A bald eagle flies through the skies. Another bald eagle shows up behind the original. The two bald eagles fly through a cityscape……before flying towards the sun. The two bald eagles set the stage for Two Heroes. The duo appears as one and then separates throughout their flight before flying towards the sun.
A bald eagle soars through the skies in majestic fashion as a triumphant score plays in the background. The camera latches onto the winged creature which darts throughout the clouds; it’s revealed that in the shadows of eagle lay another. The two boards soar upwards to the bright, shining sun.
Casino King sign shines bright. An explosion happens at the casino. Two villains make their way from the casino with stolen money. The villains leap towards the sun and get ready to land on the car. Toshio punches the duo away from the car. Toshio assures the people behind them that they’re safe. Toshio generates bursts of wind to blow missiles up. The explosions do not faze Toshio. The villains disturb the peace and leap towards the sun while escaping. However, their journey is cut short when Toshio/All Might makes his appearance and accosts the duo. He assures the citizenry that that they have nothing to fear with him here.
We cut to a establishing shot of a sign for “Casino King”. The bright lights and colors of the sign hearken back to the sun, but this peace is quickly interrupted by an explosion; the rising score dissipates as two villains make their way out of the casino. They rampage through the streets and cause havoc at every turn. A family cowers in their car as the villainous duo jumps above the vehicle and threatens to crush it. But the blinding rays of the sun peer through the corner and the evildoers are blown away by a punch from a young, confident man who assures the family that there’s nothing to fear. This man, Toshio, is the superhero All-Might and he’s here to protect the day with a smile on his face.
Suddenly, the ominous score becomes amped and rock-and-roll styled as All-Might addresses the villains; he’s taken charge of the situation. The villains refuse to give up and shoot missiles at the hero in an effort to incapacitate him, but their efforts are doomed to failure. All-Might generates bursts of wind from his punches which knock the missiles away. However, the missiles turn out to be nothing more than a distraction to let the villains escape.
Dave and Toshio follow the villains. Toshio leaps out of the car and soars through the skies. Toshio deflects more missiles which eventually explode.All Might jumps out from the explosion in his superhero garb. All Might uses his “California Smash” on the dastardly duo. Dave looks up at All Might in admiration. All Might look towards the horizon as the sun illuminates him. The duo, like the eagles before them, soar into the skies towards new adventures. Like the two eagles, Toshio and Dave are a duo that flies and operates with one another. The former is the superhero, All Might, and the latter is his assistant and technician. All Might dispatches the villains with a smile on his face. Meanwhile Dave looks up to his friend and the symbol of peace with pride. The two friends fly off into the horizon to solve more crimes.
Thankfully, a high-tech, red sports-car enters the scene. Like the two eagles there are two heroes, one lying in the “wings” of the other waiting to be let loose. The driver, All-Might’s accomplice Dave, calls out to All-Might who then joins him in the vehicle to chase down the dastardly duo. All Might leaps from the car and soars towards the duo, flying through the sky in his newly adorned super-hero outfit complete with cape. While he bashes the criminals, Dave looks up and smiles. It’s clear that he sees a bright, future where justice is possible when he looks at All-Might high in the sky illuminated by the sun.
This heroic vision is revealed to be a dream, a memory of the past that the present emaciated All-Might is thinking about fondly. He’s woken from his daydream by Izuku, his protégé, who excitedly calls attention to I-Island, a floating mechanical island in the ocean. The island is world-renowned for being impenetrable by villains due to its security system which rivals even the most famous prisons. It’s revealed that All-Might has been invited to the island for a special event: a surprise visit to Dave set-up by the latter’s daughter, Melissa.
It’s at this point that Izuku gives a quick run-down of the status quo, providing newcomers to the franchise a context by which to evaluate the story to come[1]While I wouldn’t personally do the same, the nature of the film makes it a fine introduction to show to those persons nervous about investing in the more expansive series proper. This … Continue reading Many humans are now born with “quirks”, supernatural abilities which allow them to perform a variety of extraordinary tasks. Some use their quirks for the sake of the public good like All Might; they are heroes. Others use their quirks for the sake of their selfish desires; they are villains. Although All-Might has been able to serve as symbol of peace for decades in Japan, reducing the crime statistics by many-folds, an injury inflicted on him by his arch-rival has rendered him capable of only using his power for a few hours a day. Unable to achieve the same effect as he was able to do at his prime, All-Might chooses to transfer his quirk, “One For All”, to Izuku, selecting the young man as the flag-bearer of hope for a new generation.
All Might is surrounded by the people of I-Island who cheer and applaud him. All Might tells Izuku to keep the status of “One for All” a secret from Dave. A group of villains stand in the shadows watching over I-Island. The battle between perceptions start as soon as All Might and Izuku get onto the island. The crowd surrounding All Might demonstrate the importance of the latter’s position as symbol. He represents peace to the people and is loved as a result. However, the secrets behind his power have to be kept a secret, even from his best friend, Dave. Meanwhile, another group secretly plots to attack the island.
With the introduction finished, the teacher-student pair finally make it down to the island. All-Might activates the remnants of his quirk left over post-transfer so as to preserve his appearance as symbol of peace and heads out to face the public who quickly crowds and celebrates the world-renowned hero. Once the crowd disperses, All-Might takes his student aside and warns the latter that Dave knows nothing of his condition or the transfer. He asks Izuku to keep such discussion under wraps so as to not compromise Dave; those armed with the knowledge of All-Might’s actual condition are at risk for being targeted by nefarious forces who seek to gain leverage on the hero. Unfortunately, the peaceful visit is compromised as a group is revealed to be overlooking the island from the cover of the shadows. Far from being impenetrable, it seems that evil-doers have found a way to infiltrate the safe haven.
For fans of the franchise, the set-up feels familiar. Our heroes are placed in a seemingly safe location, but trouble waits for them at unsuspecting corners. However, conventional does not mean boring, and the film never cheapens out when it comes to telling its tale. Director Kenji Nagasaki, who is also in charge of directing the animated series proper, treats the film with the same respect as he does with the anime itself, giving what would otherwise be nothing more than generic fan-fare an identity which helps it feel like a natural part of the franchise as opposed to cash grab like so many other “non-canon”[2] By non-canon, I mean non-canonical story material that is not based on the original manga by Kōhei Horikoshi. anime-offshoot movies.
The new characters, primarily Melissa and Dave, along with the background of I-Island blend in naturally with My Hero Academia’s established milieu. Ideas from the canonical story, like the role of hero-assistance technology, get expanded in ways that the franchise has not explored previously without feeling discordant with what came before. Consequently, even though the film’s story beats are predictable, the manner in which they’re presented keeps them compelling for viewers. You can feel the difference in the film’s budget versus an episode of the anime during the action sequences which are rendered with such astounding detail that even simplistic punches feel heavy with impact.
Where the movie falters is in its primary antagonist who definitely fits the villain-of-the-week archetype. While the antagonist’s role in the narrative checks the requisite boxes, their background and characterization feel like a miss given the themes the film seeks to explore. From the introduction, it’s apparent that All-Might’s status as the symbol of peace is necessary to keep crime at bay. His inability to do the same is the reason he’s passed on his quirk to Deku. The latter must play the same role as symbol and as deterrent. However, until Deku is capable of harnessing “One For All ” as well as All Might, the latter must maintain his appearance. If the symbol of peace was to disappear, criminals would rein.
At a certain level, the film demonstrates that fidelity to such an idea, noble as it seems, places the onus for justice exclusively on the backs of one entity. If only one point in a system offers security, then that point being compromised can jeopardize the entire system. In this sense, I-Island’s status analogous to All-Might’s; it’s a beacon of security that provides a sense of stability. But as we know, that sense of security is nothing more than a façade; while the island’s inhabitants walk around jubilantly, villains lurk in the background waiting to wreak havoc. Just like All-Might’s power, the island can only handle so many issues and reaches a breaking point when its impenetrability is penetrated. Thus, the source of peace becomes the point at which it can break down. The question then becomes how one can establish a sustaining peace.
Unfortunately, while the film initially explores the way such ideas can become perverted and turned on their heads, it throws away said discussion in favor of a generic final antagonist who is evil because. Instead of using the final confrontation as a clash of ideologies, the film awkwardly sidesteps the discourse it sets up for a temporary battle and then lightly touches on those ideas in the aftermath . If 5-10 minutes spent on some of the smaller action set-pieces was alternatively utilized to prop up the antagonists’ ideological viewpoints, the final battle would have an emotional heft capable of matching the grandiose spectacle it sets out to present.
That being said, Two Heroes should offer more than enough for fans of the franchise. It may not push the boundaries as much as its premise allows, but it efficiently and adequately explores its ideas enough to give it a unique texture in relation to the franchise it’s based on. Other anime “original” movies based on globally popular franchises should take notes because this is how these films should be; they should offer vantage points to explore the franchise in manners the original source material can’t or doesn’t have the time to while retaining its own pace.
REPORT CARD
TLDR
My Hero Academia: Two Heroes breaks the mold for non-canonical anime films by taking itself as seriously as its source material. Every new idea explored in the film expands on threads from the franchise proper, making the transition from the series to the film seamless. While the film doesn’t explore its deconstruction of what heroism as much as I’d want, it should provide more than enough for fans of the series to digest.
Rating
B+
Grade
8.6/10
Go to Page 2for the for the spoiler discussion and more in-depth analysis. Go to Page 3 to view this review’s progress report .
Note: This review contains spoilers regarding the first 30 minutes of the film as opposed to the site’s usual benchmark of 10-20 minutes. The same effort towards sustaining the intrigue and momentum of the film, especially in its second and third acts, is maintained in this review, and all plot details revealed are just meant to be a springboard to discuss the scope of the work in better detail. Nothing discussed should undermine the “best” portions of the film or the many mysteries that keep the story engaging.
An image from Gone With the Wind.
Dr. Beuregard(Alec Baldwin) recites anti-black, white supremecist propaganda in the form of a faux documentary.
An image from The Birth of a Nation.
Dr. Beuregard(Alec Baldwin) forgets his dribble and asks for the lines again. Racist vitriol isn’t eloquent.
The camera pushes in on the camera projecting the footage behind Dr. Beuregard.
And then, in a brand new scene, continues to push in beyond a mountain plane.
Confirmation that the following story is a recollection of truth, a documentary turned narrative.
