Kathryn Beaumont as Alice Sterling Holloway as Cheshire Cat Ed Wynn as Mad Hatter Jerry Colonna as March Hare Richard Haydn as Caterpillar Verna Felton as Queen of Hearts
Birds swim in the water and butterflies fly around. The camera pans through a field of flowers. The butterflies fly through the field towards Alice’s sister.Alice’s sister sits underneath a branch and lectures Alice from a book. The camera pans from a beautiful view of nature abound to Alice’s sister who disregards the same in favor of teaching Alice. However, Alice is more interested in the world around her. There’s a clear divide established between the mundane, adult world that seeks solace in structure and the wonderous, childish world that finds itself caught up in the world of sensations.
The camera pans through a wonderous environment filled with different types of wildlife; butterflies flutter in the sky while birds swim in the waters. But the camera settles on a young woman who could care less about the beauty of nature and is far more focused on educating her sister, Alice, who sits up above on a tree branch. Alice is fully caught up in her own designs and doesn’t pay attention to her sister’s lecture.
Alice’s sister calls Alice to attention. The latter sits on a tree branch and makes a crown of flowers. Alice gives the crown of flowers to her cat, Dinah. The crown of flowers drops from Dinah’s head……and falls onto Alice’s sister. While Alice’s sister lectures Alice, the latter crafts a crown of flowers for her cat, Dinah. The crown falls off the cat’s head and falls onto Alice’s sisters head, cluing in the latter to Alice’s lack of attention.
Instead, she makes a crown of flowers for her cat, Dinah, and places it upon Dinah’s head, crowning the pet as royalty of sorts. Dinah shakes the crown off and it lands on Alice’s sister’s head. Alice’s sister looks up and chastises Alice for not paying attention. Alice claims that the lessons are boring and would better suit her temperament if pictures accompanied the words. Her sister responds that there are a host of books without pictures in this world which sets Alice off into another tangent.
If this world contains such boring books, Alice surmises that her world, a world of wonder, would contain no such thing; only pictures would be allowed in books. Her sister calls the idea nonsensical, but far from being deterred by it, Alice seizes on the description and wholeheartedly embraces the moniker: “nonsense”. If the world of sense is so boring, then a world of nonsense has to be better.
Alice tells Dinah about a world of nonsense. Dinah initially nods along. But eventually Dinah gets confused by Alice’s description of a nonsensical world. Meanwhile, Alice is utterly caught up in her description of the nonsensical world. Alice raves about her nonsensical world while Dinah responds to the descriptions in understandable confusion. Alice’s break with the rules of reality is demonstrated as the 180 rule is broken. She goes from facing left to facing right- a change has happened.
Enamored by the idea, Alice starts to describe to Dinah the way such a nonsense world would operate. Things would be what they are not and what they are not they would be. Alice says as much in a matter-of-fact manner, but if Dinah’s reaction is an indication, nothing she says coheres. Regardless, Alice fully commits to her worldview – a shift which is signified by the film’s breaking of the 180-degree rule as her orientation flips from facing left to facing right; she’s “entered” a new world.
Alice jumps off the tree branch. Alice curtsies to Dinah in order to teach the latter proper practice. Alice and Dinah go and stroll through the field of flowers while the former sings. Alice and Dinah make their way to a brook. The brook reflects Alice and Dinah. Alice creates ripples in the reflection on the surface of the water. The ripple discombobulates the colors of Alice and Dinah, merging them. The colors swirl and come out in new form, this time as a White Rabbit jogging along. This shift ripples outward. As Alice jumps off the other side of the tree, her sister can no longer be found. It’s clear we’re in a new world. Alice sings about the wonders of her dream world, calling out to the birds, flower, and brook
This change in environment is reflected as Alice jumps off the tree branch and her sister is now nowhere to be seen. Alice doesn’t notice this disappearance and instead breaks out in song describing all the different ways her wonderland would operate. Eventually the song ends and Dinah and Alice find themselves at the edge of the brook. Alice creates a ripple on the reflection of her and Dinah; the reflected colors of the duo break apart and come back together, this time in the form of a anthropomorphized White Rabbit who’s running along muttering about how he’s “late” to something.
Dinah and Alice give the White Rabbit chase. The White Rabbit runs without waiting. He can’t be late. Alice and Dinah crawl into the rabbit hole to follow the White Rabbit. Alice comments that the decision to enter the rabbit hole is unwise. Alice falls further into the hole. Alice waives goodbye to Dinah.
With her curiosity fully piqued, Alice gives chase to the White Rabbit, going so far as to venture down the same rabbit hole she sees him going down. While she crawls into the hole, she mentions to Dinah on how such a decision is unwise and foolish, but she refuses to heed her own advice and proceeds head on. Suddenly, the ground gives beneath her and she falls down into an abyss.
Alice is slightly illuminated by a lamp in the seemingly never-ending abyss. Alice floats down the abyss as lights constantly change colors around her. She notices herself in a mirror, upside-down. Alice thinks to herself she may be going to a place where people walk upside down. She sees the White Rabbit running from an upside-down perspective. But then Alice realizes it’s she who is upside down, and she gets back right-side up. Alice continues to give chase to the White Rabbit.
As Alice falls down the seemingly endless pit, she notices a lamp and turns it on. Suddenly, the lights start to strobe from red to blue to purple and so on. She continues to float down and notices an series of oddities including a mirror which reflects her upside-down. She questions whether or not she’s entering a part of the world where people walk upside down before then seeing the White Rabbit running upside down. However, Alice realizes that the Rabbit isn’t upside down; she is. She changes her perspective and continues to give chase to the Rabbit, desperate to figure out what he’s running late to.
Unbeknownst to Alice, the environment she’s running into is none other than a land consonant with her aforementioned nonsensical machinations; she’s heading straight into a world where everything and everyone is “mad” and any attempt at making sense is doomed to fail. Thus begins Alice in Wonderland, the whimsical adaptation of Lewis Carroll’s audacious and nonsensical Alice [1]Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland and Through the Looking-Glass books. Though the film doesn’t explore its ideas with the same nuances of its source material, the story beats and ideas it does play around with provide a fertile ground for directors Clyde Geronimi, Hamilton Luske, Wilfred Jackson to show their stuff in brilliant, surrealistic fashion.
The narrative is largely incoherent and functions more as journey through set-pieces than anything else. Alice enters a new location, encounters distinctive and personable denizens of Wonderland, engages with said inhabitants in their respective shenanigans, eats some food material which makes her larger or bigger, gets frustrated by said situation, and then leaves the location. Rinse and repeat.
While the overarching relationship between these situations and their respective characters is largely up to the viewer’s interpretation, the story does have a certain logic pervading through it: Alice begins to understand and respect the need for a rational syntax capable of organizing the world – a sense to wade through the nonsense. Her growth gives the narrative a feeling of momentum in spite of its haphazard jumping around allowing the the directors to focus on the random nature of the spectacle. There’s no need to explain why or how situations are happening so we’re allowed to experience the spectacle with a sense of youthful exuberance, becoming children in response to the wonders on display.
Characters transform. Environments open up into new ones. Denizens break into song/snippets, often times making direct references to the source material proper. There’s always something dynamic happening in the frame challenging your assumption on what could happen next.
Add in the iconic voice acting which makes each character leap off the screen and it becomes clear why Alice in Wonderland is so charming. It’s hard not to become mesmerized by the ever-evolving cascade of characters and situations. It may be nonsense, but that doesn’t make it any less moving.
REPORT CARD
TLDR
Alice in Wonderland demonstrates the power of animation, presenting surreal sequences that demonstrate the creativity inherent to the medium. The nonsensical story, which moves from set-piece to set-piece, gives the directors’ multiple opportunities to just relish in sheer absurdity. There’s a sense of joy here that’s palpable, calling out to the whimsical child-like sense of wonder inside all of us.
Rating
10/10
Grade
S
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 .
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 .
Dev Patel as Sir Gawain Ralph Ineson as the Green Knight Alicia Vikander as Lady / Esel Joel Edgerton as Lord Sarita Choudhury as Morgan Le Fay Sean Harris as King Arthur Kate Dickie as Queen Guinevere
NOTE: This is a new release and the review is based off a theatre viewing. This means the review won’t feature common elements like visual analysis, extended theme analysis, or long-form discussions of the cinematic techniques being used. Once I am able to get a copy of the movie to watch, pause, analyze, and get stills from the review will be updated to match the current site’s standard.
The movie starts on our young knight-to-be Gawain (Dev Patel) waking up in a brothel partaking in booze and making merry with women. It’s clear from his appearance and familiarity with the surrounding that this is nothing out of the ordinary for him. In direct contrast to our expectations, the nephew of the great King Arthur (Sean Harris) seems anything but coming off more like a loser getting by on the name of his family – lazing around in hedonistic fashion as opposed to doing anything suggesting knightly values.
He comes home to his mother, Morgan Le Fay (Sarita Choudhury) where he’s admonished for his unkempt behavior, cleaned, and then sent to to feast with King Arthur and Queen Guinevere (Kate Dickie) and the members of the round table. At first he sits afar from the king and partakes in the splendor of the feast but is then summoned by Arthur to approach the place closest to the royal couple. It’s here where Arthur asks his Gawain to tell the couple Gawain’s tale. Gawain’s expression sours as he responds he has no tale to tell at which point he’s interrupted by Guinevere who reminds him that he’s still more than capable of engaging on journeys to experience and then provide such tails. As if to answer her claim, the room darkens and a large figure, the Green Knight (Ralph Ineson) approaches. He asks the crowd around him if there’s a knight willing to play a beheading game with him. Gawain uncharacteristically accepts the “call to adventure” and lops off the figure’s head. The Green Knight reveals that he’s very much alive while grabbing his lopped head and tells Gawain to meet him at one year’s time to receive a similar blow.
A year slowly passes in the town. Gawain drinks and frets at the prospect of having his head chopped off; unlike the knight, he can’t grow his head back. He is championed by the city who finally views him as aligning with the knightly virtues he’s expected to align with while dreading having to act good on what those virtues entail. This duality is reflected in a puppet performance that we (and the town) get to see on repeat – a microcosm of the larger story – that shows Gawain lopping off the Green Knight’s head, gaining honor, and then losing his own head and dying. In fact, Gawain is literally forced onto his journey by Arthur. Thus, the story begins.
The setup, due to it’s nature as adaptation of the poem, aligns perfectly with the “hero’s journey”. Gawain starts off in his “normal” world as a vagrant getting by on his family’s name. He is “called to adventure” by the Green Knight. Based on the structure of the journey (and the poem proper), Gawain would meets a mentor/helper who guides them through problems until eventually he has to come to terms with the issue himself. They he would be “reborn” and come back to his original realm changed. However, as Gawain proceeds on his adventure it becomes clear that director David Lowery has made some huge changes to both the story and the nature of the hero’s journey itself. He runs into mentors of sorts, but each encounter with them feels more like an impediment than anything, making it unclear who is ally and who is foe.
