and easy to locate in our own lives. It also helps that Munoz and Holden bring vulnerability and volatility in all of their interactions, so its easy to get lost in the emotional ebb and flow at the heart of the movie.
Parent-children relationships always involve a level of friction because of the nature of the bond. Parents have to love and care for their children while maintaining their own well-being, and children have to listen to their parents, grow, and figure out their own path in the world. Clash is inevitable and sometimes when passions get too heated, we want awful things to happen to the other person. It’s scary to think about how dark our heads can go with enough stress and damage . Thankfully for us, the passions are usually momentary- fleeting moments of malevolence lost in transit. The reason the horror in Pyewacket works is because it forces us to confront our worst fears- what if that awful thing we wished on someone actually happened?
Unfortunately, as interesting as the concept of the movie is , it’s executed without a lot of creativity. Supernatural events happen whenever the story determines they’re convenient and nothing is ever that jarring as a visual scare. I’m someone who likes scary sequences to have some kind of purpose or explanation, but the malevolent entity in this movie just acts when it wants to in random ways, so its hard to distinguish it from other scary oddities in other movies. Like, Pywacket is a witch’s familiar. There’s so much potential there, and instead it’s just creepy supernatural entity #945. Now to Macdonald’s credit, the third act has some tense sequences and terrifying moments of realization at what’s actually going on, but it feels a bit formulaic given the cool set up the story has going for itself. Sure there are no jump scares, but there’s also not some batshit super fun absurd out there ending like The House of the Devil. That feels like a shame.
The movie also tries to incorporate Leah’s friends into different scenes but none of them feel fleshed out or close to her at all. I was left wondering how any of them were friends or what the dynamic between them was. Especially with how some of the scenes progressed, I figured that they would be better incorporated into the scares or the themes, but they’re just kind of cast aside.
REPORT CARD
TLDR
Pyewacket is family drama about grief amplified with supernatural consequences. It’s a story about the dangers of emotional decision-making and the pitfalls of not communicating effectively. If you’re okay with a slow burn without any huge visceral payoffs, this is the movie for you. It may flub the third act a bit, but it tackles some very real fears and issues we all thinnk about.
Rating
8.2/10
Grade
B
Go to Page 2 for the spoiler discussion. Go to Page 3 to view this review’s progress report .
Man Without a Face as Priest Kmsura as The Amputee Dead Flesh as Rapist Elektriking as Man in Gas Mask
Release Date
2017
Language(s)
English
Running Time
77 minutes
What is death? Is it the end of the spirit or does it just mark the end of the physical body? People have always taken comfort in the idea that death is either a void bereft of any sensation or that there’s some kind of afterlife. This highly experimental movie throws those answers out and instead looks at death as the worst, most horrifying, event. Instead of a void, instead of heaven or hell, this a journey into death in its most intimate and horrifying, the end of physical existence and the sensation of the flesh.
There’s not a real plot. There are no real characters. If I’ve lost you already, then you know this movie isn’t for you. This is an experience through the most miserable depths of the human experience and isn’t something that should be touched by the faint of heart. Forget NSFW, there are NSFL scenes in here that haven’t left my head since I saw I first saw this movie. The black and white movie is an assault on the senses and doesn’t care about answering questions or making you feel secure. It only wants to hurt you. It wants to make you despair and break under its torrent of visceral depravity.
The words that come onto the screen are scratched and sharp, like the text in the movie poster above. It cuts into the screen and feels violent, like the movie is being effaced. Quinn uses expired Super 8, modern super 8 , and 16 mm film to capture a variety of different visual effects. Most of the movie is gritty and indecipherable. The horrors come at you in droves. Sometimes they’re blurry, barely at the periphery, showing you just enough to stir your mind into finishing the idea and image at play. Other times, horrifying actions are shown on screen in disturbing long takes that seemingly never end. When the old super 8 film comes into play, the movie takes on a whole new surreal feeling, bombarding the senses and really getting underneath the skin. Most dialogue happens in the form of interspersed poetry, barely heard, and distinctly sinister in tone. Indecipherable noises, and short growls crowd the soundscape and haunting music makes you feel like you’ll never feel safe again.
The movie veers on the line of overly pretentious and deeply meaningful and I could definitely see arguments for the former. I was deeply affected by the piece, and think it’s a horrifying trip for anyone that wants to explore the depravity of humanity, but can see how it can feel like meaningless torture porn to some people. If I didn’t see the advertising/marketing for the movie that told me it was supposed to be an experience of death, I might have been frustrated, but I knew what I was getting into. This is not a movie for everyone, but I think people with a taste for it will find themselves haunted by this piece for sleepless nights to come.
That being said, I think the path to the journey could be heavily improved. I get wanting to be ambiguous and unnerving, but the lack of subtitles makes it almost impossible to make out certain bits of dialogue. It’s a strange complaint and I wouldn’t fault for you think it’s nitpicking, but the movie is hard enough to find and is all about the meaning created through the experience, so being able to know the words is important. I found myself more distracted by trying to parse what was happening, but ignoring the words and just being scared by their recitation didn’t work for me that well.
Report Card
TLDR
Flesh of the Void is a movie for people that want to know what death as the ultimate horror would feel like. This piece is highly experimental and explores the most miserable depths of human existence, constantly bombarding the audience with unnerving noises and dialogue combined with surreal and disturbing imagery.
Rating
9.0/10
Grade
A
Go to Page 2 to view this review’s progress report .