The title card appears.
Ron (John David Washington) walks into the place of the title card and looks up.
Minorities are encouraged to apply to the Colorado Police Force.
Ron (John David Washington) stares at the police recruitment sign with slight worry.
Ron (John David Washington) starts to adjust his hair under the sign.
BlacKkklansman’s opens with three separate introductions. The first two demonstrate the way art interacts with culture; the former molds the latter via its depictions of events and situations so much so that it becomes tantamount to truth. Because art and culture started with anti-black depictions, perspectives regarding black subjectivity are myopic and reinforce dominant narratives. This film is a response, an attempt to demonstrate a new depiction of black life, a history transformed into capital capable of galvanizing cultural attitudes.
A scene from Victor Fleming’s Gone With the Wind plays depicting a Confederate flag floating in the foreground. This is the first start. Then a faux documentary chronicling the evils of black “savages” and the desecration of white culture begins to play; the piece is narrated by Dr.Beuragard (Alec Baldwin), a man who spouts horrifically racist drivel but finds himself unable to remember the prejudiced verbiage, often breaking out of the documentary to ask for the specific lines. This is the second start. Finally, the camera pushes in on the projector playing the aforementioned starts. The camera’s forward momentum is carried through in the next shot as it glides over a Colorado mountain range. The film cuts to pavement and text appears, explaining to the viewer that the film they’re about to see depicts a real-life scenario. The title card pops in. The protagonist of our story, Ron (John David Washington), walks into the spot where the title card resided. He looks up at a sign from the Colorado Police Department encoring minorities to apply. He stares at the sign more intensely before fixing his hair and walking towards the police station. This is the third start.
Thus, director Spike Lee’s BlacKkklansman succinctly demonstrates its raison d’être: it’s a cinematic counter-response meant to reshape cultural attitudes regarding race relations. The first start opens on a “classic” of American cinema, establishing that even the foundations of our “culture” are predicated on a logic which valorizes a time-period where black people were not treated as human beings. The second start demonstrates the way such romanticization engenders tangible movement towards racialized violence. Beuragard’s documentary intermixes news-footage with clips from D. W. Griffith’s The Birth of a Nation, another film from America’s classic film canon filled with racist depictions, showcasing how fictional representations bleed into cultural discussions which affect people in tangible manners (ex: support for de-segregation). Even though Beauragard is inept as a presenter and can’t even remember his long-winded verbal absurdities, the power of his sound-bites combined with images imbued with cinematic power, give his words a persuasive power.
By taking the projector, which played white nationalist propaganda, back via the push-in of the camera, Lee is able to offer BlacKkklansman as a cinematic response to the canon; the third start comes from the same “source” as the first and second and can operate on the same playing field. Informing the viewer of the “real life” status of the narrative gives the film an authenticity that the documentary preceding it hopes to achieve, while the “traditional” presentation of the narrative gives it the same staying power as the cinematic classics it discusses. In this way, Blackkklansman is positioned as both historical and cinematic corrective, a step towards a restorative vision of the U.S.A.
The story proper follows Ron as he applies to the Colorado Police Department in an attempt to reform the system from the inside out. His interview process starts off professional enough but quickly diverges as his interviewers inform him of the prejudices at play in the department and the community, prejudices against having black officers. They double-check with Ron regarding whether or not he believes he’ll be able to keep himself in check in spite of potential racial jabs. He agrees and is subsequently hired.
Officer refers to a black prisoner as a “toad”.
Landers(Fred Weller) calls Ron a “toad”.
Landers(Fred Weller) smirks at Ron (John David Washington) knowing the latter won’t be able to retaliate.
Ron (John David Washington) karate chops the air once he’s alone to vent his frustration at the constant racism.
The connection between blackness and criminality is established right from the start. Criminals are referred to as “toads” and dehumanized. It’s no wonder then, given the population breakdown of the criminals, that racist attitudes are caked into the precinct itself. As Ron is forced to learn, anti-blackness is tolerated but responses against the same are unprofessional.
Unfortunately, his agreement is tested right off the bat. It’s clear from his fellow officers’ behaviors and demeanors that he’s unwelcome at the precinct. The reason is made obvious: to be black is to be criminal. Ron learns this the hard way when he’s made to handle criminal records. Other officers come in, ask for a “toad’s” file, and then give Ron the name of a criminal to fetch from the files. In an attempt to humanize the criminals, the people underneath the caricatures, Ron tries to combat the vernacular, explaining that his files document persons and not toads. But his attempts are met only with condescension and insult. A particularly racist officer, Landers, goes so far as to lose the dog whistles and come outright with the unsaid sentiment, calling Ron “Officer Toad” after getting his requested file. But Ron cannot respond. He cannot retaliate because to do so would be to risk expulsion. So, he waits for Landers to leave and proceeds to karate chop the air. Within the confines of the police station, he must remain civil while experiencing insult abound. Yet he persists.
Eventually his dedication pays off, or so it seems. Chief Bridges (Robert John Burke) calls him in to help the branch infiltrate a potentially dangerous group: Colorado College’s Black Student Union. Why? The group is planning on hosting a national civil rights leader, Kwame Ture (Corey Hawkins), who might rile the “good” black people up into violent spirits. Obviously, being the only black cop in the precinct, Ron is selected as the perfect target to infiltrate the session and report back on any expressions of violence. He’s trained by fellow Detectives Flip (Adam Driver) and Jimmy (Michael Buscemi) on proper procedure and has to perform his jive dialect for them in satisfying fashion before being allowed to leave to the conference.
Ron (John David Washington) gets ready to hear Kwame speak.
Kwame(Corey Hawkins) starts to speak as the camera pushes in on him.
Floating black faces from the audience become illuminated and fill the frame. They’re captivated by Kwame’s words and become reborn, taking center stage.
The camera continues to push on Kwame(Corey Hawkins) as he implores the black audience to love themselves.
Ron (John David Washington) is unable to understand himself and finds he’s more alienated from himself after the speech. He doesn’t place his first up because he doesn’t know what it means to affirm his blackness.
Ron (John David Washington) raises his first to blend in with the group, but his heart isn’t in the motion.
Ron experiences alienation hearing Kwame speak. As someone emulating a black persona, he feels out of place in his black flesh and finds himself unable to commit or turn away from what Kwame says. He finds himself at war with himself and what his identity entails.
After quickly acquainting himself with the Black Student Union’s president, Patrice (Laura Harrier), Ron makes his way in for Kwame’s monologue. Kwame speaks with emphatic passion as he tells the sea of black faces about the beauty inherent in their skin and the damaging manners by which they have inculcated attitudes against themselves. As his words ring true with the audience, Lee cuts to floating black faces, freed from the shackles of their predispositions and given an avenue by which to love themselves. However, Ron finds himself unable to do the same. The words have an impact on him, but he finds himself still trapped.
It makes sense. His presence at the rally is nothing but subterfuge. His liberated black persona is artifice meant to help him blend in. He’s a black man roleplaying black experience, so the conversation on accepting blackness as a lived and true experience breaks through the cracks between the mask he’s trying to put on and his true feelings underneath. By the end of the speech, Ron is the only one left keeping his fist down. He’s caught in thought. But this moment of reflection passes as Ron’s remembers his purpose for being at the rally. He raises his fist to blend in with the background, committing to the act.
Back in Chief Bridges office, Ron, Flip, and Jimmy ascertain that Kwame poses no threat, in spite of some of his incendiary remarks, but Bridges pushes back. It’s clear that he’s giving a gravity to the situation that he wouldn’t to other situations. The reason doesn’t need to be stated.
Ron (John David Washington) flips through the newspaper…
…and finds a Ku Klux Klan (KKK) advert within.
Walter(Ryan Eggold) responds to Ron’s call for admission.
Jimmy(Michael Buscemi), Flip (Adam Driver), and the other officers stare at Ron as he spouts racist drivel in an attempt to win over Walter.
Sergeant Trapp (Ken Garito) and Ron (John David Washington) persuade Chief Bridges(Robert John Burke) to allow the KKK infliltration to happen.
Ron (John David Washington) coaches Flip (Adam Driver) on how to act like him. Jimmy(Michael Buscemi) observes and offers feedback.
Ron finds an advert for the KKK in the newspaper and immediately gets to work investigating the organization. Despite being a more dangerous threat than the Black Student Union could ever be, Ron experiences pushback before finally getting approval to infiltrate the Klan.
But Lee decides to make that reason clear nonetheless. Ron is transferred to Flip and Jimmy’s division and is allowed to pursue investigations. He flips through a newspaper and finds an advert for the Ku Klux Klan (KKK). After calling the number advertised and getting a response from the local chapter leader, Walter (Ryan Eggold), Ron switches to a “whiter” accent and begins to lambast minorities in an effort to gain favor. While Walter is pleased with the racist tirade that would put Dr.Beuragard’s to shame with its comparative polish and fluidity, Flip and the other detectives in the room are shocked with the ease at which Ron is able to recite such vitriol. Alas, Ron’s lack of expertise comes home to roost as he accidentally mentions his real name to Walter before agreeing to meet him in person.
Unlike the Black Student Union, the Klan offers very little camouflage room for Ron, so his investigation into their affairs requires the help of a white-passing officer to act as his double, a “white” Ron. He goes with Sergeant Trapp (Ken Garito) to get Bridge’s approval for the mission but, unsurprisingly, when it comes to investigating the Klan, Bridges is less than enthused, claiming both a lack of necessity and manpower for the job. Ron and Trapp explain that the former will communicate with the Klan on the phone and serve as the primary liaison with the organization while another officer will serve as the “white” Ron and infiltrate the organization. Bridges eventually acquiesces but not before threatening Ron’s job if anything goes wrong.
The addendum is interesting because it reveals the inherent hypocrisy underlying Bridges conflicting orders. Despite claiming that Kwame and the Student Union are a dangerous threat, he’s fine with sending Ron in with no concerns regarding the latter’s safety. However, when it comes to sending a white-passing officer into an organization which he claims is not an active threat, he voices concerns about the dangers and makes it clear to Ron that loss in this circumstance is not permitted. Either he believes that the Union isn’t as dangerous as the Klan and/or he believes that harm done to Ron isn’t as severe as damage done to a white-passing officer. Regardless of what is driving Bridges decisions, it’s clear the reason is racially motivated.