Each character he runs into – a young boy (Barry Keoghan), a headless ghost (Erin Kellyman), a horde of giants, a fox, an overly accommodating Lord ( Joel Edgerton ) and Lady ( Alicia Vikander) – presents a scenario that is both analogous to Gawain’s own fear of the outcome of the beheading game whilst simultaneously representing one of the five virtues of knighthood: chastity, courtesy, friendship, generosity, and piety. Every scenario presents Gawain a choice he can make – a duality that is represented not only in vibrant symbolic color shifts (red to green) but also in methodologically slow paced scenes which literally demonstrate Gawain’s contemplation of what the future holds. For example, early on in his journey, Gawain is left for dead. The camera starts on him and slowly arcs around one way before coming back on him dead – the fate that awaits him if he doesn’t act – before arcing all the way in the opposite direction to show him in his original position. This constant repetition not only reinforces that death is always in the background as a finality but also makes it abundantly clear that honor is always a choice and a choice that one has to undergo by themselves.
While this goes against both expectation and the poem itself, that doesn’t mean that Lowery’s adaptation is inauthentic. It’s precisely in the way that it deconstructs knighthood shines that it is then allowed to appreciate the importance of the virtues. The adaptation functions more like a dialogue between Lowery, the poem, the nature of knighthood, and the audience proper. What the virtues represent and the way they’re handled in the poem proper are questionable in some parts, namely the ending (something I agree with). The adaptation challenges these moments by examining them under the framework of what the virtues would actually entail in an attempt to determine what a true knightly journey for Gawain would actually entail.
However, the consequence of what these moments actually mean are up to the interpretation of the viewer. The movie is littered with sprawls of text that seemed ripped from the poem and plastered into the world of the movie – a combination of the diegetic and non-diegetic elements. At one point, Gawain’s name shows up on the screen in rapid fashion and font styles like something out of Climax’s multiple title drops. These textual intrusions become something else when Gawain eventually runs into a Lady who informs him that she likes to collect texts and modify them in places she thinks could use work. Thus, the adaptations’ changes can be seen as a direct response to the source work itself while also suggesting the world of the movie is one of constant interpretation. The intentional ellipses in meaning aren’t meant to confuse as much as meant to draw the audience into conversation on what honorable action would mean in that situation. The movie pushes this to the extreme by ending the story near halfway point of the traditional hero’s journey, inviting the audience to come up with their own ending.
In many ways, the narrative shares a similarity to Bergman’s The Seventh Seal which follows a knight, Antonius, looking for meaning in a world filled with suffering and God’s apparent silence. As he goes from spectacle to spectacle, he tries to gleam some kind of meaning from God. Here, Gawain is not considered with the silence of God as much as he is with the ambiguity on what it means to be a true knight. Like Antonius, he goes from scene to scene trying to determine what an honorable knight would do and like Antonius he never receives any kind of confirmation that what he’s done is in accordance with this ideal.
For those of you looking for a straightforward narrative that follows the traditional beats, this may be a deal-breaker. However, to those looking for an immersive experience that’s fully drenched in the mysteries and splendor of Arthurian mythos there’s rarely been something quite as ambitious and joyous to experience. Even just ignoring the visual spectacle- beautiful color grading and scene construction which emphasizes contrasts and themes combined Lowery’s slow unwavering long shots – and the score which feels mystical and rustic (any score with chanting has a good chance of sounding epic), the host of Easter Eggs and nods to the legends of the Round Table make this a must watch. Lowery never draws overt attention to any of these details but naturally incorporates them to make the world feel lived and textured. The world is magical and mysterious so many events and situations just happen with no given explanation letting the audience draw their own conclusions on who’s doing what and why. The end result is we’re as disoriented as Gawain , going along his journey with him in the truest of senses. Now that’s bringing a story to life.
REPORT CARD
TLDR
The Green Knight perfectly encapsulates the themes, mysteries, and sense of allure Arthurian mythos inspires in its deconstruction of the poem of Gawain and the Green Knight. This is a movie that challenges and invites the audience to parse meaning at every moment, refusing to offer any easy way out to some predetermined answer. Anyone who likes engaging with movies as dialogue and/or wants to experience a lived in Arthurian visual and auditory vision owes it to themselves to check this out.
Rating
10/10
Grade
S
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 .
Kimiko Ikegami as Gorgeous Miki Jinbo as Kung Fu Ai Matsubara as Prof Kumiko Oba as Fantasy Mieko Sato as Mac Masayo Miyako as Sweet Eriko Tanaka as Melody Yōko Minamida as Auntie Kiyohiko Ozaki as Keisuke Tōgō Saho Sasazawa as Gorgeous’s Father Haruko Wanibuchi as Ryoko
A blue line demarcates a frame in the center of the frame at which point a red letter “A” appears in the center.
The word “MOVIE” then appears in the frame. It’s a green color.
The name of the movie is reveals and he “O” in the title is revealed to have a mouth with jagged teeth.
The blue from the border of the inner frame bleeds in to color the entire background.
The “O” starts to chew onto something. It’s pale color has given way to a blood red.
A hand falls out of the “O” mouth.
The “O” mouth opens up to reveal an eyeball at the center.
The title card then becomes filled with the blood red – the color of the violent lips overwhelms and subsumes the rest of the letters.
The title card becomes less threatening as the word “House” becomes loose and animated again with a peaceful green background.
The opening sequence of House starts with music before a blue box is demarcated against the black box. It’s within this center frame that the majority of the action for the next minute will take place as the space is filled with a variety of different words, colors, and animations. Obayashi constantly demonstrates the way the space is demarcated, its presence constantly being interrupted by the suggestions of surrounding elements.
A somber and melancholic tune plays as soon as the title sequence starts up . The sound of wind intrudes upon the music creating an auditory clutter. The apparent diegetic sound (the wind) bleeds in with the apparent non-diegetic sound(the music) suggesting they’re occurring in the same auditory space. [1]Note: I say apparent here because there’s no reason to suggest that the music is inherently non-diegetic or the wind is inherently diegetic. It’s just an assumption of cinema that music … Continue reading The melodic part of the soundscape become more hopeful sounding than before. As the tune changes, a small blue box is drawn in the center of the screen before the words “A” and “movie” show up in the colors of red and green respectively within it – a frame within a frame. It’s at this point that the title of the movie, House, fills the inner frame. Unlike the previous two words which were static, the title presentation is fully animated. The letters each move up and down with whimsy and vigor.
However, a scream intrudes the soundscape . The inner frame is suddenly encroached upon by the blue border surrounding it and eventually its black background subsequently turns blue. Then, the letter “O” in “House” is revealed to have a ruby red mouth and a set of jagged teeth. It starts to chew maliciously before opening up and revealing an eyeball hidden inside of it. Suddenly, a peaceful high pitched tune starts to play completely incongruent with the image in the frame which shows the “O” mouth letting a bloodied stump of a hand drop out of it. It’s at this point that the blue background becomes black and devoid once again as all the letters take on a blood red color . The blood red from the lips, now transformed by a literal ingestion of a what appears to be a person, transforms the entire word into a monstrous abomination. before finally transforming into a less malicious configuration. The letters settle and become white again. Likewise, the background becomes green and calm once more. The violence which threatened to overwhelm disappears just as fast as it came – a momentary explosion.
Gorgeous (Kimiko Ikegami) stares at the camera. Her head is covered by a veil.
Fantasy (Kumiko Oba) stares at Gorgeous.
Gorgeous (Kimiko Ikegami) tells Fantasy (Kumko Oba) to hurry up with the shot.
The flash of the photograph ruptures the frame itself. the green image of Gorgeous (Kimiko Ikegami) gives way to one of red. The contrast in color reminds us of the title card, immediately tying the flash to violence. The moment at which the present is frozen in a moment is a temporal violence.
Gorgeous (Kimiko Ikegami) after the shot.
The background comes in around Gorgeous (Kimiko Ikegami).
The color of the inner frame changes from green to a colorscape that matches the background surrounding the enclosure.
The temporal frame demarcating Gorgeous (Kimiko Ikegami) from the flow of time dissipates as soon as she takes off the veil. She’s now free to enter the present once again.
The photography sequence reinforces the way the movie uses colors and further expands on the idea of how a space can be made up of both the past and present colliding with each other. The color green is not only tied to peace but also the constant flow of time – a present. The moment of the flash is the moment of capture – where the present is captures as past and transformed into a temporary moment. Thus the past is linked with violence. The discontinuity of the frame within the frame reinforces these disjunctions in time – the past and present colliding against each other in the same arena.
It’s at this point the movie cuts and the soundscape changes. The music changes to a cheerful tune that has a hypnotic jingle in the background. Instead of words occupying the inner frame, there’s a young woman, Gorgeous (Kimiko Ikegami), staring directly at the screen, a green filter covering her. She has a veil covering the top of her head and a lit candle on her side. The inner frame then shows another young woman, Fantasy (Kumiko Oba), standing with a camera before quickly moving back go Gorgeous who tells , Fantasy, to hurry up with the photo shoot. Fantasy takes the shot of Gorgeous. As the flash of the camera goes off the green hue gives way to red – a callback to the color motif used in the title sequence. After getting an “Okay” from Fantasy confirming the success of the shot, the space around the inner frame comes back into the view letting us know the girls are both in a classroom. However, the only spot of the frame where motion happens is the inner frame. Even as the color in the frame changes back to match its surroundings, Gorgeous moves as though the world outside of the box doesn’t exist. It’s as if the moments are intruding on one another, a present and a past out of joint with one another. However, once she takes the veil off the inner frame fades away and she is allowed to “return” to the present flow of time.
In just these opening 90 seconds , Obayashi’s House has foreshadowed the entire story, demonstrated its cinematic style, laid the framework for its approach to color, and set up the thematic point it wants to play upon. Up to the title sequence the soundscape suggests that music is not only going to be a prominent feature but that it intrudes upon the very world. If you enjoyed the start of Godiego’s score get ready to enjoy even more because every track is as addictive and fun to listen to and the music is played for almost the entirety of the movie’s run time.
The inner frame showcases the way moments in time can become demarcated- separated from what they were previously a part of. It’s no coincidence that the words entering this newly formed space are “A”, “Movie”, and “House”. It also imbues the space with the idea of cinema. What’s more cinematic than a frame that captures a story? Everything cinematic (at least in the traditional sense) that happens until the 90 second mark happens here and only here. The title turning from innocuous to horrifying to back again represents the way the movie will proceed in its tone as well – cheery, scary, joyful, and disjointed.