Bill Skarsgard as It/Pennywise Jaeden Lieberher as Bill Sophia Lillis as Beverly Jeremy Ray Taylor as Ben Finn Wolfhard as Richie Jack Dylan Grazer as Eddie Wyatt Oleff as Stanley Chosen Jacobs as Mike Nicholas Hamilton as Henry
Release Date
2017
Language(s)
English
Running Time
135 minutes
A GOOD horror movie I could go see with my friends. That’s the sentiment I’d use to best describe my relation to It. After a few years without a solid mainstream hit likeThe Conjuringand Insidious , I was worried I’d never get to see a horror movie with my friends again. If you’ve read my reviews you know I have a taste for weird art-house movies. It’s a sentiment my friends usually don’t share, so most of my horror experiences are solo adventures. Whenever a horror movie is good and lends itself to being accepted by a wider audience, I take notice. It is exactly that kind of movie. This adaptation of King’s highly regarded novel blends genuine horror with an interesting one of a kind story to great effect. The movie simultaneously vivid for enough for fans who like more visual scares, but has enough subtext to keep the annoying self-proclaimed cinephile friend you have (like me) occupied.
The story follows the Losers club, a group of 7 kids living in Derry,Maine , who are forced to confront the shape-shifting entity, It. It, normally taking the form of Pennywise the clown, constantly morphs into the children’s worst fears, so as they find a way to deal with the supernatural presence they’re forced to confront their fears and doubts in the open. It’s a beautiful melding of coming-of-age and supernatural horror that takes relatable fears a lot of us have had and amplifies them to the nth degree. Having It’s manifestations be related to the characters at such an intimate level also keeps the subsequent scares memorable and more terrifying. Knowing there’s a malevolent entity that’s enjoying torturing you and your friends, waiting to eat you at the end of all of it would make any adult cry, let alone a middle school kid who’s just at the beginning of their introspective journey.
This is made all the better by how well (almost) each of the Losers is characterized and developed. Bill, the de-facto leader of the group is traumatized after losing his brother to It and feels a deep sense of personal guilty and responsibility to rectify the situation. Beverly, the ostracized and slut-shamed girl at school, finds a new home in the group as they give her a place to feel safe. Ben’s the nerd of the group and always has intel on what’s going on. Richie is the smart ass, constantly making light of the situation and providing the comic relief. Eddie, is a germaphobe with a serious case of smothering mother. Stanley is the scaredy cat of group and Mike is the home-schooled kid who also happens to be one of the only black people in Derry. Every performance is top notch and the characters genuinely feel like kids who are out and about trying to figure out what’s going on. They all feel like real kids with real problems going through a horrifying situation that they can’t control. Watching them grow and develop in the adversity is both exciting because of the nature of the dangers that await the group, and touching because of the way the situation reminded me of my childhood.
For the most part each character is given an appropriate time to develop. Seeing them as individuals and in a larger group for extended periods of time makes noticing the subtleties of their friendship more rewarding. The group doesn’t start off singing Hakuna Matata because it’s made up of multiple clusters of friends that intersect with common points of contact. Everyone has a different relationship with everyone else so they have to learn how to navigate their broader social environment. All that connects the group is their shared condition as outcasts. The combination of all the characteristics under one moniker, combined with the easily relatable themes, makes getting invested in the story easy. Hell, at some point in my life, I would have found myself in the Losers club and I’m sure I’m not the only one.
The most surprising aspect of the movie to me is just how scary Pennywise comes off as. It’s not just the special effects or the fact that the scares are intimately connected to the characters.It’s (no pun intended) the man under the makeup – Bill Skarsgaard. He absolutely sells Pennywise’s delight in torturing the children with how enthusiastically he throws himself in rushing at them or making fun of them with a litany of sarcastic jabs. He’s childlike in the way he laughs at his own jokes or the way he relishes in his “pranks”. It comes off as a perversion of innocence, which is exactly the point. Definitely one of the best horror villains and performances of the past decade.
Unfortunately, by making the movie more mainstream, especially in the use of cheap jump scare noises, the horror feel a lot less memorable or mesmerizing. It is scary and watching the creature torment the children as their worst possible fears is scary enough. I know jump scares are popular, and I’m not saying the movie needed to get rid of all of them, but I think it should’ve taken a more controlled approach to maximize the effect they have. Some of the It vs Loser sequences are genuinely unique and fun to watch. It’s a shame that they don’t get to shine on their own and get drowned out by a loud noise telling you to be scared. The third act also diminishes the tension of scare sequences by injecting random bits of humor that really ruined the tension that had been building up to then.
Certain characters get little to no love development wise and it makes them stick out like sore thumbs when compared to the excellent moments everyone else gets. I’m okay with the bully characters having less time to shine because the main cast is so large, but Mike got done dirty. I feel like he barely has time to grow and gel with the group and I think the interactions between him and the others could have been more interesting. The movie hints that there’s a racial dynamic at play, but it’s only ever mentioned by the bully and doesn’t feel like it’s as incorporated into the story. It’s a lot of missed potential that makes his inclusion feel odd.
REPORT CARD
TLDR
It manages to be unique while being mainstream enough to watch with friends. The clever coming-of-age story is relatable to everyone who ever grew up afraid of something, and the characters and their respective tribulations will get you invested in the story, no matter how wonky some events play out. Some themes and characters aren’t properly developed which hold the movie back from being a true masterpiece, but it’s a hell of a fun time regardless.
Rating
9.3/10
Grade
A
Go to Page 2 to view this review’s progress report .