Nonetheless, with mission approval acquired, Ron chooses Flip to be his doppelgänger. Now the rookie is in charge of teaching his superior on how to act in the situation, a reversal of the duo’s introduction to one another. Thus, “Ron”, the composite of a black man’s interpretation of a white man and a white-passing man’s interpretation of that interpretation, is born and can proceed towards infiltrating the Klan. Consequently, Ron, who has formed a camaraderie with Patrice due to his black persona, is forced oscillate between two radically different worlds, one black and one white, that both cause him to feel alienated regarding himself.
It’s no wonder then that this story is the one Lee has picked for the purposes of staging an dialogue with America’s film canon. Ron’s story examines the way institutions and culture shape and cement identity in needless opposition to one another. As he gets deeper with both Patrice and the Klan, he’s forced into introspection and has to determine what being black, especially within the confines of the USA, entails in regards to his orientation towards the world. Given the introduction which establishes that black cultural identity has been forcefully interpellated by a “white” romanticization which renders them criminal and deviant, the move towards depicting a tale of black agency finding itself in the world is more urgent than ever. If media has helped establish an cultural attitude, then it can help change the same, and Lee demonstrates via Ron’s eventual journey not only how those changes could materialize but also the repercussions of continuing to leave harmful representations unchallenged.
The beauty of the film is that Lee is able to have this dialogue without sacrificing entertainment value; the plot never lags or lets up, remaining compelling from start to finish. A tense encounter with the Klan is followed by mocking conversation with the organization that reveals just how out of touch with the world they are. By swapping between Ron and Flip’s respective journeys as Ron at critical junctures, Lee is able to move from comedic to tense with ease, ensuring that no narrative thread ever overstays its welcome.
Ron (John David Washington) gets on the phone with David.
Ron (John David Washington) converses with David Duke (Topher Grace) in split-screen fashion. Both men are shot at canted angles.
Walter(Ryan Eggold) converses with Ron (John David Washington) in split-screen.
Even the dialogue scenes are shot with a pizzazz that reinforces the absurdity of the conversations Ron ends up having with Klan members. Split-frames demonstrate the way perspectives shift between the parties.
The story switches only work because Lee never phones in any of dialogue scenes involving Ron and the Klan, treating them with the same regard as the thriller set-pieces involving Flip. When Ron starts to get more intimate with the clan, his phone-calls with key members are shot at canted angles or in different split-screen configurations to keep visual interest up and to demonstrate the shifting tides of understanding between the relevant parties. The already crisp and hilarious dialogue is thus accentuated and made explicitly cinematic. And the decision is important. The conversations happening are absurd. Just think about it. They involve a black man trying to achieve a heightened level of camaraderie with KKK members who love his persona while openly calling for his death in reality. It’s morose and absurd and the presentation of the situation reflects that context.
Very few films are able to be so commercially entertaining while retaining poignant themes and Spike Lee should be commended for being able to achieve both feats in such exhilarating fashion in this picture. BlacKkklansman grips you with its intriguing, but real narrative but leaves you ruminating by the end of its run-time. It’s an meaningful addition to a myopic film canon that opens the space for discourse, allowing for the possibility of more multifaceted cultural understanding. Perhaps in a century, just like Gone With the Wind and The Birth of a Nation, BlacKkklansman will be played as an exploration of what America can truly mean.
REPORT CARD
TLDR
BlacKkklansman is that rare film that manages to stay entertaining while retaining a poignant and relevant set of themes for viewer’s to mull around about. While the real-life story of a black police officer infiltrating the KKK sounds interesting on its own, the film manages to take the narrative and present it as a response to a predominantly white film-cannon, offering an alternative view of what being black and/or American can and should look like.
Rating
10/10
Grade
A+
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 .
Christopher Abbott as Reed Mia Wasikowska as Jackie Laia Costa as Mona
Release Date
2018
Language(s)
English
Running Time
81 minutes
The camera pans through a beautiful cityscape that feels artificial and out of touch with reality as the song “L’eredità & agguato nel buio” from the giallo movie The Red Queen Kills Seven Times plays in the background . As the camera gets closer to an open window on a building, the movie cuts to a baby cooing against a red backdrop as an ice pick slowly makes its way closer to to its face. The hand holding it retracts away to reveal an anxious looking man , Reed, who’s then immediately called by his wife, Mona, to come back to bed. Unable to now finish his task, he goes off and chokes himself, a pained expression enveloping his face. After enough time has passed, he goes back to his wife who caresses his head tenderly in an attempt to help him destress. She may not know that he was trying to kill their child, but she does know something is disturbing him. However, just as he gets comfortable their child starts to cry in the background. The noise immediately disturbs him, and his face turns from calm to agitated once again. As he goes to comfort his child, the newborn child says to him in a demonic voice , “You know what you have to do.” It’s at this point that Reed realizes that he has to kill to satiate the urge within and makes plans to hire and murder a prostitute. Unfortunately for him, his dreams to get away with the perfect murder go off the rails when the escort service he’s contacted sends him an unhinged and sporadic woman, Jackie, who threatens to unravel his plan at every step of the way.
This is Nicolas Pesce’s sophomore effort, Piercing ,a cocktail of psychosexual plotlines, imperceptible characters, and a distinct sense of black humor. It’s a love letter to giallo movies that seeks to deconstruct the sub-genre from the inside out, while mixing it with the confusing battle of the sexes from Takashi Miike’s Audition (which makes sense given that both Audition and Piercing are based on books written by Ryū Murakami). Traditional giallo movies follow a fairly standard plotline – there’s a brutal series of murders by an masked black-gloved killer, a journalist-type character tries to figure out what’s going on with or without the presence of some sidekicks, and the killer is eventually revealed with a brief explanation of the trauma that caused them to act out the series of murders. Along the way are psychosexual plotlines, trauma, mystery, tension, and a healthy amount of visual violence. Oh and of course, I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention the traditional soundtrack – a combination of progressive rock, jazz, disco, electric, and epic orchestral elements put together to keep the audience energized and invested. Piercing lovingly takes all these components and flips the script by placing the audience on the side of the giallo killer, Reed, as he desperately tries to solve the source of his trauma by killing a prostitute under a peculiar set of conditions. By removing the killer’s mask and placing them front and center, Pesce is able to showcase the absurdity and complexity that drives the genre. The presence of an unknowable entity in Jackie serves to take the mysterious nature of desire that’s normally only present in the backdrop of previous gialli and bring it to the center of discussion, forcing Reed, and subsequently the audience, to examine the way modes of psychosexuality are constructed.
As evidenced by his baby talking earlier, Reed’s delusions play a significant part of the word of the movie, threatening to infect every aspect of it. Images of strange and artificial cityscapes are juxtaposed against real backdrops to suggest that artificiality is always present – a fantasy that covers the trauma within.
An artificial cityscape that looks to be painting of sorts.
Reed(Christopher Abbott) helping Jackie( Mia Wasikowska) out of the cab.
The cityscape transforms from looking constructed and artificial to real and concrete. The juxtaposition between the alternating cityscapes showcases the way fantasy pervades and transforms the real world. It might not be immediately noticeable, but the ambiance it generates is unnerving and reveals that everything is not what it seems.
The soundscape is filled with diegetic (in the world of the movie , things the characters interact with) and non-diegetic (the external elements of the movie, things that are for the audience) that constantly bleed into one another, reflecting the way that psychotic delusion infects the world but is built from a trauma stemming from that world at the same time. For example, Reed practices what he’s going to do to the prostitute sent to him by physically going through the motions, an imaginary roleplay if you will. As he cuts, and saws, and violates we see nothing on the screen but we can hear every single crack and flow of blood – a clear indication of what Reed is hearing in his mind. In the backdrop is some nice calming music that feels at complete odds with what’s going on (think high class elevator music). At first glance this soundtrack feels non-diegetic, a score meant to elicit a laugh from the audience because of it’s sharp contrast with Reed’s intended actions. However, as he finishes his walkthrough the score is revealed to be part of his mental soundscape as well, becoming dimmer and more muffled as he gets more nervous about what he’s going to do. Along with moments like these which are spread throughout the movie, Reed’s more overt delusional episodes, and Jackie’s general imperceptibility, the movie constantly forces the audience to ask what’s real and piece together the character’s respective desires like a detective getting to the bottom of the mystery, effectively placing them in the role of the traditional giallo detective. It’s not about who’s doing what, but why are they doing what they’re doing.
The sadomasochistic sexual playground the characters interact with each other in opens the perfect space for desire and its exploration. Initially, Reed brings up the idea of S&M to have an excuse to tie Jackie up so he can finish her off, but as the movie unravels the power dynamic inherent in such a relationship is given room to evolve. Sex and violence are staples of gialli and the movie transforms them from merely visually striking elements into genuine mode of communication. Sadism and masochism are orientations towards pleasure and the Other that elicits it. Why does a character like to be beaten in one way? Why does another like to submit? Why are relationships filled with a sense of ambiguity and mystery? It’s all due to some kind of past experience that’s become coded in the flow of desire that subconsciously drives the subject towards their intended action. S&M allows this hidden desire to sublimate and helps to explain the subject and their trauma in a meaningful way. It’s this move that makes every moment of sexual tension or expressive violence more than what it appears. It’s not just shock and excess for the sake of it – it’s an attempt at revealing something more intimate and personal about the subjects at the center of such actions. Without a partner to tango with, be it to inflict violence on or to have sex with, nothing can come to pass because there’s nothing to incite and push desire to the forefront. This is reflected in the movie’s constant use of split-screens which reinforce that both partners in the act are equally important and have a role to play in constructing themselves and one another. Meaning can only be constructed once the two of them interact with one another in an dance for and of power.
The movie uses split screens to highlight the way the characters intrude onto one another lives and shifts the course of their actions. Jackie( Mia Wasikowska) on the left brings to light Reed’s (Christopher Abbott) desires on the right and vice versa.
Speaking of the partners, the movie entirely hinges on the backs of Abbott and Wasikowskawho have to sell their characters’ game of constantly (re)volving interpretative cat-and-mouse. The former exudes general anxiety with his nervous mannerisms and voice that threatens to go to an indescribably whisper at points as he tries gain control of the situation. His nervous energy is present in the way he breathes deeply and in how his eyes dart and move in confusion and worry as he tries to piece together what to do next. He’s a clump of paranoid trepidation that occasionally laughs and smiles as his submerged self slowly comes to the forefront. Meanwhile, the latter is imperceptible, switching from flirty to batshit crazy to seductive without missing a beat. It’s almost impossible to get a read on her as she coyly asks questions one moment and threatens to shock both Reed and the audience with some excessively gratuitously actions the next. The two of them play off each other in an off-putting romantic fashion that constantly feels like it will break apart into something far more terrifying or evolve into something more cutesy, as they circle one another.