Suddenly, the title is abruptly interrupted by none other than the story proper as the movie cuts to a young woman, Gorgeous, who now occupies the inner frame. The cut itself is disorienting because the inner frame has changed while the background of the frame around it has stayed the same. The movie has spent so long making us aware of the power of the frame that we’ve become hypnotized and are staring right at it as the cut happens. Because we’re staring at the center, we are hyper aware of the change whose impact is magnified by the fact that everything around it stays the same. We’re reminded of the cinematic power of the frame – simply through the technique of demarcation and transition a discontinuity (the inner frame) is created through unity (the unchanging background). The movie’s past, the title, foreshadows the movie’s future, the story. The movie confirms this by revealing the space is one where a photoshoot is happening. The green image- calmness and continuity- gives way to a red image – violence and stillness – which then gives way to the green once more. The red is associated with the flash. The flash is the moment where a moment in time is demarcated, rendered permanent as the flow of time continues marching onwards. The flash is also the moment where a subject is shown in their true state, as the darkness is removed from their visage. A violent past that breaks a calm present- a sign of things to come. It’s at this point the blackness occupying the background of the frame is replaced by an appropriate classroom setting. The demarcation of the moving inner frame is suddenly juxtaposed against an immobile outside, but now that there is a content to that outside the disorientation feels all the more apparent. The time before the shot and the time mix like oil and water, both overwhelming the screen until finally the past fades into the present and the movie continues.
Gorgeous (Kimiko Ikegami) and Fantasy (Kumiko Oba) embrace. As the camera arcs around them, they become framed by lush green trees.
As soon as Gorgeous (Kimiko Ikegami) starts to leave the green forests leave the frame and a blood red filter bleeds over everything, casting an ominous shadow. Another repetition of the color motif.
Gorgeous (Kimiko Ikegami) and Fantasy embrace happily after the photoshoot, completely surrounded by a superimposed bright green forest. However, as soon as Gorgeous bids farewell and starts to go home, the green forests disappear and a blood red filter envelops the screen. The ending of the moment marks the appearance of red, tying the color to the “death” of the present, when a moment ceases and becomes an event, a memory lost to time.
The two girls frolic into the hallway as the happy go-lucky main theme continues to play. Suddenly, as they descend down a stairwell, the camera arcs around the two of them as they embrace and converse. The background around them are the green leaves of a forest. This idyllic moment is broken as Gorgeous bids her friend farewell. As she leaves the green from the background gives way to a crimson red filter which encompasses the screen – a signal of an end to peaceful times.
Gorgeous (Kimiko Ikegami) runs into her father’s (Saho Sasazawa) arms
Gorgeous (Kimiko Ikegami) learns from her Father (Saho Sasazawa) that he plans on getting married once more, to a woman named Ryoko (Haruko Wanibuchi).
The camera slowly moves to frame the new attempt at a family structure in a unified way. Gorgeous (Kimiko Ikegami), her father (Saho Sasazawa), and Ryoko (Haruko Wanibuchi) represent a potential future.
Unfortunately for the adults, Gorgeous (Kimiko Ikegami) is in shock upon hearing the news. The camera shows the images around her reflecting and distorting, showcasing the damage.
Gorgeous (Kimiko Ikegami) remembers fonder days with her father (Saho Sasazawa).
Gorgeous (Kimiko Ikegami) throws her scarf as the frame partially freezes.
Gorgeous’s meeting with her father quickly turns from serene and picturesque to divided and broken up once he mentions his plans on remarriage to the youthful and beautiful Ryoko. Ryoko enters the screen gracefully and attempts to curry favor with her soon-to-be step-daughter by giving her a sash but it’s of no use. As both her father and Ryoko try and interact with her Gorgeous starts to reminisce about the past, better times when things seemed more unified. Unable to deal with the situation, Gorgeous throws the gifted sash and runs off the screen. Her running motion stays trapped in place as the sash falls in the background – the abdication of the possible future cements this past as an event lost in time as the sash (the future) floats away.
Gorgeous makes her way home and runs to her Father (Saho Sasazawa). She runs into his arms, the camera capturing the two of them in tender embrace. However, the camera starts to move and reveals that its positioned behind a glass pane. As Gorgeous’s father indicates he needs to talk, the frame becomes demarcated into multiple rectangular pieces. The peaceful music track is interrupted by a the discordant fast paced noises of a piano. The unity in the image of father and daughter splits. It’s fitting then that he tells her that their planned father-daughter vacation is now being intruded upon by a third agent, Ryoko (Haruko Wanibuchi).
She makes her way onto the screen, passing by the window pane – constantly being split into new configurations. The music changes and becomes more hopeful as well. It’s at this point the camera starts zooming in, the panes start to overlap with the frame almost presenting a fully unified image again. Just as the two boundaries are about to meet and become one her father mentions that he plans on marrying Ryoko. However, mention of this unity breaks the scene. The shot reveals a closer view of Gorgeous, her image and surroundings being reflected and distorted around her edges. As she’s processing the news, Ryoko tries to put a scarf around her neck as an attempt at starting a fresh bond towards a hopeful future. Gorgeous however can only focus on the past. As her father talks, the camera cuts from the present of the conversation the adults are trying to have to the memories that Gorgeous is desperate to maintain. These memories, though slightly demarcated by the pane on the edges of the shot, are mostly centered and show a unified happy image of the pair.
This past memory gives way to the future as the camera transitions to the present and shifts away once again, showing the scene breaking into segments. Gorgeous, unable to deal with the situation, runs away and throws her newly gifted scarf into the air. It’s at this time the temporality of the screen breaks again. Half the screen shows the scarf slowly falling down as the other half shows Gorgeous frozen as she runs off. This establishes not only the importance of her throwing the “future” away but reinforces the way continuous time breaks into discrete moments which are then stored as memories. Temporality is quickly returned as Gorgeous comes back to the present and runs into her bedroom which is aptly adorned with flowers. She takes out a host of photos showcasing both her father and deceased mother, wishing for her mother fondly, before recollecting that her mother had a sister – an Auntie (Yōko Minamida) whom she, Gorgeous, would be able to escape to given her father’s “betrayal”.
It’s with this motivation that Gorgeous meets up with her friends Fantasy, Melody (Eriko Tanaka), Kung Fu (Miki Jinbo), Mac (Mieko Sato), Prof AKA Professor (Ai Matsubara), and Sweet (Masayo Miyako). As you’d imagine each girl’s name is indicative of their respective personality traits. For example, Melody, as her name implies, is the musically inclined member of the group. Gorgeous asks her friends to accompany her to her Auntie’s house for their summer vacation trip. The 6 girls agree and the group of 7 venture off to the country in hopes of a fun-filled vacation. Unfortunately for them, their hopes are squashed almost immediately by bouts of supernatural phenomena. As the title sequence indicated, there’s nothing but discordant violence to be found once one enters the house.
Now, House has been described as many things by many different people. The Criterion Collection fondly describes the movie as, ” a psychedelic ghost tale”, “[a] stream-of-consciousness bedtime story”, and “[a]n episode of Scooby-Doo as directed by Mario Bava”. [2]https://www.criterion.com/films/27523-house Each of these descriptions is accurate. In fact, most of the praise surrounding House focus on it’s colorful and surrealist visuals, outlandish story, quirky and eccentric characters, Godiego’s emotionally distinctive and iconic score, and/or its absurdist sense of humor. Don’t get me wrong, I think all of these things are true. If the description of the opening 10 minutes of the movie above wasn’t proof enough, let me confirm. You’ve never seen a movie like House before. It’s a movie where Obayashi throws everything but the kitchen sink on screen. Painted backdrops, stop-motion, split frame shots, use of stutter motion, blue-screen, animation, and the like are used with gusto lending themselves to dozens of memorable scenes. However, all these techniques aren’t done just for fun; every one of them is put in place to develop the movie’s themes – namely how one can confront Japan’s horrifying nuclear history and more broadly how humanity can confront its own past bouts of violence.
Early on before the girls get to Auntie’s house, they have a conversation discussing the end of World War II, the nuclear devastation that occurred as a result of it, and the subsequent loss. However, because the girls are young and naivete, they brush past the historical atrocity with relative ease.
The girls discuss Japan’s fate at the end of World War II and go over the devastating effects of the nuclear bombs dropped. However, the impact of the weapons is still too hard to conceptualize for such a young and naïve group, so they end up treating it as another everyday event.
Mac even goes so far as to compare the smoke clouds with cotton candy before the group turns to more positive matters. This disconnect between Japan’s past and it’s future is something Obayashi explicitly wanted to tackle, having lost some of his own friends to the war and its related horrors. [3]“Constructing a “House.”” House, Criterion Collection, 2010. Blu-Ray. The nuclear bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki were brutalizing, not only in their immediate impact, but in the way the effects of the damage persisted and continue to do so even now. This is why the movie constantly emphasizes the idea of intrusion – the idea that the present is constantly being interrupted by the past. By tying the supernatural events of the movie to Japan’s nuclear past, Obayashi is demonstrating the way the bombings still rupture in Japan’s present, even affecting the youth who think they’re separated from the violence. This violence is in turn presented in a surreal, colorful, and festive way. Obayashi’s daughter was the source for many of the situations the girls end up finding themselves in, so both the situations and the manner they play out are childlike. The horror subsequently comes off as bizarre and comedic on a surface level.
It’s no surprise so many people say House is not “really” a horror film. Even ardent fans praise the movie not for its horror but for the passion and sense of childlike whimsy it has. However, it is my position that House is not only a horror movie, but an example of horror surrealism done at a masterful level. At the stories base are tales of fear as described by Obayashi’s daughter, so the nightmares we see on screen are definitionally someone’s fears come to life. [4]Constructing a “House.”” House, Criterion Collection, 2010. Blu-Ray. The presentation of each sequence might be cute and harmless to us, but the sequences proper have horrifying consequences for the characters that inhabit the story’s world. In the same way Mac sees the devastation of the bomb and sees cotton candy, we see the brutalization of the girls and think it’s all good fun. The movie’s surrealist presentation disguises the violence so it’s palatable to us, but the reality lurking under the vibrant colors is terrifying.
Just like the specter of the nuclear incident in the movie precipitates the girls inevitable faiths, the specters of past injustices continue to prop up even now. Ghosts haunt the characters in the same way the past haunts the present. The fact that Gorgeous chooses to go to her Aunt, a person linked to her past, over her Father, a person linked to a new future, is not a coincidence but a reminder to the audience of the way the past nullifies potential futures, rendering them ghosts. All those who died in the nuclear blasts of WWII had lives with trajectories that suddenly ended, no place to go – a demarcation frozen in time as everything moves around it.