Jackie( Mia Wasikowska) informs Reed( Christopher Abbott) that she’s “onto him”.
Jackie( Mia Wasikowska) and Reed (Christopher Abbott) embrace in a moment of levity that’s shot upside down to showcase the shift in the couple’s dyanmic.
Jackie( Mia Wasikowska)and Reed (Christopher Abbott) go through a series of transformations going from distrust, to questioning, to love, and everything in between as they constantly posture for a better foothold in the power dynamic.
However, in spite of my praises, the movie does partially fall into the trap it critiques by making the references to the character’s respective traumas and reasons for action too obtuse. The joke about many gialli is that the killers’ motivations are threadbare and only present to help piece together the grandiose kill sequences. While I don’t think the movie fits that description, I can’t help but feel that it plays the characters’ traumas and desires too safe. In both of their cases, there’s a litany of clues that help piece together profiles that give a subtle glimpse behind the veil. For example, there are a plethora of moments where Reed’s anxiety, meticulous attention to detail and procedure, and the murder he’s committed to do are derailed and forced to adapt to the whim’s of his unpredictable victim leading to a variety of horrifying yet comedic scenes that’ll get us to ask why he’s acting in such a peculiar fashion but never go far enough as to give us information to answer them in a satisfying way. I think Pesce could’ve extracted more from these situations without giving up the comedy or ambiguity he was going for. Obviously the movie can’t reveal everything – that would ruin the fun and make the themes less precise. It’s just that the few reveals that do happen feel too surface level in spite of their sometimes surreal presentation. Slightly more information or exploration would help the audience fill in the elliptical scenes and provoke deeper and more nuanced questioning and analysis. As it is the movie is a lot of fun and is tightly put together, but I can’t help feeling it would be a more accessible homerun if it spent more time exploring the characters’ fractured pasts with a bit more depth in the vein of something like Audition.
As a result, this is a movie that I can’t recommend to every horror fan. If you like your movies more visceral than cerebral and are unfamiliar with gialli, a lot of what the movie does might come off as too strange or pretentious. There’s no clear answers to what really drives the movie’s duo and if you want those answers front and center you’ll end up feeling disappointed. Likewise, the subtle way the movie plays with the sub-genre can only be appreciated if you’re a fan of those movies. I first saw Piercing after watching Pesce’s debut, The Eyes of My Mother, a much darker and more universally palatable horror that really gets under your skin. Coming into this from that was a strange shift, because of how much more stylized and funny this movie turns out to be. After going on a huge gialli binge earlier this year (2020) comprised of watching all of Argento’s classics (Tenebrae, Deep Red, Opera) along with a healthy heaping of other fan favorites (Blood and Black Lace, The Red Queen Kills Seven Times, Don’t Torture a Duckling, and so on) I’ve come to love the sub-genre and all it’s trashy and classy components. Watching Piercing again with a knowledge and appreciation of what gialli are about and their respective elements makes me truly appreciate what Pesce is going for. For example, the score heavily samples/uses music from some of the aforementioned classics, and if you recognize the tracks, you appreciate what’s been curated and how it’s been used. For instance, Goblin’s (one of Argento’s most famous musical collaborators) heavy hitters are only used during important moments between Reed and Jackie. “Profondo Rosso” starts blaring as the movie uses a split-screen to chronicle the first time the two of them meet, using the more iconic and bombastic song to signify the importance of what’s happening. This music can enjoyed by someone who’s never seen gialli , but it takes on a new level of depth if you know where it’s coming from. So if you’re a gialli fan and enjoy movies that play with cerebral and surreal moments over more visceral and direct ones, this is the movie for you. If not, you might end up frustrated with the way the story unravels and proceeds.
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TLDR
Piercing is a darkly-comedic and intensely quizzical love letter to gialli that deconstructs the sub-genre from the inside out. By placing the audience on the side of an aspiring murderer who’s forced to contend with an equally strange and powerful potential victim, the movie creates an effective backdrop to explore trauma, sexuality, and communication in innovative and interesting ways. The visual design is filled with paintings and the soundscape goes from diegetic to non-diegetic constantly to induce a state of confusion in the viewer, forcing them to piece together what’s real and what’s fantasy. The score features classics from gialli like Deep Red and should get your head bopping even if you’re not familiar with the context or importance of the music. If you’re a gialli lover who enjoys cerebral movies that don’t give you all the answers, you’ll love what Pesce is doing with this wholly unique horror entry.
Rating
9.2/10
Grade
A
Go to Page 2 for the spoiler discussion. Go to Page 3 to view this review’s progress report .
Luana Velis as Luz Jan Bluthardt as Dr. Rossini Julia Riedler as Nora Nadja Stübiger as Bertillon Johannes Benecke as Olarte Lilli Lorenz as Margarita
Release Date
2018
Language(s)
German, Spanish
Running Time
77 minutes
The movie opens on a receptionist who sits behind his desk and slowly does his work. A slow paced synth score plays in the background as if to set the tone. After a little bit, a young woman walks into the reception area, her shoulders drooping and her general appearance indicating a fatigue. She slowly meanders around the location and eventually comes to the vending machine at which point she decides to buy a drink. The score picks up and gains a serious energy as a siren noise penetrates the slow beat. The girl, Luz, walks towards the receptionist and aggressively asks him ,”Is this how you wanna live your life? Is this seriously what you want? ” He looks up at her and signals that he needs a moment. He looks up and indicates to her he’s ready to hear her at which point she repeats what she said before, this time her voice becoming distorted and terrifying. Her words echo and reverberate all around as the title card comes up.
Luz (Luana Velis) enters the reception area as if in a daze and confronts the receptionist after a 4 minute wait. The whole time the camera stays still letting the audience become immersed into the story’s world.
This is Tilman Singer’s Luz, a slow paced story that harkens back to Euro horrors of old in the vein of something like Zulawski’s Possession. It’s slow, methodical, and focused on immersing the audience in an ambiance more so than telling a straightforward story. The opening scene seems short in theory, but it plays out slowly over a period stretching a little longer than 4 minutes – an uninterrupted shot that gives the audience a chance to fully immerse themselves in what’s going to happen while giving away almost nothing of what’s going on. It’s eventually revealed that Luz has entered a police station and is immediately taken in for questioning due to her bruised appearance and strange behavior. Her interrogators include an authoritative chief named Bertillon, a translator going by Olarte, and Dr. Rossini, a hypnotist and psychologist of sorts.
Unbeknownst to them however, a supernatural force is also invested in Luz, albeit for different reasons, and intervenes in the ongoing interrogation. What does it want? Luz’s love and affection – a relationship between the corporeal and the demonic. Thus the stage is set for a movie that’s part police procedural as the law enforcement agents try and get to the bottom of the truth of what happened to Luz and part possession love story as the demonic entity tries to usurp the process and make Luz engage in communion with it. The interweaving of these storylines enables Singer to deconstruct the commonly held ideas about possession, as the spirit does not seem to harm Luz (as is common in possession based movies) but ,rather, tries to make the confused cab driver hers in an intimate sense. Given that the primary method the interrogators use to investigate the past is hypnotizing Luz and probing her innermost thoughts, the movie asks the question if possession is any different from the way we violate others by forcing expectations of proper behavior on them and punishing them for violations of the same. Is hypnosis done for the sake of finding the truth really better than having a body enveloped by some alternative power? Is submission to some kind of code, whether it be religious or legal, distinct from a supernatural exchange of power? By mixing the distinct storylines together, the movie seeks to investigate what the nature of communication, reception, agency really means.
Like the opening scene suggests, some lines are said by characters without a context by which to make sense of them. Luz’s outbursts at the receptionist feel odd because they indicate a sense of familiarity with the recipient. Why ask such invasive questions about someone if you know nothing about them? This idea bleeds naturally into both the intrusive nature of hypnosis and possession but also communication in general. When we speak we attempt to convey a certain meaning meant to elucidate our thoughts and feelings. However, there’s always a disjunct in what we mean to say and what we actually say. Freudian slips, misinterpretations, and the like plague everyday conversation revealing that communication isn’t as easy as it’s made out to be. We only have control over our words, but we have no control over how others perceive them. If I talk to a friend in public, it’s possible they misunderstand me. It’s also possible they understand me, but a random stranger walking by doesn’t understand me. The interpretative chain goes on and on as every utterance can take on a different meaning based on who’s listening and what information they have about the speaker and their respective circumstances. This is the heart of what the movie seeks to explore as sentences and phrases are constantly repeated by different characters in different ways in different contexts.
Words and phrases constantly echo and reverberate in strange and disorienting ways. The camera will go to a close-up of a character’s mouth and words will be heard, but the respective character’s mouth won’t move. Luz speaks in Spanish but her interrogators are German, so each of her lines is initially uttered with no subtitles confounding the viewer, until Olarte repeats her words a few seconds later creating another discrepancy between what we see and what we hear. When Luz goes under for hypnosis, she plays the role of multiple characters and speaks as though she’s multiple people creating a sense of confusion, as the translations on top of her rapid switching between different point of views becomes more difficult to break apart. At times sound fades out. At other times it gets much louder. Most of the while, there’s always an evocative synth score playing in the background adding to the auditory chaos. It’s affective audio mixing and gives the soundscape and impressionist feeling, almost as if the words matter less than the feelings behind them. It’s an experiment that could go disastrously poor, but instead gives full life to the themes and ideas inherent in the story by placing the audience in the middle of the communicative battleground where meaning is constantly being carved out.
Matching this chaotic sound design is immaculate set design and editing. The movie primarily takes places in one location, but with the way flashbacks and clever set pieces are used nothing ever feels stale. This is most evidenced during the hypnosis portions of the movie. The camera constantly shows the shift between where Luz is mentally and what her actual surroundings are like. As she re-enacts the cab driving accident that led her to come to the station, we see glimpses of the real situation coming through the fray. Lighting and camera shifts show the way her past forces itself into the present. In a beautiful demonstration of the way the two intermingle, the camera shows Luz’s passenger in the backseat of her “car” through a mirror, provided by the officers to help create a sense of immersion, while everything around her remains the same.
Luz (Luana Velis) “driving” under the hypnosis of Dr. Rossini (Jan Bluthardt). In the begginig the camera is positioned to show Luz looking the right with her face in the mirror. As the session progresses, the camera shifts perspective and shows Luz looking towards the left with her passenger Nora’s (Julia Riedler) reflection now taking up the mirror. The subtle transition marks the way Luz’s vision leaks into reality and demonstrates the shift in agencies she experiences.
As the session becomes more intense, the interrogation room becomes more and more misty eventually turning into to a thick impenetrable haze – a reflection of the miasma that surrounds the discourse being cultivated in the room. Set pieces from earlier flashbacks integrate themselves into the room, demonstrating that an effective script and smart set design is all that’s needed to create an truly immersive story. It helps that movie is shot on 16MM which gives every scene a truly gritty and rugged feeling tying all these moments together in an aesthetic fashion.
The strand holding all these elements together is the multifaceted performances given by the small, but highly talented, cast of actors. Luana Velis is the focus of the story and gives life to the enigmatic titular character. From her early and disturbing behavior to the way she becomes laid back and calm during the early stages of her hypnosis, she demonstrates a full range of emotions. Watching her pretend to drive her cab is a treat to see, because it demonstrates how subtle and precise movements are all that’s needed to convey an effective illusion. The way she bops her head to the imaginary radio in her car along with the way she breaks by slamming the pedals matches up so well with the accompanying driving sound effects. It’s hard to believe that she’s not actually hypnotized. Likewise Bluthardt and Riedler give wholly emphatic performances that demonstrate the duplicities of their respective characters. They have to switch and take on multiple different roles to sell central ideas in the movie, and they manage to do so in a way that’s genuinely unnerving. Bluthardt in particular manages to go to some dark and disturbing places with an ease that gets under the skin. I’d love to say more, but I don’t want to give too much away.
My biggest issue with the movie is that in focusing so heavily on Velis, Bluthardt, and Riedler’s characters it loses the potential of Stübiger and Benecke’s characters. Both Bertillon and Olarte seem important from the beginning, but they’re slowly pushed to the sideline as the plot unravels, which feels like a shame given what they potentially offer to the story. The former is a powerful and assertive chief , while the latter is a more timid and religiously uptight translator. Given the thematic dynamic involving supernatural power, possession vs hypnosis, and communication it feels like they could have had a bigger role in fleshing out some of the ideas. For example, there’s one moment where a hypnotized Luz engages in some sacrilege and Olarte refuses to translate given his religious upbringing. Bertillon’s response is just to confusingly ask if her translator is serious about the refrain. This moment could’ve explored a power dynamic between legality and religion and the power of uttering something profane, but instead it’s brushed aside to get the focus back on Luz and Dr. Rossini. The movie is a crisp 77 minutes (a little under if you include the credits), so it’s not like its overly long and couldn’t fit in these moments. That being said, the story is so tight and well structured that these omissions don’t hurt as much as they make you wonder what could’ve been. It’s a strange thing to criticize a movie by saying “I love it, but I want more.” , but with how great the movie is I can’t help but wonder how much more staggering it could’ve been if it fleshed these ideas out more.
However, in spite of my praise, this is not a horror movie I would recommend to everyone. It’s slow, methodical, and very much in the old-school European art-house vein. This is a meditation on communication, power, and the way our attempts at reaching out to one another are always caught in a matrix of interpretation – a matrix that is only partially controlled by us. From the subdued, yet evocative visual style to the inspired soundscape, the movie imbues every painstakingly long scene with an ambiance that will completely hypnotize audience members who are willing to give themselves to the it.
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TLDR
Luz feels like a movie from a different age, one that’s more focused on making the audience feel something than giving a clear narrative with answers at every turn. The way it investigates communication is brilliant and makes effective use of both the possession and police procedural elements of its narrative. Combined with strong compositions, effective set pieces, and a brilliant sound design the movie oozes charisma and a creepy ambiance that old-school horror fans will love. Those viewers who are okay with a slower pace, less plot driven, and more mood drive story will find something special in Tilman’s deconstruction of the supernatural possession based genre.
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 .
Sofia Boutella as Selva Romain Guillermic as David Souheila Yacoub as Lou Kiddy Smile as Daddy Claude Gajan Maull as Emmanuelle Thea Carla Schøtt as Psyché
Release Date
2018
Language(s)
French, English
Running Time
96 minutes
A woman crawls in the snow leaving bloody markings wherever her body moves. The camera follows her ragged, desperate movement and swirls around her as her body imprints a set of bloody snow angels into the previously white and pure backdrop. The camera slowly pans down passing over a tree, a torrent of branches unfolding in a rhizomatic pattern – an mazelike structure with infinite openings and endings.
The camera moves from the first image to the next in a nice and steady pan down, highlighting that the bloody snow-angel making figure can be interpreted in a plethora of ways, as diverse as the rhizomatic branches of the tree.
Words pop up on the screen informing us the movie is dedicated to “makers who are no longer with us” before indicating that the movie is based on a real event that happened in France, during the winter of 1996. The text “existence is a fleeting illusion” pops up on the screen for a split second, its appearance as fleeting as the message it provides. Then the credits start to play. These first 3 minutes of Gaspar Noé’s climax tell the story of the entire movie while revealing absolutely nothing about what’s to come. A brief impression – violence, beauty, movement, text, beginning, ending, climax – that informs that audience that they are in fact watching a movie, not an illusion of reality.
The postmodern bent continues as the movie cuts to an old fashioned television set , one that you’d see back in ’96, surrounded by a collection of Noé’s favorite books and movies. Titles like Zulawski’s Possession and Argento’s Suspiriaare present, letting you know the auteur’s influences and future direction. The screen shows the audition tapes of dancers who are trying out for a troupe. They’re questioned by two off screen presences, one of whom is Noé himself – a director who quite literally places himself in the movie, reminding us that the director’s voice is as part of the movie as anyone else.
Psyché (Thea Carla Schøtt) gives her interview on the TV screen surrounded by Noé’s favorite books and movies on both sides. Media within media – this is postmodern filmmaking that informs the audience that they’re watching a movie and the director is very much involved in it.
The dancers are asked a series of questions involving their relationship to dance, the meaning of what they do, what experiences they’ve had, what they look forward to, and so on. Each dancer only talks for a few moments, giving the audience a brief impression of them and their interests, as their answers reveal the importance of dance as a method of experiencing life and joy – a survival mechanism that lets the body transform into something else. They talk about drugs, sex, sexuality, and the way those elements permeate the dance scene turning the discussion and interview into one about dance as an assemblage – a mechanization of multiple moving parts interacting with the desire of the dancers. Like the tree shown in the introduction, dancing is a rhizome that’s infinitely malleable.
As if to demonstrate this thought the movie cuts from the interviews to a beautifully choregraphed dance sequence that showcases the talent of the dancers. Energetic music pulses through the background setting the stage for the wonderous number that’s about to commence. The camera glides and dips around from multiple different angles without ever cutting, reflecting the way bodies move in an constant ebb and flow among and within each other. Multiple bodies coalesce into a singular entity showcasing the transformative power of dance as a way to break down ones barriers. Finally the group breaks and the pseudo-protagonist of our movie, Selva, proclaims “God is with us”, indicating that the creativity and beauty of the dance piece is a form of spiritual praxis.
These two stills from the fantastic dance sequence show the body as an assemblage as each individual gives way and comes together to create a moving, writhing entity that feels entirely whole. The camera deftly navigates the dance troupe showcasing them from multiple angles to highlight this idea of difference in and out of sameness.
Now that the main piece is done, the dancers mingle about one another celebrating their achievement with a festive and joyous party. They drink sangria from the punch bowl and engage in celebration at their accomplishments. The camera follows members of the party (primarily Selva) as everyone interacts with one another. The movie takes the time to cut between different characters conversing with one another, giving the audience a chance to let their impressions of the characters from earlier fill out and grow. There’s an impromptu nature to the dialogue which gives it an earnest realness and helps serve as a contrast to the more extreme intrusions the movie has forced/will force upon us. After a while, the movie cuts to a long individual dance montage, where the dancers show themselves off as their peers crowd around them in a circle cheering whoever is dancing on. This will be the last reprieve before the terror of the movie sets in. At the end of the dance, the credits play again- another beginning, another ending, another climax.
The movie births a new scene that comprises the brunt of the run time and zooms in on a cup of sangria being taken from a pitcher. The focus on the drink is important, because unknown to the characters, the sangria is spiked with LSD and turns the peaceful and energetic party into a chaotic hellscape.
The sangria is a player in the process , helping each dancer lose their mask to reveal another self within. The camera showcases it’s a key agent in the depravity that unfolds.
Characters start to lose any and all inhibitions as they become increasingly prone to acting on emotion as opposed to any semblance of reason. They realize something is wrong and a group of them desperately try and figure out who spiked the sangria. The ensuing witch hunt is horrifying to watch, as characters are brutalized by mob style accusations and judgements. Meanwhile, other characters drift off in the background, some of them dancing as though the events occurring in other portions of the dance hall are of no importance to them while others wander aimlessly, struggling to keep an internal coherence.
All the while the neon colors bursting through every shot become threatening as opposed to comforting, highlighting the chaos of the setting. The dance music which previously felt so upbeat and energizing transforms into a pulsating terror, not because the songs or their tempo themselves change, but because the situation they’re playing in is so radically different. At one point, Sofia Boutella channels her inner Isabelle Adjani and performs her own rendition of the infamous Possession subway scene – one of the instances of Noé’s earlier winks to the audience coming to life in his own movie.
Selva (Sofia Boutella) channels Isabelle Adjani in this homage to Possession by Andrzej Żuławski. The chaotic way she throws her body around fits with the energy and mood of the movie once the sangria hits and also serves as a nice callback to the opening audition scene.
As her character struggles to find footing in the topsy-turvy environment, the camera suddenly turns upside down. The dancers who looked so majestic earlier turn into hellish figures, evoking images of gargoyles and other creatures of the night. A heaven turned into hell.