However, House also reveals the way cinema can bring life to these frozen moments and let their memory linger breathing life into the spirits of the past. From the opening frame that showcases the way moments can be captured, frozen, and then reincorporated to the last line of dialogue in the movie, Obayashi’s point is to never forget. If the past can never be negated and it cannot be run from then it must be embraced. The power of cinema is in its ability to embrace and transform moments into narratives with a broader appeal, breathing life into demarcated moments to create a moving whole.
The power of House is it doesn’t trade subtext for entertainment or vice versa. Sure, there are some elements that are less than perfect. Certain effects are a bit shoddy and some of the acting comes off as amateurish. However, I’d deal with these issues any day of the week if I was guaranteed a piece of art with this much depth. None of these “problems” at any point takes you out of the story because the sincere presentation of the movie makes such moments feel like a natural extension of the setting. Who really cares if a green-screen effect isn’t the greatest when you have a cat playing the piano in forwards and backwards motions? By wholeheartedly embracing these small production flaws and keeping them in line with the spirit of the story, Obayashi manages to turn even imperfections into endearing qualities. The end result is a wholly charming story that’s visually captivating from start to finish, that uses surrealism to transform horrifying scenes into colorful and whimsical moments, and that manages to have a compelling and relevant theme underlying it all. It’s a movie that everyone should watch at least once because there is quite literally nothing else out there like it.
REPORT CARD
TLDR
House is a movie that has to be seen to be believed, combining an audacious visual style with a childlike tale of whimsy and terror in an effort to deconstruct the way the future and present are always constantly indicted by a past they can’t escape. Every scene from start to finish is memorable not just because Obayashi uses ever cinematic tool in the book but because of his dedication to ensuring that the movie was at it’s core fun for the audience. For those viewers just looking for a one of a kind experience, there’s no movie that can prepare you for the absurdity that is House. You can watch it and have a blast even if you only take it at its face value.
However, those viewers willing to take the plunge into the subtext will find themselves deeply rewarded. Under the vibrant colors and absurdist humor, is a truly surreal horror story that reminds us of the way the specters of humanity’s past violence and atrocities of will always remain in the background, intruding in on the present along with how cinema can honor them.
Rating
10/10
Grade
S+
Go to Page 2for the for the spoiler discussion and more in-depth analysis. Go to Page 3to view this review’s progress report .
Adam Sandler as Barry Egan Emily Watson as Lena Leonard Philip Seymour Hoffman as Dean Trumbell Mary Lynn Rajskub as Elizabeth Egan
Release Date
2002
Language(s)
English
Running Time
95 minutes
The movie opens on Barry Egan, an plunger entrepreneur who’s engaged in conversation with a help desk of sorts. His conversation style is awkward due to the importance and seriousness of the subject he’s speaking about – an airwards mile rewards program. This conversation is shot on a handheld camera. This is on purpose- many moments the movie explores, Barry’s awkwardness is a natural predisposition towards the world that manifests in his shaky lack of control over the way it should work.
Barry Eagan (Adam Sandler) isolated through mise en scène as he talks about an airplane rewards program. He’s in a corner oppressed by the shadows that encroach him.
He is surrounded by the colors blue and white – the blue matches his suit and feels like an extension of himself. The white feels oppressive especially with the way the shadows loom all around. He feels enclosed – stuck in a rut, threatening to get engulfed by the darkness around him. This is a pattern he needs to break.
He gets up to open his garage and literally disappears from the screen. Saying he’s in in a dark place is putting it lightly. As he looks out at the entrance to his garage lot the camera cuts to the entrance of the lot quite and starts tracking to the left side of it. Unlike the sky that surrounds Barry – a melancholic blue -the site on the street is a gradient of purple – a mix of blues and reds. Up to this moment, the soundscape has been minimal and precise outside of Barry’s footsteps, his dialogue (obviously), the scribbling of his notes, and similar small details.
Barry (Adam Sandler) walks away from his desk.
Barry (Adam Sandler) is subsumed by the darkness.
Barry (Adam Sandler) opens up the garage to his office.
As Barry (Adam Sandler) leaves his desk to go outside he’s momentarily swallowed by darkness. He’s experiencing a bout of something bad at the moment and we’re joining him at a pivotal event in his life.
This calculated calm gives way as a red car flips over the street violently. The sound of its crash is jarring – a wake up call – a signal to Barry that change is coming. Immediately after this crashed car skids down, a red moving van drops off a small harmonium before quickly driving off. Two red vehicles arriving at the same time disrupting the silence – in intervention in Barry’s life. The camera zooms onto the discarded harmonium before quickly cutting to Barry at his desk – his body replacing the space the piano was previously in. The piano will come to play an intimate part in his life.
Barry (Adam Sandler) looks out at the street in from of the lot he’s located at.
The street is calm. The background is a mix of purple, blue, and red.
A flash of violence as a red car flies through the air.
Barry (Adam Sandler) looks at the car crash in shock. The background behind him is blue like his suit, but is also different from the more distinct and gradient like street background.
Another red vehicle approaches and drops off a harmonium.
A zoom on the harmonium lets us know that it’s important.
The movie cuts from the harmonium being center of the frame to Barry (Adam Sandler) showing the way it’s going to play a defininig role in what’s to come in his life.
He goes through another awkward but telling phone conversation – socializing is not his strong point. The conversation ends and he goes outside once more. This time the sky is bright, filled with the sun- a warm radiance. A woman dressed in red, Lena, runs out of her white car. The warmth of the sun seems drawn to her. She’s fully illuminated as she runs towards Barry. Due to some unforeseen scheduling issues she needs his help getting her car to the mechanic next door. Barry plays it cool and lets her know he’ll be of assistance .
Their conversation is accompanied by a multicolored lens flare which shows up in between them. A bridge of light made up of red and blue colors – a connection willingly made by two parties. As she walks away the camera pauses on her standing next to the harmonium. Another connection made between a person and the harmonium. Now the two red interruptions (the red cars and Lena) are linked to an instrument (the harmonium) that’s linked to Barry.
He waits coyly for her to leave before rushing back into his garage/office. He hides in the shadows. The blackness consumes him. This is a momentary paralysis – a fear of the decision he has to make. A brief pause later and he choses to go into the light. His silhouette stands strongly and resolutely – a sign of his determination. The blackness goes from imposing to representing a moment of agency – from the shadows to the light. Speaking of the light, the harmonium which has been tied to Lena – a literal beacon of light, beckons Barry forward. To demonstrate to us the severity of Barry’s upcoming decision – PTA opts to show us our protagonist along with the harmonium from 3 separate angles , even going so far as to break the 180 degree rule( Barry’s orientation changes in images 7 to 8 as he goes from facing left to facing right) . The decision to take the harmonium is one of vital importance and as Barry decides to take it another truck violently zooms. As the truck goes by there’s another loud and abrasive car noise – a counterpoint to the first crash – a confirmation of a choice that has been made.
Barry (Adam Sandler) goes out into the blinding sunlight as a white car approaches him.
Barry (Adam Sandler) meets Lena (Emily Watson) who’s completely covered by the light – a new light in his life.
As Lena (Emily Watson) leaves the lot, the camera shows her next to the harmonium drawing a connection between the two.
Barry (Adam Sandler) runs back into his garage after his encounter with Lena. He’s paralyzed in fear and hides in the shadows, letting the black cover him up.
Barry (Adam Sandler) snaps out his momentary paralysis and becomes resolved in his decision to get the harmonium. He stands by the light- his frame becoming resolute and distinct showing his will instantiating.
Barry (Adam Sandler) goes to the harmonium.
Barry (Adam Sandler) looks at the harmonium from the right looking left.
Barry (Adam Sandler) looks at the harmonium from the left looking right.
As Barry takes the harmonium a large white truck goes on by and makes a large and jarring noise like the vehicles from earlier.
Barry (Adam Sandler) runs down to his office with the harmonium.
Lena (Emily Watson ) is a source of light in Barry’s (Adam Sandler) life. She shows up in a white car – a decision to be made. She’s dressed in red and stands with the harmonium – this ties her with the idea of love and music and in contrast to the violence of the original crash. If she is the harmonium and not the crash, then what is the crash going to look like? The movie invites us such questions through it’s clever development of motifs.
After agreeing to turn her car in, Barry hides in fear before deciding to recover the harmonium. His decision is reflected in the way the movie is edited through both the movie’s motifs (car crash noise) and the way it uses multiple angles and breaking the 180 rule.
He brings the harmonium back to his private office – a room which he keeps free from the chaos of his work environment. As he sets to examine the instrument, a blue lens flare appears- this is an important moment of determination from Barry . His face which was previously covered in shadows becomes enveloped in a light as the camera slowly zooms in on him staring at the instrument- he’s lit up by an outside brightness just like with Lena earlier.
As he plays the instrument, Jon Brion’s “Punch Drunk Melody” starts up in the background alongside the wonky harmonium notes Barry plays -the first meeting of the non-diegetic experimental score with the deliberate diegetic soundscape feels like an orchestra of sorts. The silence from earlier feels like a deliberate refrain akin to a song which helps tie the newfound audio to Berry’s newfound decision making process. The idea to bring in the harmonium is the key to everything – it brings “music” into Barry’s life. Even if the character’s can’t hear it, the non-diegetic score blends in with the sounds of their life, giving their actions and behaviors an accentuated rhythm.
One of Barry’s employee’s shows up and asks why there’s a harmonium in the main office . Barry initially ignores the question. He slowly dances out of the office with his eyes fixated on the harmonium almost as if in a trance. As he’s asked again he responds, “I don’t know.” Watch the movie to find out why.
Barry (Adam Sandler) sits down to tinker with the harmonium after picking it up off the street. There’s a blue lens flare showcasing how this manifestation of his will is important for what’s to come.
Barry (Adam Sandler) looks at the harmonium and goes from being in the shadow…
to being revealed in a light. The harmonium is a positive force for him.
Barry (Adam Sandler) slowly dances…
from side to side…
before admitting he doesn’t know why he brought the harmonium in.
Barry (Adam Sandler) may not know why the harmonium is so important to him, but he does find it to be a source of light in his life. It brings music and rhythm to his silent and melancholic existence and he goes on a journey to figure out why it is that it means so much to him.
To commemorate the start of Barry’s journey, the movie cuts to a Jeremy Blake art piece that showcases colors and shapes slowly dissolving, transforming, molding, and becoming one another. A gradient of pinks become blue become stars in the night sky become rainbows that cascade across the screen. The soundscape changes as music and dialogue interplay with one another – the diegetic/non-diegetic boundary continues to come undone as this plane of attributes coalesces into something before cutting to the next scene in the movie.