Bodies seem like demonic entities when filmed upside down and dancing, fully lost in a rhythm and energy that assaults the senses. The world is as upside down as everyone feels and the embrace of chaos transforms the dancers.
The story of Climax is the story of the Earth – a place of beauty and wonder that goes through bouts of chaos. The dancers represent the different facets of humanity – the good, the bad, the ugly, and the sublime. Their introductions at the beginning of the movies are their representations of themselves – a persona they inhabit and may genuinely believe is indicative of who they are. Dancing is their method of engagement, a way of living among and with each other. It can be beautiful and a sight to see or horrifying and something the eyes want to avert away from. The dancers’ deterioration is not so much a comment on drugs as it is on the hidden desires that lay buried beneath the masks we place. For some of us those desires are ugly, violent, and brutal. For others they’re beautiful, quiet, and loving. Noé ensures this message is clear by ensuring that some of the characters do not partake in the sangria. Their behavior matching those of their peers reflects that these transformations in personality are not substance based, but rather another side, a birth of a new self marked by the death of some other self. The movie even tells us this directly. Near the start of the movie the words “birth is a unique opportunity” pop on the screen. Near the end of the movie the words” death is an extraordinary experience” show up. Life and death- two sides of the same coin – an interplay everything and everybody constantly goes through because stability is fleeting.
The image on the right says “Birth is a unique opportunity” , while the image on the left says “Death is an extraordinary experience” albeit upside down. Slides with expressions constantly interrupt the movie like this to offer some poetic aphorism before disappearing and letting the narrative run its course. Each is individually stylized to bring home the point of the message being presented.
The constant interruptions of sections of the movie by either the words or by the presence of new credits tells the audience that every act should be seen as the birth of a new story. Every story has a beginning, middle, and end with its own respective climax. As the movie demonstrates near the end of its runtime, the scene we see at the start of the movie is really the end- a story that starts with a climax and ends with a climax. For what is a climax? A culmination and development of a thread into something spectacular. But if everything lives and dies, if every moment is the birth of something new and the death of what came before, then every second is a climax of its own sort. This is the beauty of the movie – it demonstrates this idea in every way possible, from the structure of the story to the way scenes play out. It’s all a climax and as such it’s all open to the possibility of creativity and/or chaos.
Dance is the vehicle by which the movie explores this idea and Noé uses his impeccable technical skill to translate this idea into an experience. One does not walk away from Climax without going through some intense feelings, whether those feelings are of excitement at the beauty and creative explosion present or disgust and misery at the pain that’s on display. The focus on the movement of the dancers and the constant and energetic soundtrack makes the movie a feast for the eyes and ears. There’s always something visually interesting happening on screen, even if it terrifying. The neon color palette is breathtaking and drips through every single frame.
The color palette shifts from neon blues to greens to reds without ever feeling boring or played out. This is Noé paying homage to Suspiria and using its evocative color scheme to his advantage. Along with the way bodies move, the color keeps every shot visually arresting.
The incredibly long takes keeps the experience continuous, never giving the audience a moment to breathe or think. This is experiential filmmaking at its finest. I can totally understand people who dislike this movie and see it as a series of random events and dialogue that seemingly proceeds in a haphazard manner. Likewise, I can understand people who hate the movie because of how miserable it ends up feeling. It goes to some dark and disturbing places. But to me, that’s life. It’s a random scattered set of experiences with some semblance of order that is then constantly interpreted by us as we move along its path. There’s good and bad and everything in between. This is a movie that captures that essence and makes everything from the structure of the movie to the narrative proper reflect that feeling.
None of the movie would be possible without the cult of personalities presented by the actors, most of whom have never acted before this. Obviously Boutella is excellent and serves as a kind of character anchor the audience follows to help keep them from getting too lost in the chaotic world Noé creates. Anyone who can do Adjani’s chaotic acting from Possession justice deserves kudos and Boutella nails it. But she’s an actor. It’s no surprise that she can act well. What is surprising is a large majority of the primarily dancer cast is able to keep up with her energy and ability to flip a switch the moment shit hits the fan. The cast is huge, but every single member of it exudes their own unique set of traits that makes them all interesting to follow in their own right. Maull nails a constant anxiety and fear that makes her character seem jumpy and unconfident. Schøtt brings an apathy and an off-kilter vibe that makes Psyché feel like a force of nature more than an actual person. Smile brings a sense of comfort and authority to his aptly named character, Daddy. I could go on and on, but the point is every actor brings something new to the mix giving Climax a surprising amount of depth. In fact, every time I watch the movie I focus on another one of the characters and follow whatever they’re doing when the movie pans to them. Are they embracing creativity or chaos ? How are they acting compared to their previous interview and/or conversations from the earlier acts of the movie? Because of how much time is spent letting the actors breathe life into their characters, you can come away from movie having gotten a plethora of different “narratives”, showcasing the themes mentioned above.
The genius of Climax is despite being unabashedly artistic, experimental, in your face, and provocative it still manages to have time to answer the mystery of who spiked the sangria – saving the reveal for the very last moment of the movie. Based on all previous information, the reveal is poetic and gives the movie a neo-giallo kind of feeling behind all the music and dance. There’s a “masked” killer (the mask being the persona the killer use) whose plans end up causing tremendous amounts of violence, characters desperately try to figure out who the character is with no real success, and the movie ends on the killer’s reveal without ever giving away their motivations, leaving that interpretation up the audience. Having a narrative that ends with an actual answer on top of doing everything else in between is testament to Noé’s strength as an auteur. He doesn’t forget to deal with the main plot despite seemingly not being all at that interested in it.
Now while I think of Climax as an audio-visual poem that uses its dancers as different stanzas in a tale about life, I don’t think the movie is for everyone. I do think those who dislike Noé’s earlier works might find something interesting in this. However, I don’t think those who like a conventional narrative will enjoy this. There is a story. There is a buildup. There is a conclusion. But the movie is more focused on feeling like an experience than giving you a coherent tale. It’s very much inspired by the French New Wave (the movie even tells the audience in one of its text/phrase cutaways that it’s a French film and it’s proud of it) and doesn’t hesitate to let the audience know that this is a movie. It intentionally wants to get a rise out of you. Noé is a provocateur and wants you to feel uneasy and miserable. A lot of people call this movie an exercise in style as opposed to substance and while I disagree as evidenced by my adoration above, I can understand that point of view if you’re coming into it expecting a well-structured story with a clear plot. If you’re someone who enjoys art house proclivities and want an experience that ferociously comes at your sense this is the movie for you. If not, go watch something else. The world is open to infinite possibilities. Go and embrace whatever suits your fancy.
REPORT CARD
TLDR
Climax is an audio-visual experience that demonstrates that style can absolutely be substance. It’s a cinematic poem that explores the multiplicity of life in both its creative splendor and its ability to fall into depravity. The narrative eschews tradition in favor of embracing its themes in every way possible from slides of words that interrupt the action to constantly playing a different version of the credits at interesting points in the movie. All of this is done in service of demonstrating that life is a constant process of birth and death- an infinite series of climaxes where anything can happen. The dance sequences are mesmerizing and the music is hypnotic. The depravity is heartbreaking and revolting without ever losing its sense of beauty. Shots are draped in neon colors and constant movement which makes every moment visually arresting. The story of a dance troupe falling into disarray after drinking spiked sangria is only a small portion of the movie despite “being” the main narrative. To get the full experience, you have to be willing to take a leap of faith into Noé’s rhizomatic world.
Dakota 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 Date
2018
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
TLDR
Suspiria 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
Rating
9.9/10
Grade
A+
Go to Page 2 to view this review’s progress report .
Vasile Flutur as Mitchell Jillian Geurts as Jessica Joy Shatz as Molly Dustin Austen as David Kyle Ingleman as Brock Brian David Tracy as Arnold
Release Date
2018
Language(s)
English
Running Time
89 minutes
As someone who genuinely enjoyed the first Hell House I was surprised when a sequel was coming out by the same director. I was curious at how Cognetti would manage to expand on his found footage universe. Would the series take a dive and become a repetitive snore fest like the Paranormal Activity franchise or would it try and innovate and be something new? Unfortunately, by the halfway mark I knew I was in store for the former. Hell House II feels like an attempt to capture the same lightning in a bottle that it’s predecessor managed to but doesn’t have nearly the same polish or sense of intrigue. There are a few nice moments scattered throughout but by and large the movie feels uninspired and pales in comparison to what came before.
The movie picks up 8 years after the tragedy of Hell House and follows investigative journalist, Jessica, and a ragtag team of assistants as they try and discover the secrets of the Abaddon Hotel and the tragedies associated with it. Just as you’d assume creepy stuff happens, random specters are sighted, and things get eerie quick. Unfortunately, most of the scares don’t land because there’s no reason to care for any of the characters.
The first movie works because it gives the audience time to know and understand the characters and their relationships with/among each other. I got their personalities and formed a bond with them, so watching the horrifying events happen to them evoked a level of sympathy. This is mainly due to how authentic and natural the cast comes off. I genuinely felt like I was watching a group of friends get entangled with something beyond them and not some actors trying to emulate that.
The main cast in this movie doesn’t manage to evoke those or similar feelings. The story splits Jessica’s group into two near the very beginning and never brings them back together so a large swath of potentials interactions are forgone. The people we do follow barely get anytime to to mingle before things start going bump in the night so they immediately rush into survival mode. As a result, they all just come off feeling like tropes as opposed to fleshed out characters worth caring for. Interactions between them come off like throwaway moments meant to pad the run-time and/or exposition dumps that are supposed to serve a stand-in for real characterization and storytelling. Everyone’s motivations feel forced and/or undeveloped and it makes sympathizing for their circumstances that much harder. For example, the movie needs Jessica to come off as feverish in her aspirations and willing to do whatever it takes to get the information she needs. This would help make sense of her refusals to back down in spite of the circumstances understandable as opposed to inconceivable. The story never gives Geurt the chance to convey this trait. Instead of feeling realized with intention and drive, she comes off like an NPC in a detective game who’s pre-programmed to make awful decisions because that’s what “real” journalism ,aka the story, requires. This displacement between what the character needs to emote to feel real versus their apparent motivation is present in most of the main cast outside of Ingleman. No one feels grounded or relatable.
I think the movie would have benefited immensely from more time to breathe with all the characters. Getting to know them more intimately would have helped understand their driving factors and would’ve helped me get over their incredibly, inconceivable, stupid decisions. Context changes the way decisions are perceived and this movie lacks that for its characters. It’s a shame because I think the few good scares in the movie suffer a lot as a result. In theory and partly in practice they work. It’s just their execution in relation to the characters feels detached and doesn’t stick in the mind after initial watch. That’s arguably the most important part of a scare. It’s ability to haunt you after having seen it.
Furthermore, while the purpose of the first movie is clear – a “real” documentary of a tragedy – this movie never makes it clear who is presenting the story of the Abaddon Hotel and why the audience should care. Video clips from the beginning of the movie recount the stories of individuals who entered the hotel and disappeared, but they just feel like disconnected scares that tell the audience very little new information. By the end of the movie the purpose of the documentary is no less clear. The story makes sense in a narrative context, but it doesn’t fit the style by which it’s told. I feel like the movie would’ve been more interesting as a straight up supernatural horror film as opposed to a found-footage style film. Granted, that would mess up the whole found-footage trilogy Cognetti was going for , but I think the franchise would’ve been better off as a result. It certainly wouldn’t feel as jarring. I just couldn’t stop thinking about why someone would cut and edit a piece like this and who they would show it to , so I could never get into the movie’s “purpose” as a documentary.
All this being said, I do enjoy the way the movie ends. Key revelations are made that connect the mythos of the first and second movie in a way that excuses some of story issues I’ve outlined. There’s a connective tissue that’s given life which fully gets to breathe in the final part of the trilogy. Without the foundation of the ending here, the third part of the franchise wouldn’t work as well , and that’s a movie I really enjoy. Does that mean I give Hell House LLC II a pass? No. Not even close. Just because it works in the context of a trilogy doesn’t give it an excuse for being boring and mostly uneventful in end of itself. It’s not a movie I would watch as a solo billing and even when I find myself in the mood for a franchise re-watch, I usually skip all the way to the end for this one.
REPORT CARD
TLDR
Hell House LLC II: The Abaddon Hotel leaves a lot to be desired and oftentimes comes off like a sad attempt at recreating the much better Hell House. The scares don’t hit, the characters are unrelatable, and the plot feels underdeveloped. I’d only recommend to this to fans of the first because the ending does add to the mythos of the latter and set up for a much better sequel .
Rating
4.2/10
Grade
F
Go to Page 2 for the spoiler discussion. Go to Page 3 to view this review’s progress report .
François Simard Anouk Whissell Yoann-Karl Whissell
Principal Cast
Graham Verchere as Davey Judah Lewis as Eats Caleb Emery as Woody Cory Gruter-Andrew as Farraday Tiera Skovbye as Nikki Rich Sommer as Officer Mackey
Release Date
2018
Language(s)
English
Running Time
106 minutes
After the absolute blast that was 2015’s Turbo Kid, I was more than excited when I saw the writer-director trio behind it had made this 80’s inspired horror mystery about a group of high schoolers trying to track down a local serial killer. Though it didn’t quite reach the peaks of the trio’s first movie, Summer of 84 has more than enough heart , spirit, and tension to entertain genre fans or people looking for a well-executed murder mystery story.
The story follows Davey, a 15 year old paperboy neck deep in conspiracy theories, who starts to suspect his friendly neighborhood cop, Officer Mackey, might actually be the dreaded serial killer terrorizing his small suburban neighborhood. Hungry to get to the bottom of the case, he enlists the help of his friends: Eats,Woody, and Farrady. What stands out the most about the group of four is how well defined they are as individuals and in relation to one another. Their conversations feel like they have a genuine history and weight behind them even if at times its just a series of quips back and forth. Davey, on top of being the conspiracy theorist of the group , is also the one most invested in the excitement the morbid situation presents him and his otherwise sheltered suburban life.Eats is the typical abrasive loud-mouth of the group. Woody is nervous, loyal, and defensive about his Mom. Farrady is know-it-all of the group. These characteristics might be interesting in end of themselves, but their origins reveal a lot more. Angst doesn’t just come from somewhere; there’s always circumstance that informs it. Discovering what that background is is what the movie is all about.
Davey tells the audience as much in a voice-over near the beginning of the story where he warns that anything that could be happening behind anyone’s closed doors and you’d never know. The normal and routine could just be a smokescreen or deflection to cover up something more sinister. Or it could just be that- normal and routine. The story explores this idea not only through the mystery and investigation at the heart of the narrative but also in the way background details regarding different characters get revealed. For example, Davey learns that his former babysitter’s parents are getting divorced when his dad casually lets it slip that he heard something. It’s telling in how quickly they all accept the news almost like we hear what we want to hear. In a world where we quickly accept or deny information based on how well it coheres with other facts we process, how easy is it for an action to be construed as being intended in one way verse another? Watching the characters wrangle with that question is what keeps the movie entertaining. Even as someone who thought the ending felt predictable, I didn’t feel upset because I think the movie is deft in how it applies this sense of misdirection up until the big reveal.
Speaking of misdirection, Rich Sommer deserves a serious round of applause for playing the main suspect, Officer Mackey, with just the right amount of ambiguity. Every action he takes feels like it could either be malicious or it could just coincide with regular behavior. The way he emotes simultaneously feels genuine and for a specific purpose and trying to figure out whether or not he’s really the killer places you directly in the protagonist’s corner only to take you out of it again. If he wasn’t capable of switching from charming to menacing at the flip of the hat the mystery at the heart of the movie would never work.
If you’re a fan of 80’s inspired music and references, this movie has them in spades. The sound is synthy and hypnotic like you’d expect and I snapped along to the music more than once. The terror and danger of the situation the boys get themselves into during their mystery is conveyed almost perfectly through the tenser tracks that had my heart pumping in anticipation. Don’t worry if you’re annoyed of the 80’s aesthetic ; it’s never forced down the audience’s throat. Yes the characters talk about Episode VI and Gremlins but it only happens once.
My biggest issue with the movie is the ending. It felt predictable and even thought it was executed to a T, I expected more. The issue is at a certain point it becomes obvious that the story is kind of locked into certain paths which makes guesswork easier.There’s one scene that’s left in the second act that almost feels like the directors intentionally letting the audience know who to suspect. That being said watching it all come together in the third act is immensely satisfying because it plays on the depths of what you’ve learned up till that point as opposed to pulling any new twists or turns. It’s subversion done well and to an an effective degree. I just wish the lead up to it involved more red herrings and the story went off into zanier directions to force the characters and the audience to confront their biases in a more rushed and frantic way.
REPORT CARD
TLDR
Summer of 84 is an 80’s fueled murder mystery that prioritizes mood and atmosphere over visceral scares in its exploration of the way we mediate our public image and likewise attempt to understand what others “really” mean by their public images . From the dynamic synthy-techno score to the fleshed out and realistic characters, it’s clear that a lot of love and care went into making the movie feel aesthetically on point without sacrificing nuance or personal identity. Thought it doesn’t tick of all my boxes , the movie’s fun ,energy, and willingness to experiment more than justifies a watch.
Rating
9.4/10
Grade
A
Go to Page 2 for the spoiler discussion. Go to Page 3 to view this review’s progress report .
Jaime Lee Curtis as Laurie Strode James Jude Courtney as Michael Myers/The Shape Judy Greer as Karen Andi Matichak as Allyson Nelson Haluk Bilginer as Dr. Sartain
Release Date
2018
Language(s)
English
Running Time
106 minutes
Michael (James Jude Courtney) stands chained up. Michael (James Jude Courtney) stays with his back turned to Aaron(Jefferson Hall), Dana (Rhian Rees), Dr. Sartain (Haluk Bilginer) Aaron (Jefferson Hall) tries to elicit a response from Michael with the latter’s iconic mask. Michael (James Jude Courtney) is “woken” by the mask but exhibits no overt changes in behavior. The film starts on a provocation. Journalists want to investigate Michael and see what makes him tick, but he refuses to give them even an inch.
The film opens in a psychiatric hospital. A psychiatrist working at the institution, Dr. Sartain (Haluk Bilginer) escorts two true crime reporters, Aaron (Jefferson Hall) and Dana (Rhian Rees), for an interview with the subject of their latest investigation, Michael Myers (James Jude Courtney), before he’s transferred to a more maximum-security prison. The duo approaches the serial killer, but Michael doesn’t budge; he stays with his back turned to them. But he’s very much aware of their presence as evidenced by a “reverse” over-the-shoulder shot.
Frustrated with the lack of discernible response, Aaron steps forward and taunts Michael with the latter’s iconic mask, hoping that the provocation will elicit a response. But the response comes from the other patients around Michael who start to panic and become disturbed due to the sight of the mask; the lingering presence of evil is palpable. The cries of the patients interrupt and disorient Aaron’s attempted interview but he persists, desperately asking Michael to say anything.
Title card. The jack-o-lantern is crushed. The jack-o-lantern starts to rebuild itself. The jack-o-lantern lights up and is fixed again. The title sequence references the original movie and makes the viewer aware that this sequel is about Michael’s rebirth; far from being crushed, the specter of Halloween is back for more carnage.
Suddenly, the title card drops and the iconic Halloween theme starts to play; Michael doesn’t need to speak when the music does it for him. The intro sequence pays homage to the original film’s opening. In the 1978 classic, the camera slowly pushes into a jack-o-lantern, becoming the “point-of-view” of Halloween itself. In the 2018 sequel, the camera pushes in on a broken and beaten jack-o-lantern which recovers back into its original form – a rebirth. If the original signified the birth of Michael, then this narrative is about the resurrection of the Boogeyman.
Aaron and Dana leave Michael and head towards Laurie (Jaime Lee Curtis); if the killer won’t talk, get the survivor to fill in the blanks. Aaron narrates his report on the drive over and gives us the subtext in not-so-subtle fashion. Have Michael’s actions had an impact on Laurie such that the latter has become metaphysically changed by the encounter. Has one monster made another?
Laurie’s house is gated. Lights on the top of Laurie’s house. Lights surrounding the outside of Laurie’s house. Cameras record the property.Laurie’s compound might as well be a prison with how secure the area is. Cameras, lights, and locks pervade the area and make it apparent that Laurie has learned from her encounter with Michael. Security is paramount.