This living art piece is the framing device holding the elements of the movie together and is cut to at 4 critical junctures in the movie – moments of decision or change (this decision and resulting question being one of them) . The infinite array of sounds and changing visual schema represent the potential inherent to any decision – anything is possible. Highlighting the malleability of a situation by tying key junctures to the literal visual depiction of change helps drive home the importance of Barry’s decisions. However, Blake’s work also lets PTA say something about the act of cinema itself. It’s an assemblage of moving parts – lights, colors, sound, sound design, shapes, compositions, and so on- that can blend into an infinite array of phenomena. The particular presentation of a moment then, is incredibly important. It’s a distinct manifestation of the attributes done in an explicit way to elicit a feeling. As such it’s not just Barry’s decisions that are highlighted as important to the narrative, but also the auteur’s (and their respective cohorts) decisions to film scenes in certain ways.
Jeremy Blake’s constantly changing art piece serves as the framing mechanism that orders and matches the form, content, and themes of the movie into one cohesive breathing entity. This changing assemblage is a meditation on art, a deliberation on deliberation, love given a visual form, and the movie in its basest.
In Barry’s case – his decision involves love, hence the title of the movie. His awkward mannerisms and tendencies to hide in the shadows and become paralyzed are only the beginning of his character traits. As the movie continues, it’s clear that Barry is a man who struggles with his self image and doesn’t have full control over his impulses. He constantly commits Freudian slips, breaks into immense moments of emotional volatility, breaks things, awkwardly tries to get out of situations, and similar such behaviors. However, in spite of this he’s not a “bad guy”. It helps that Adam Sandler is naturally goofy and charming and those natural qualities bleed into his performance here. It’s this veneer of likability that gets us on his side cheering for him as opposed to against him and his manic patterns.
The movie uses every detail possible to showcase his developing agency, the way it manifests, and the way he feels about himself before and after such manifestations (identity). The movie uses colors, shadows, camera moves to highlight the way Barry sees and perceives every situation. White/yellow represent change and feel almost paralyzing. Change is horrifying and Barry spends much of time petrified in the white. Blue is the color of Barry. Obviously blue is connoted with a melancholy/depression which makes sense given where Barry is, but the color is more representative of his will. His fate and sense of being. Red is the color of Lena. It is the color of both love and violence. As evidenced by the red car and truck at the start of the movie, there’s both forces are explosive in their own right. Black is the color of determinacy – it represents a stabilization of attributes – a manifestation of the will. Characters constantly change their outfits in slight ways – changing colors to show their thought process and where they’re going to go. By adopting other characters’ colors, it’s evident that people can become a part of one another – that which was alone becomes part of a whole. Lens flares show moments of decision – the potential of a person activating a change and making a meaningful choice. These colors are draped in either a blinding light or a overwhelming shadow – the light and dark side of each of these colors – the duality between love and hate.
The innermost feeling of the characters are felt in the soundscape. As I have mentioned before, Brion’s work melds in seamlessly with the world of Punch Drunk Love. It is evocative and experimental – the sounds get under the skin like they’re being tapped or blown in the ear. It’s a direct and unforgettable kind of noise. It is also an explosion, turning beautiful and romantic at one moment to brutal and anxiety inducing at the next. There are other moments where the score fades to the background if not disappears altogether when something important is happening. For example, chaotic scenes might have a thumping score that ceases for a few moments as characters find a sense of peace.
Every single element of the movie works and is elevated because every point has a counterpoint (if not multiple) to tie together symbols and ideas into recognizable motifs- tying plot and theme together in an organic way that’s subconsciously understandable even if not particularly noticeable. The use of color, light, and certain musical cues only scratch the tip of the iceberg. In the same vein as Blue Velvet, the story is split and explores a seedy underbelly (violence) and a beautiful, charming, picket-fence world (love). Our protagonist has to navigate and deliberate between this split world and come up with a way of living in the world because his worldview is shattered/incomplete as of now. The counterpoints in each of these social spheres help reinforce the idea of love and hate being two sides of the same coin (as evidenced by the crash early on) – two instantiations of passion.
With Sandler and Watson’s performances as the leads along with more than satisfying performances from Hoffman and other members of the supporting cast, the movie feels fully realized. Sandler and Watson have a chemistry that’s undeniable – it helps keep the more absurd moments of the movie endearing, so they pass off as something heartfelt as opposed to disconcerting. Both of them bring something from the other and their relationship is one you cheer for. Sandler in particular taps into a darkness that gives his character the capacity to deal with both the light and dark worlds the movies present (a precursor of the depths he would end up going to in the more recent Uncut Gems).
As evidenced by the swarm of screenshots and stills, this is a movie where every frame has a purpose – a definite meaning. Every lens flare, every use of color, ever crash, every beat shift, every movement of the characters is purposeful and comes together to create what can only be called a true cinematic experience. I could spend hours just poring over the mise en scène, cinematography, shot composition, etc but the main point I want to emphasize is that the meticulous attention to detail more than pays off. Every symbol is introduced in a dynamic and distinctive way. Symbols are tied together to narrative cues and elements of the movie. The repetition of these motifs along with the symbols gives the movie a host of meanings that film nerds can get completely lost in. On top of this the score and pacing of scenes gives the movie a beat that every characters actions and decision seem to abide by – there’s even a moment where Barry dances in a grocery aisle that feels like it could be from a musical. This underlying rhythm helps keep the pace steady and consistent – even in quality from beginning to end. This is all then tied together by a framing mechanism that’s quite literally a meditation on art form – giving the formal decisions of the movie a resonance that can’t help but be appreciate.
It’s a movie that shows cinema as love. Every decision really is important and by giving such dedication to every element – big and small- PTA manages to take that love as plot point and transform it love as audience response. In the same way the non-diegetic music has the characters moving along to it, as if they can hear its reverberations making some kind of impact on the rhythm of the world, the movie has us completely entrapped by it. Without even knowing why, we’re wrapped up in a love story, a meditation on film, and a look at the way trauma manifests and can be resolved all without ever being hit over the head with it. We fall in love.
REPORT CARD
TLDR
Punch Drunk Love is a masterpiece that needs to be seen to be believed. It is a true demonstration of the potential of cinema as an art form , of cinema as a conduit to emotion. The way that formal elements are set up, utilized, referenced, and grouped into more discernible patterns shows that PTA has made every decision deliberately. Symbols and their respective ideas are shown explicitly, subtly, and repeatedly with multiple scenes constantly hammering the connections between different ideas. From the everything is color coded to the way the score transforms the movie into a spiritual musical , this is a movie that really has something for everybody. It’s funny, charming, disturbing, heartwarming, beautiful, meditative, and everything in between – a potential that’s constantly giving .
Rating
10/10
Grade
A+
Go to Page 2 for the spoiler discussion. Go to Page 3 to view this review’s progress report .
Taissa Farmiga as Max Malin Åkerman as Nancy / Amanda Alia Shawkat as Gertie Alexander Ludwig as Chris Nina Dobrev as Vicki Thomas Middleditch as Duncan Adam DeVine as Kurt Angela Trimbur as Tina Daniel Norris as Billy Murphy
Release Date
2015
Language(s)
English
Running Time
91 minutes
After losing her mother, Amanda, in a tragic accident, Max and a group of her friends go to a fan screening of the popular Camp Bloodbath, a Friday the 13th ripoff Amanda starred in decades before. However, during the screening things go awry and Max and her friends find themselves trapped in the world of the slasher movie with no explanation as to how they got there or how to get out. Faced with no other option, the group is forced to play along with the narrative to find a way back to the real world.
Now if the synopsis didn’t make it clear enough, this is a movie that’s a love letter to 80’s slasher movies, especially those from the Friday the 13thfranchise. From Camp Bloodbath’s “KiKiKi MaMaMa”- based parody theme to the increasingly caricatured acting from the fictional movie’s cast, every trope you know and love is here and is ready to be celebrated. However, what sets the movie apart from other slasher comedies is the emotional center that serves as the movies main through line. The story opens on Max and Amanda and demonstrates just how much the mother-daughter duo depends on one another. The latter, having been typecast as sexy bimbo who gets killed due to her involvement with the slasher cult hit, is desperate to find a role that will let her be a real star, while the latter fawns over her mom while dealing with tasks like managing the bills. Watching Amanda dies it’s clear that Max’s world is shattered and Farmiga conveys her characters grief by going from bubbly and filled with life to desolate and lethargic. That’s why her journey into a movie where her mom was a star hits so hard – it’s her chance to reunite and deal with the trauma in a moving, albeit unconventional way.
On the right, Max (Taissa Farmiga) bonds with her mom, Amanda (Malin Åkerman), before the latter’s untimely death. Once she gets trapped in the world of Camp Bloodbath, she gets to bond with her mom’s breakout character, Nancy, who gives her a spiritual chance at bonding with her mom one more time. The relationship between these 2(3?) is the heart of the movie and gives it an unexpected emotional weight.
It’s this emotional center that elevates the usual slasher formula into something that gets you to cheer for the characters success because even the stock caricatures get an extra level of depth due to their humanizing connection to the actual actors. Max relating to her Amanda’s character Nancy reminds us that there’s an actor hiding behind every character that seeps and pervades through the representations we see on screen. This makes the clash between the “real” life characters – Max, Gertie, Chris, Vicky, and Duncan- and the movie’s characters – Nancy, Tina, Amanda, and co. – enthralling because they twist the perceptions we have of stock characters and gives them a chance to show us something more. It also injects the movie with a healthy dose of existential humor as the Bloodbath characters are forced to reckon with their fictional makeup in contrast to something more “real”, begging the question of what reality even is.
It’s this playing with reality that gives the movie its unique comedic angle, setting it apart from the sea of slasher comedies that have come to inundate the market post Scream. Duncan, the Camp Bloodbath super fan, acts like the Randy of the movie and explains the worlds tropes and plot mechanisms – there’s a final girl who happens to be a virgin, people die when they have sex, and so on – while giving the audience the perfect nerd to cheer alongside. He helps the group determine the rules of the movie-turned-reality so that they can break and manipulate them to figure out a way to get out. Max and co. realize near the start of the movie that they can’t leave the story without playing along in a comedic scene that shows the Camp Bloodbath staff driving by the characters every 92 minutes (the run-time of the in-universe movie). Waiting just introduces another playthrough, so they’re forced to take action.
The group is stuck in a loop where the movie plays back-to-back on loop, until they decide to make themselves part of the in-universe movie’s story.