The answers to these questions become murky as the reporters arrive at Laurie’s gated compound. They speak with her through a security system in order to secure an interview but receive no response until they offer to pay a fee. The gate opens and they’re allowed entry. But the inside of Laurie’s compound is even more securitized than the outside. Cameras and lights surround the outside. It’s clear that Laurie’s confrontation with Michael has radically transformed her, forcing her to live her life with a neve-ending fear of the darkness and the forces inherent to it.
Aaron and Dana mention as much in their interview with Laurie, probing into how the incident derailed her life. It’s apparent that the duo doesn’t believe in the legend of the Boogeyman and see Michael as just another serial killer waiting to be examined, a profile to be added to a personality database. They suggest that Laurie’s obsession with the myth of Michael have cost her dearly. She’s had multiple failed marriages. She lost custody of her daughter, Karen (Judy Greer), years ago and now lives estranged from any family. Instead of continuing to live her fear in deference to idea of Michael qua inexplicable evil, they suggest that she communicate with Michael and lay her grievances to rest.
But they don’t understand what Michael is or the nature of what he put Laurie through so many years ago. They don’t understand that the person known as Michael is nothing more than a moniker for a force unconstrained, an evil with no direction. Laurie knows they don’t care about such proclamations, so she end’s the interview almost as soon as it starts and sends the duo out after getting payment.
Laurie (Jamie Lee Curtis) looks outside and sees Michael. Michael (Nick Castle) stares at Laurie. Allyson (Andi Matichak) looks outside and sees Laurie. Laurie (Jamie Lee Curtis) stares at Allyson. Laurie seems to have adopted some of Michael’s mannerisms; her encounter has caused her to become a specter to her own family. Her concerns might be justified, but her actions have caused such division that she has to meet up with her granddaughter in such a roundabout fashion.
Meanwhile Laurie’s granddaughter, Allyson (Andi Matichak), asks Karen if Laurie was invited to a celebratory dinner. Karen claims that Laurie was too busy to come, but Allyson knows that Karen most likely never sent an invite out. This becomes clear when Allyson peeks out of her classroom window and notices Laurie standing outside staring back at her; this is an explicit call-back to the original Halloween where a young Laurie peeked out and saw Michael staring back at her. In spending decades preparing for Michael, it seems that Laurie has adopted some of his characteristics. Allyson calls this out when the grandmother and granddaughter reunite outside. The latter pleads with the former to give up the obsession with Michael and return to a semblance of normalcy in order to engage with the family again.
But Laurie is right and Michael proves that her concerns are more than valid when he manages to escape from the bus transporting him for his prison transfer. Now free again, the shape is more than ready to begin his nightmarish slaughter. However, this time there’s a party that’s willing and who’s trained the majority of her life for such an encounter.
The film’s set-up offers a lot of promise by building upon the original’s themes in an organic fashion. Laurie becoming jaded and militaristic after her encounter is understandable. She witnessed a person survive fatal wound upon fatal wound with no genuine injuries. She’s the only one to have an understanding of the terror he brings, so she’s focused on eliminating him and not understanding him. Opposing her are parties that attempt to domesticate Michael, either because they have trouble evaluating what he’s done in a grander or context or because they believe that his drive towards destruction contains within it some kernel of truth which can help inquiries into the psychological nature of evil. All the while, Michael kills without reason and gives no indication that he cares or remembers any of the parties desperate to control him.
If done properly, the narrative could have interweaved between all the different strands chronicling Michael and taken the question of how narratives form around evil to its most literal sense. Alas, the narrative fumbles around with its ideas in haphazard fashion, wasting much of its potential in favor of scraping the surface of the most basic themes. Part of this stems from the noted sub-text problem above; much of the story relies on characters explaining the themes and ideas as opposed to showcasing the same visually or through the sound design, so there’s a constant discord between what the films aspiring to be and what it manages to achieve.
This is an effect of the film’s misguided focus. Instead of building up its primary cast of characters and letting them get entangled naturally as the night builds up, the story gives them only the basest amount of characterization necessary to get them ready for the next story beats. Time that could have been used to flesh out the characters and make their journeys more engaging is spent on building up Michael’s soon-to-victims. These characters are little more than “cannon fodder” and do nothing but converse in “comedic” [1] Comedy is subjective, but most of the jokes between minor characters are irritating more than anything else. fashion. Cuts from the main storyline to these characters are meant to introduce a levity and get the viewer to care about the carnage to come, but the conversations between said characters are so insipid that not only do they not get the viewer to care about what’s to come but also serve as an ugly contrast with the purported severity of what the film is trying to do. It’s hard to take Michael seriously as a threat when his violence is intercut with small talk and comedic banter.
In this sense, what’s missing from the 2018 incarnation of Halloween inherent in the original is a sense of gravitas capable of transforming the on-screen violence into a nightmare that gets under the skin. Without this severity, the discussions of the film’s subtext by major characters feels even more out of place. Consequently, while the film’s depiction of Michael’s night of violence is technically satisfying, none of his murders rises past the level of momentarily shocking spectacle.
REPORT CARD
TLDR
Halloween is one of the better attempted sequels to John Carpenter’s seminal 1978 classic, Halloween, but is still a far cry from the original in terms of its ability to leave an lasting mark of fear on its viewers. There’s a missing gravitas that makes this update to the slasher franchise feel lacking, but the technical competence and general respect given to the original film make this more than satisfying for fans looking for decent Halloween or slasher fare.
Rating
7.5/10
Grade
B
Go to Page 2for the spoiler discussion and more in-depth analysis. Go to Page 3 to view this review’s progress report .
Logan Marshall-Green as Grey Simon Maiden as STEM Betty Gabriel as Detective Cortez Harrison Gilbertson as Eron Benedict Hardie as Fisk
Release Date
2018
Language(s)
English
Running Time
100 minutes
Grey’s a technophobic mechanic living in a future cyberpunk styled world whose life flips upside down after a brutal altercation leaves him as a quadriplegic. When he’s offered the choice to implant STEM, a technology that would fix the connection between his brain and nerves allowing him to move, he takes it in the hopes of gaining the ability to enact his own revenge. The result’s a genre-blending adventure with precise and sharp action scenes, fun bits of black humor, exciting thriller sequences, and a healthy dose of body-horror to boot.
This is a multifaceted story about humanity’s relationship with technology and the dangers of becoming absorbed by our creations. The technology available to the characters is both heavily futuristic – fully functional smart homes, voice operated cars, etc – but still has room for analog elements like manual cars. The contrast gives the setting a strange distant, but eerily close enough feeling which makes its message hit harder. The movie questions our general orientation towards technology from how often to how strongly we should use it. Before the incident, Grey exhibits a lot of autonomy. He doesn’t like using new technology and takes a kind of pride in his ability to perform tasks manually. That gives him a sense of purpose. The story painstakingly takes the time to juxtapose his resistance to tech with society’s wholehearted embrace of it. After he’s left immobile, he’s despondent. Despite having the technology available to do the tasks he needs to do, he finds no solace in existence. The loss of tactile interactivity is a death knell, and until he’s present with the possibility of it coming back , he doesn’t see a point in life. It’s a situation that raises some interesting questions about our sense of perception and evaluation. Is STEM no longer technology because Grey is using it as a conduit to control his own nerves, imbuing with some kind of human element? Why is using the other voice technology to help him as a quadriplegic not a conduit in a similar vein? If there is no difference , then it’s just a question of using technology to help achieve a purpose in life without overshadowing it. If there is a difference, then Grey’s choice is meaningful in how it presents the tumultuous agency issues we face when given tools that can do more than needed.Though the story’s exploration of these ideas isn’t as fleshed out as I’d want it to be,it’s certainly stylish enough to entertain you while giving you just enough food for thought.
If you saw Venom and wished the movie focused on and developed Tom Hardy’s relationship with the symbiote to a greater degree , this is the movie for you. The duo have tense moments, buddy-cop moments, light conversations, Q/A sessions, and everything in between. It feels like a fleshed out relationship and is the central focus of the story. STEM’s foreign presence in Grey’s body presents some agency issues as the two seek to mediate control over the flesh and blood body they both inhabit. STEM asks for permission to do certain acts and Grey permits them. This dynamic is accentuated by Marshall-Green’s great performance. He sells the weird not-in-control of body sensation that we see, and it genuinely feels like he’s just a passenger letting the driver, STEM, do it’s own thing. It’s a strange quandary ,because it’s all consensual. It’s a genius move that lets STEM work as a stand in for technology in general . We can choose to use it for set purposes and retain a sense of independence at the cost of doing “more” work, or we could let it do more work at the cost of less control. Or is it even a loss of control if we permit it? I won’t spoil where the conversation goes, but I can say that it’s presented in a way that’ll keep you engaged even if you aren’t that interested in the social commentary proper.
Whannell knows how to deliver crowd pleasing fights, and I was elated at how the camera moves and tilts at sharp technical angles. You can tell there’s a mechanical element involved and the choreography feels crisp and distinct. I could feel every single blow and felt myself almost moving along with the camera, like a flurry of quick, calculated strikes. The fast paced nature of the movement also gives way to some quick shock scares that are used sparingly to great effect. Furthermore, a lot of the violent scenes are clever and take full advantage of the environment the story takes place in. There’s one during the second act that had me both wincing in pain but also crying in laughter at how ridiculous it would be to die in such a fashion.
My biggest problem with the movie is outside of Grey and STEM, none of the other characters really stand out. I liked some of the antagonists, but outside of the final villain , no one else ever gets development that doesn’t feel paper thin. There are attempts made at introducing some faux human vs upgraded human schism ,references to the mistreatment of veterans , and some ideas of class division but, like the antagonists,they get left to the wayside. It’s a shame because I think all of these threads had the potential to be layered with each other to create something next level, but unfortunately nothing ever really jives with each other enough to give the movie any extra kick. This issue becomes even more apparent in the ending, which simultaneously suffers because of the under developed antagonistic forces while being chilling and horrifying because of the well-developed final villain.
REPORT CARD
TLDR
Upgrade follows a quadriplegic man who agrees to undergo a surgery to move again. The twist? All his actions are mediated by a little microchip called STEM that talks and works with him to move his body. This cyberpunk body horror with healthy doses of both black comedy and action in an ambitious attempt at analyzing humanity’s relationship/increasing dependence on technology. Not everything worked, but what did work stuck with me.
Rating
8.8/10
Grade
B+
Go to Page 2 for the spoiler discussion. Go to Page 3 to view this review’s progress report .