As they become more familiar with the way slasher conventions work, they engage in some pretty ingenious mechanisms to bypass typical scenes to increase their chances of survival. On the flipside, some of their experiments don’t work out as well which introduce some bleak, yet hilarious moments that keep the audience constantly guessing as to what the next step is going to be. The result is a movie that plays along with our expectations while subverting them at every turn. The more you know about slashers, the more fun you end up having because the game becomes guessing how the trope will be subverted instead of witnessing the trope happening.
In an attempt to highlight this constantly changing perspective, the movie makes wonderful use of a constantly moving camera. There are quite a few arc shots (where the camera moves steadily in a circle) that highlight the absurdist nature of the movie’s narrative, reinforce the idea of the characters being stuck in loops of sorts, and constantly highlighting the juxtaposition of the story of Camp Bloodbath against the injunction of real life characters. One of my favorite moments in the movie involves a characters getting brutally killed after thinking they’re safe as the camera starts turning in a circle and zooming in highlighting just how wrong they actually were. The movement keeps us as disoriented as the characters and adds another layer of empathy as we realize that neither us or Max and co. know exactly what’s going on.
Complimenting this visual vertigo is the narrative whiplash that occurs as modern “real” people interact with outdated 80’s slasher stereotypes and dive beneath their personas. Homophobia and sexual objectification meet their modern match which allows the movie to lampshade its baser fun with bits of commentary. In one scene, Kurt, the prototypical jock/sex fiend, makes some bigoted jokes to Chris which are quickly shot down by the latter’s more open worldview, but the presence of a challenge to the retort forces Kurt to delve deeper (not that much) into what he actually thinks. Moments like these between the different intersections of characters allows the movie to relish in its homage while making comments on the side without ever coming off as too obnoxious or on the nose.
It helps that every single member of the star studded cast nails their performances, with special kudos given to the Camp Bloodbath members who are forced to play both a caricature and a deconstruction of those same stereotypes as they figure out their true metaphysical makeup. DeVine nails the contemptible player persona from the laid back and confident posturing to the arrogant smirk he keeps on his face. Meanwhile, Trimbur makes the slutty, sexy girl who typically dies first far more energetic and expressive than she has any right to be by injecting a manic ton of energy into contorting her body and facial muscles. Being the emotional center of the movie, both Farmiga and Ackerman bring a surprising amount of tenderness to the story, displaying a real sense of vulnerability with one another. There are moments in the third act that tug at the heartstrings because of how believable their real and fictional bond is built up and played out. In particular, Ackerman nails the fictional character realizing that they’re both real and not real with some expressions that exude fear and love simultaneously.
The only things holding the movie back are some less than stellar CGI elements along with some story moves that feel like they should’ve paid off in bigger and grander ways. The movie plays so well with sub-genre conventions that the presence of such overt and modern digital effects feels completely out of place.
One of the bad CGI renderings that threatens to distract the audience from the beauty of the movie. This scene of a car crash feels like a cut-scene from a PS2 game and feels out of place compared to the realism of what came before.
If these were a one-off occurrence it’d be fine, but these issues crop up enough during the run-time to feel like an issue. Given how clever the movie is with playing with sub-genre conventions, I was surprised that these moments weren’t rendered with cheesy and over-the-top practical effects to keep with the 80’s slasher energy. Adding to this is the soft rules approach the movie utilizes to keep the pace going. As I mentioned earlier, the tropes that are recognized are subverted in ways that aren’t expected which keeps an underlying sense of mystery and tension at bay, but because there are no clear and fast rules there are definitely some moments that just come off as odd. The movie can just explain them away as anomalies like everything else, but that comes off feeling lazy with how intricate other scenarios play out. If these moments were capitalized on and explained in the context of the story or breaking certain tropes, the movie would’ve felt more cohesive and tightly knit.
That being said, what we get is a heartfelt, clever, and truly funny movie that any slasher fan should give a watch. Every character feels distinct and interesting, despite the fact that some of them are walking caricatures, and watching their inevitable clashes among one another is constantly entertaining. Even though it’s comedic, the movie wants to be more than just funny and constantly combines its humor with epic visual compositions and narrative shifts that demonstrate just how much love went into the worldbuilding. The riffing and appreciation of sub-genre tropes plays well with the way they’re subverted and gives the movie a constant energy that should keep you invested from start to finish.
REPORT CARD
TLDR
The Final Girls shows that horror comedy very much has more room to explore in its ingenious design. The story of characters getting trapped in a slasher movie explores and relishes in genre conventions, while at the same time upending them to great effect. The effect is a dark absurdist comedy with an emotionally resonant center that keeps the otherwise fantastical elements feeling grounded, yet entertaining. Horror fans – slasher fans especially – should check this love letter to the sub-genre if they haven’t already. It’s sure to entertain and leave you wanting more.
Rating
9.1/10
Grade
A
Go to Page 2 for the spoiler discussion. Go to Page 3 to view this review’s progress report .
Nathan Baesel as Leslie Vernon Angela Goethals as Taylor Robert Englund as Doc Halloran Kate Lang Johnson as Kelly Ben Pace as Doug Britain Spellings as Todd Scott Wilson as Eugene Bridgett Newton as Jamie
Release Date
2006
Language(s)
English
Running Time
92 minutes
The movie opens in typical slasher style – a POV shot of a teenager, Kelly, as she’s putting the garbage out. She feels someone looking at her before hearing the door behind her slam. She runs away, at which point the aspect ratio changes from a cinematic shot to one that you’d see on an old school television. The movie has transitioned from slasher movie to a TV news report as Taylor, the program’s host, narrates the terrors that slasher villain’s have wreaked on small towns all across America. She mentions the antagonists we all know and love – Jason Voorhees, Freddy Kreuger, and Michael Myers- before revealing that her crew and her are here to interview a new and upcoming serial killer who hopes to live up to the legends. His name is Leslie Vernon.
Taylor (Angela Goethals) standing in front of Leslie’s house, preparing for her interview with the serial killer hopeful.
The crew comprised of Taylor and her two cameramen, Doug and Todd, seek to understand Leslie’s methods – how will he do what he plans and what motivates him to commit such heinous acts. However, their first encounter with the titular antagonist is surprisingly comedic. Leslie doesn’t come out all twisted and ready to kill. Instead, he’s cordial and jovial, constantly joking around with the crew as he goes around and explains his training regimen and planned deed. The casual way he describes the way his family and himself were brutally murdered in the past (origin story) to the nonchalant way he shows the crew how to isolate a perfect group of teen victims, comprised of some virile go-getters (sexually promiscuous teens), slow movers (body count fodder), and a virgin survivor girl (final girl) induce a strange normalcy that lulls the crew and the audience with them into becoming comfortable with the whole display. He explains that his next target is the girl from the start, Kelly, and her friends. His hope is upon completing the massacre of the group, he’ll achieve a legendary status akin to his heroes.
Most of the movie follows this inverse slasher format. Leslie is interviewed in an almost talk show like format, sitting across from Taylor and answering questions about his occupation as though it’s akin to any other. Like any enthused film analyst, he eagerly reveals the tropes of the genre – red herrings, AHABs (think people like Captain Ahab from Moby Dick ), and the like- while also spending time delving into the Yonic and Phallic subtext behind a lot of the typical slasher set pieces – weapons being penis-shaped on purpose or closets representing a place of innocence due to their closeness to a Mother’s womb.
Taylor (Angela Goethals) interviewing Leslie (Nathan Baesel) as if they’re talking about an everyday matter on a TV talk show when in fact they’re discussing how the latter’s murderous intentions and ideas.
Given that Taylor and her crew are documenting his rise, the camera also switches from these documentary like explanations to a cinematic slasher style like the beginning shot taking the lessons Leslie has given the crew and us and demonstrating them to full effect. In many ways, the movie operates like a slasher dialect by breaking down each and every element and convention of the genre, having Leslie give a thematic explanation of the same, getting some pushback from Taylor and crew, and then bringing it all together in an actual demonstration of everything and bringing the process to a full circle. It’s clever, informative, and most importantly elevates the movie to a true horror comedy, not sacrificing horror for comedy or vice versa. They both feed into one another.
The first image shows Todd zooming in on Kelly’s (Kate Lang Johnson) “assets” in documentary fashion. His sexual focus is a direct reference to the way slasher movies play up the sexual proclivities of their characters, giving the audience a buffet of sexual images along with their violence. The immediate transition from documentary style to the enactment of the violence scheme in the second image, which shows Leslie (Nathan Baesel) getting ready to kill a librarian (Zelda Rubinstein ), showcasing the movies ability to flip from inquisition to action at a moments notice.
That’s the true genius of Behind the Mask – it never forgets that it’s trying to be scary. Setting up its plot in such a way helps gets the audience to identify with the camera crew while being on the side of Leslie. How can such a gregarious fellow be heinous? Even as he explains with his serial killer mentor, Eugene (Billy from Black Christmas) , that his role is to serve as a cultural evil in a fight against an eternal good, thereby making it crystal clear that he’s nefarious , we don’t believe it. Even when the movie reminds us of what a danger he is with the slasher type scenes where he brutally butchers innocent people after discussing their deaths’ purpose in relation to his master plan, we’re desensitized to it. The inversion of the slasher formula, having the villain be the protagonist , reveals the gambit the movie is going for – informing us of the level of evil we make ourselves complicit in to get entertainment. As if to drive this point home, as the murders get more intense Leslie slowly reveals just how menacing he really is, as his niceties with the crew peel away whenever they get too close to messing with his intricately laid out plain. Since Scream, no movie has so brazenly told the audience the rules of the horror world its characters inhabit, actively follow those rules to tremendous effect, and then reveal that everything its been telling you should have been taken more seriously. The only difference being Behind the Mask raises the stakes by directly placing us face to face with evil incarnate. It’s a gamble that could have failed spectacularly, but because of the level of commitment put in to create an immersive world and the clever pacing to keep the audience captivated, it pays off.
The reason this duplicity works despite being in plain sight is due to the actors and their respective abilities to flip the script at a moment’s notice. Baesel somehow channels both a warm friendship that makes him feel more similar to a buddy character from a sitcom while easily being able to transition to a psycho killer as though each personality fits into the other. There’s no incongruities at all. Never once did I think a flip was too sudden or out of place. He’s funny, charming, terrifying, and enigmatic all at the same time. Goethals is the perfect counterbalance to Baesel and plays naturally off him in every scene. As the reporter in charge of the strange project, she has the difficult job of both balancing a professional outlook to the subject matter while being unequally unnerved by it. Her ability to emote with gestures and facial reactions conveys the ambiguity she feels about what she’s doing. For example, when her character meets Eugene she goes from inquisitive to terrified and back all within a few moments. Not a beat is missed in conveying the discordant emotions. The natural progression of her relationship with Baesel feels authentic and gives the movie a genuine emotional touch that it has no right having. It makes the way the third act play out something to behold.
Now is the movie perfect? No. There are some slight logistical issues – like how a news team would even get in touch with someone who claims to be the next coming of Krueger or Myers, especially with no backup or protection. It’s a detail that the movie brushes off thematically, but it’s narrative implications become more odd as the story progresses . It never threatens to derail the story, but does stick out given how tightly knit the rest of the movies worldbuilding seems to be. My second issue has more to do with the framing behind the more traditional slasher scenes . Given how in- depth the subtextual and trope analysis is done earlier in the film, I expected a visual panache that would match it. I was expecting stylized kill-scenes a la Halloween or A Nightmare on Elm Street, but instead got something that feels basic compared to the intricacy of everything that came before it. That’s not to say the visual style isn’t impressive – the camera switching from a documentary style to a cinematic style definitely showcases how lighting and proper contrast turn a normal scene into something scary- rather, it just feels like a missed opportunity the movie could have gone for to really hit a homerun. I’m grateful that at the very least there’s no awful shaky cam or obfuscation of the kill scenes – everything is clearly on display- I just wanted more.
That being said, Behind the Mask: The Rise of Leslie Vernon is definitely a movie that earns its stripes. Very rarely do horror comedies so deftly weave both the terrifying and comedic elements so well, and the way the movie navigates between both modes through its mockumentary to cinematic story approach is refreshing and gives the movie a unique identity in a sea of horror deconstruction movies. Not since Scream has there been this much creativity in breaking down and executing horror, and if that’s not high praise I don’t know what is. The way the movie moves through a dialect- segmenting elements of the genre, explaining them, going through a discussion of them, and demonstrating them in their full form- makes it required watching for any slasher fan.
REPORT CARD
TLDR
Behind the Mask: The Rise of Leslie Vernon is the rare breed of movie that manages to elicit laughter at the same as time as it sends shivers down your spine The mockumentary style feature on an up-and-coming serial killer, Leslie Vernon, feels like fun and games as he casually discusses his murderous plans all while explaining slasher tropes, themes, and metaphoric imagery. However, it quickly becomes serious as the documentary style shooting is traded for a more cinematic traditional slasher style that puts Leslie’s explanations to good use. The inversion of the slasher formula along with the movie’s clever and well planned out documentary/cinematic shuffle helps to deliver a movie that genre fans should not miss out on.
Rating
9.6/10
Grade
A+
Go to Page 2 for the spoiler discussion. Go to Page 3 to view this review’s progress report .
Takayuki Hamatsu as Higurashi Mao as Mao Harumi Shuhama as Nao Yuzuki Akiyama as Chinatsu Kazuaki Nagaya as Ko Manabu Hosoi as Hosoda Hiroshi Ichihara as Kasahara
Release Date
2017
Language(s)
Japanese
Running Time
97 minutes
In a lot of ways, One Cut of the Dead, is like The Cabin in the Woods. It’s a love letter to horror filmmaking and a dissection of of genre clichés masquerading as a horror movie. However unlike it’s western counterpart, this movie focuses more on the beauty of the film making process and its relation to horror as opposed to playing with horror tropes in general. As the title indicates, it’s a zombie movie shot in one uninterrupted cut, a B movie premise that attempts to elevate itself through camerawork and direction. It’s this elaborate display of style and juxtaposition with it’s schlocky content that gives this horror comedy a genuine life of its own.
The movie starts with an obviously fake looking scene, as an idol looking girl, Chinatsu, is attacked by a zombie, played by Ko. From the way she cries to the zombie reaching out to her to the lack of facial change as Ko bites into her, it’s apparent that the movie feels like a farce. Outraged at the lack of genuine emotion, Higurashi, the director stops the scene and verbally eviscerates his actors for being unable to display any real emotion and for actively interfering with his ability to produce the best movie possible. After being pushed aside, he angrily leaves the building the shoot is going on in. As he leaves, Ko goes to comfort Chinatsu and the duo start to talk to another member of the staff, Nao, who attempts to pacify their worries about the director. She even shows off them a new self defense technique she’s been learning – the “Pom” release method – to get the cast and crew back in good spirits.
The “Pom” defensive technique requires yelling “Pom!”, bending down , and shooting one’s hands up. Nao (Harumi Shuhama) demonstrates the procedure on Ko (Kazuaki Nagaya) as the trio waits for the director to come back from his tantrum.
Meanwhile outside of the building, Katsuhara, one of the cast members, sees an obviously sick looking man, Hosoda, wondering around. He jokes that the latter looks good enough to be a zombie in the movie and offers him a part, until Hosoda throws his body on the unsuspecting crew member and hurls his guts all over him, infecting him with something. Katsuhara’s previously calm demeanor turns deadly serious as he realizes this is happening for real. Just as the trio inside starts to get comfortable and back into their groove, Katsuhara, stumbles into the room with one his arms having been removed, blood dripping down his sleeve. At first the trio thinks of it as a joke, until Ko feels his pulse and realizes he’s dead. Before he can compose his thoughts, Hosoda attempts to break into the building, his eyes bulging out and blood dripping from his face. He attempts to attack the group before pushed aside. It’s at this moment the director comes back in and reveals that he completed a blood ceremony on the rooftop to bring to life some real zombies. His hope being that the injection of a real source of danger will be enough to get some genuine reactions out of his actors. Finally realizing that their director and his camera crew are fully serious on capturing their authentic reactions even at the cost of their safety, the trio reacts accordingly and runs for their life.
The story plays out in a way that’s simultaneously hilarious and disturbing as the cast is constantly put in unpredictable situations to get the best possible shot. The whole time Higurashi runs with his camera, screaming “Action!” at the top of his lungs, completely selling the mad artist angle. Even if it’s not the zombie movie he must have originally envisioned the show must go on and his absolute madness and willingness to change the script for the best result is what makes it so entertaining. It’s a strange artistic phenomena because the B movie suddenly becomes injected with a profound sense of energy. The fake nature of it becomes tinged and then infused with bits of realness as the pre-ordained story gives way to an adaptation in the face of new events. The cast members genuinely transform into aggressive characters bent on surviving the ordeal. Their actor personas are discardedin favor of actual survival skills in the face of the impending zombie apocalpyse. Their real personalities take over the façade they presented up to this point. For example, the playful Nao becomes downright malicious, fully embracing the bloody onslaught. Meanwhile the previously unemotive Chinatsu becomes absolutely terrified, as she’s forced to deal with the off-script shenanigans.
Nao (Harumi Shuhama) fully snapped dealing with the situation of acting against the unknown dangers present. Fully ready to kill anyone who gets in her way, she emanates a dangerous aura.
While all the action is unfolding, the camera never breaks from its continuous shot. Even during the strange moments where the crew is unsure of how to react to the idea they’re dealing with real zombies, the camera constantly lingers and keeps what’s important in the frame. As Higurashi chases the crew literally throwing zombies at them, the camera follows the madness at breakneck pace. The movie even reveals the cinematographer/videographer is really part of the story, as their hands come to clean blood off the screen to ensure that the shot is visible.
The cinematographer wipes zombie blood off the camera frame as he chases Ko (Kazuaki Nagaya) and Chinatsu (Yuzuki Akiyama)
The idea of the cinematographer running between crew members and zombies is hilarious, but they embrace the director’s frenetic energy and keep the main job in priority- producing a good movie despite the costs. It’s an absolutely mad balancing act that only gets better as the movie goes on and reveals the lengths that every member of the cast goes through to survive the filming ordeal (crew members becoming zombies incapable of following the script tends to cause things to go off the rails).
This is because at the heart of the movie is a discussion about art – the way we think about certain pieces of media being artistic versus others just being entertainment- the line between schlock and arthouse. Every perception is challenged as the fake movie gives way to a real, living assemblage of movie making that demonstrates the power of embracing chaos and adapting to the situation to make something truly staggering. Sure there are a few issues. Are some of the effects corny? Yes. Is the camera movement a bit suspect at times? Yes . Are there awkward pauses between characters as they struggle to deal with the madness they’re forced to endure? Yes. However, in spite of all these issues the movie manages to do what it sets out to do – tell a continuously shot one cut horror story about zombies. The fact that some of the in-camera editing can even happen as briskly as it can is testament to the hard work that goes on to sell the scenes. The fact the camera stays on the action the whole time in spite of the troubles caused by forces outside of the videographers control is testament to their willpower and strength in lugging a camera in tumultuous situations. The fact that the actors can pull out as much emotion as they do when push comes to shove is testament to their malleability in difficult circumstances. Even if the illusion of the story is something that’s hard to believe at times, the dedication to delivering a moving picture is something that leaps off the screen and shows that even cheap gore can be elevated into something to be admired.
If you’re looking for a film that genuinely scares you, this isn’t it. However, if you’re looking for a film that celebrates and demonstrates the power of horror, look no further. From the quirky story to the way characters reveal their real selves as chaos on the set ensues, this is a movie that’s an absolute blast to watch. You may not leave the movie frightened, but you will leave impressed with the power of filmmaking and the trial and tribulations gone through by every member of the cast and crew in delivering a piece that’s truly special.
REPORT CARD
TLDR
One Cut of the Dead is an innovative and moving love letter to B horror movies that demonstrates just how magical they can really be. From the continuous unbroken take to the layered and complex plot, this is a movie that really demonstrates the trials and tribulations gone through to make a movie, even one where the pacing of the plot and the practical effects aren’t the most lavish. If you’re a horror fan (especially of movies like Evil Dead), give this movie a watch. You won’t regret it.
Rating
10/10
Grade
A+
Go to Page 2 for the spoiler discussion (given the nature of the movie there’s quite a lot here). Go to Page 3 to view this review’s progress report
Quinn Lord as Sam Dylan Baker as Principal Wilkins Anna Paquin as Laurie Brian Cox as Mr.Kreeg Samm Todd as Rhonda Leslie Bibb as Emma
Release Date
2007
Language(s)
English
Running Time
82 minutes
Trick R’Treat has been my go-to Halloween movie since I first saw it back in the early periods of high school. Since that first watch through, I’ve seen it once a year every year always on the 1st of October to get myself amped up for the rest of the month. No other movie so perfectly manages to capture the quintessential aspects of Halloween while telling them in a way that makes full use of every trick or treat in the book. This is a movie that’s simultaneously heartwarming, hilarious, and horrifying all while staying true to the spirit of the holiday.
This is majorly due to the ingenious script and direction by Michael Dougherty, who somehow managed to create an anthology movie that makes full use of all its parts and sub-stories to create a one-of-a-kind narrative that constantly keeps you on your toes. That’s right – this is an anthology movie that actually works as a cohesive narrative despite lacking any “real protagonist”. The movie starts off with a small instructional video tape that quickly warns its supposed audience to follow the rules of the Halloween before cutting to the “real” story.
Safety video starting slide
It’s a short and quick reminder to the audience – the rules are important and the rules determine everything. The rest of the movie is just a warning for those foolish enough to not heed the easy-to-follow instructions, which thankfully for the audience, happens to be the majority of the characters we follow.
The first sub-plot in the movie makes it clear that the penalty for not following rules is death before cleverly using a match-cut from the mangled corpse to a comic book strip depicting the events up till then.
Emma’s (Leslie Bibb) death in comic strip form. A retelling of the events up till the moment.
The transition is effective not only because of how seamless it feels but because of what it reveals of the story to come – a seemingly disconnected series of events whose relation will only become clear as time goes on. As this comic montage plays out, key clues are given for each of the sub-plots to come. It’s intriguing as a first-time viewer, but it also demonstrates just how much planning went into planning each storyline to multiple-time viewers. The invocation of the transmedia narrative seeps into these early moments of Trick R’Treat and gives the piece a distinctive flair.
Every single detail from the miniscule background characters to random noises gets explored as different seemingly unrelated storylines intersect with one another. What seems to be an innocuous clearly turns out to be lethal, while what seems to be deadly turned out to be nothing to worry about. By making constant reference to and use of both horror cliches and the customs of Halloween, the movie manages to constantly subvert audience expectations in ways that feel earned and clever. Never once did I see a reveal in the movie and think it came out of nowhere. The more I watch the movie, the more I realize just how many breadcrumbs Doughtery leaves the audience to piece together some of the nastier reveals before they actually happen. The movie is told more poetically than it is linearly but the way the timeline is revealed and explored both internally makes sense and externally leads to the biggest “Eureka” moments. The moment you think you’ve got the twist another one completely flips what you thought on its head and it’s genuinely delightful watching it all come together.
What keeps all the incongruous elements in harmony with each other is the protagonist-of-sorts, Sam (short for Samhain- very clever). The child like creature with the dopy straw mask doesn’t seem like a lot, but the moment someone breaks a rule of the holiday you’ll understand that just because it looks cute doesn’t mean it won’t murder you in the most horrifying way possible. The way the movie uses dissolve transitions between jack-o-lanterns or the blood red moon back and to Sam augment his presence as omnipotent and omnipresent.
Dissolve transition showing how Sam becomes the blood red moon watching over the town.
He literally is the spirit of Halloween watching over all and ensuring that the customs are being followed. The best part of his characterization is the balance struck between making him a terror and childlike. You’ll go from smiling at his presence to going “Oh God, that’s why you don’t break the rules.” Never once does he feel malicious and the movie exemplifies this with some key moments during the climax. It’s the reason why Sam has endured so long as a symbol of the holiday (and why I so badly want a sequel by Dougherty to come out). He’s just one of the best horror characters to come out this side of the 21st century.
On a technical level – the movie knocks all the gory details out of the park. There’s plenty of blood, dismemberment, supernatural creatures, and a healthy amount of bodily fluids to go around. You like a good dead body display? Got it. Want to see some supernatural shenanigans with body parts moving around by themselves? Also, here. Need to see some monster transformations? Why didn’t you say so sooner? The way the effects all come together make the movie feel like horror movie grab bag of fun effects and neat executions – all of which are just as much fun to see as the ones coming before and after them. There’s not a single scene of violence which isn’t fun to watch, not only because the characters have it “coming to them” for breaking the rules, but because the movie gives us more than enough reason to actively want these characters to suffer. The best part? Outside of an early scene involving a lot of vomit, no scene feels gratuitous to the point of feeling like torture porn. Nor does any scene feel like it pulls its punches. It all just works right.
If I had an issue with the movie, it’s that all the separate sub-plots fit a bit too neatly into one another. It seems like a nitpick, and at some level it is, but as characters and story events are brought to light they come off feeling more like ways to tie everything together than organic revelations. It’s at these moments that I wish the movie pushed more heavily into the transmedia elements set up at the start of the movie, because the constant reference back to each story being a story in a graphic novel series of sorts would add some additional cohesion. If more bits and pieces of characters’ backstories were revealed in these moments, then the later reveals would feel earned and clever as opposed to just the latter. Is this a huge issue? Not at all. Honestly, the fact that all these elements fit together is proof enough of the talent that went into both the script and the editing process. Someone who said these criticisms are a non-issue wouldn’t get any protest from me, because there’s still no movie out there that better encapsulates the spirits and traditions of Halloween.
REPORT CARD
TLDR
If you’re looking for a fun movie to get your Halloween started look no further. Trick R’ Treat is every Halloween fan’s nightmare come to life. From the immaculate narrative construction to the transmedia presentation this is a movie that should delight casual fans while giving horror fans more than enough to sink their teeth into. If you haven’t seen the movie go ahead and give it a watch. If you’ve already seen it and didn’t think it was for you, give it another whirl and look at the way all the plots are set-up to build into/lead into one another. Who knows? You might find something you missed out on before.
Rating
9.6/10
Grade
A+
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
Munro Chambers as The Kid Laurence Leboeuf as Apple Aaron Jeffrey as Frederic Michael Ironside as Zeus Edwin Wright as Skeletron
Release Date
2015
Language(s)
English
Running Time
95 minutes
Turbo Kid is possibly one of the most endearing movies I’ve seen in the past decade and is a movie I genuinely think will be a cult classic in a few years. I have no idea why this genre-defying one-of-a-kind love letter to the 80’s and early 90’s that manages to package a heartwarming message with an off -the-walls chaotic story in a way that makes sense has managed to be so overlooked and underrated. If you thought that sentence was a run-on, you’re not even ready for the roller-coaster of frenetic energy that is this absolute shot of adrenaline to the heart. If you’ve been looking for a movie to just find that spark or feel some genuine joy , in these times especially, and the trailer seems like it’s up your alley, do yourself a favor and watch this ASAP. As of 3/27/20 it’s available on Amazon Video and is free for Prime Members.
The movie follows the Kid, a teenager scavenging a post-apocalyptic 1997 wasteland for artifacts to trade in for food, water, and most importantly , comic books featuring the hero (and the Kid’s role model) Turbo Rider. When our fairly reticent protagonist runs into the bubbly,high-energy, pink-haired delight that is Apple he gets unnerved by her overt kindness and tries to escape to his underground lair. Thankfully, his attempts to get away are thwarted as Apple manages to find him. Once he realizes he’s stuck with her, the two strike up a friendship that is threatened by Zeus, the man who claims dominion over the wastelands. Forced into action, both the Kid and Apple have to find a way to survive against all odds.
I won’t spoil the journey, but the way the movie jumps from bit to bit is genius and reflects an adept understanding and appreciation of 80’s and 90’s culture. It’s not so pronounced as to distract from the overall story or the themes, but it will definitely elicit a chuckle from fans of the time period. For example, Frederic, a cowboy who feels like a Clint Eastwood character from a Western, is tough as nails and is best known for being a champion arm-wrestler. You read that right. Forget gun-slinging. Turbo Kid‘s post-apocalyptic universe uses arm-wrestling with high stakes as the principle mode of competition. I couldn’t stop laughing when I saw the first match go down as though it was a serious shoot out. Turbo Rider’s blaster looks exactly like Mega-Man‘s arm cannon which is a great reference. It’s made comical because despite such technology existing, Apple and the Kid have to traverse the environment on bicycles. The juxtaposition of the futuristic and the retro creates this cool feeling of being somewhere different but familiar.
The story works and is allowed to get away with these absurdities because the core relationship between the Kid and Apple is heartwarming and filled with a real spirit. It’s the glue that holds every other element of the story together. It starts with just how much life both our lead actors bring to their roles. Chambers is great at portraying that awkward shy loner type that the Kid starts off as. He feels like he lacks a genuine of knowledge at how to deal with a social butterfly like Apple is both endearing and comedic in it’s own right. You can tell from his facial expressions and awkward physical posturing he’s not used to social situations at all , let alone with gregarious pink haired girls. He’s stuck, alone, in the wasteland and can’t help but running from the first sign of amicability. It’s what makes his subsequent relationship with Apple so meaningful. It’s not that she’s his sole reason for doing anything. It’s more so that she sparks in him a desire to change by demonstrating a genuine appreciation of life and its simplicity (a slight crush doesn’t hurt). Likewise, Leboeuf absolutely knocks it out of the park as Apple. Her genuine love and excitement for each and every little thing is infectious and completely feels genuine. I was shocked at how much I believed her eccentricities instead of laughing at them. She somehow manages to convey it all through her gaze, which she holds for these precise periods of time that somehow convey her enthusiasm and energy authentically. It sounds weird to describe it, but if you watch the movie you’l get what I’m saying. Both of them play off each other so well and you can genuinely feel the friendship budding and blooming between them. It’s natural and actually goes through some serious issues in a way that’s lighthearted and authentic.
A common criticism I’ve seen (and felt after I watched the trailer) is that Apple’s your typical Manic Pixie Dream Girl who exists for the sole sake of motivating the Kid to go on and embrace life for what it is. I’m happy to report that the movie never falls into the same trappings. The storytelling and setting make it apparent that the Kid hasn’t had a friend in forever , so Apple serves as a much-needed social companion for a fairly alienated fellow. Furthermore, Apple has her own desires, chief of which is being the Kid’s friend. While there are hints of romance between the two (which feel cute and natural as opposed to forced) , the focus is on their friendship and what that means to each of them in an increasingly desolate world. The reason I cheered for them to overcome all the odds wasn’t so they could end up being a couple or having some final kiss. It’s because it’s clear they have so much fun just exploring the world and interacting with each other that I can’t help but get invested. It’s an infectious joy and their friendship feels emotionally poignant and grounded despite the nature of the story.
Now all of this story and character work would’ve been great on it’s own, but it’s elevated to the next level because of the sheer aesthetic that is Turbo Kid. From the beautiful and vibrant costumes that help the characters stand out from the background to the amazing props that feel like items taken straight out of video-games the movie feels like a fever dream come true. As a huge horror fan, the slapstick gore is what served as the cherry on the top. There are huge bursts of blood and body mutilation during key action scenes but they come off as morbidly comedy. These moments don’t happen every-time violence goes down and only happens when it serves as a comedic punchline to a moment. The synth score absolutely delivers on all fronts and is actually MEMORABLE in a sea of 80’s synth score homages. I could actually feel the spectrum of emotions as different pieces came on, each one only playing when absolutely necessary, coming into the background like the theme song would in a video-games. When everything starts lining up, you can tell that this movie is genuine through and through and has a cohesive and resonant message at the heart of it.
REPORT CARD
TLDR
Turbo Kid is a love letter to 80’s and 90’s movies that takes inspiration from a hodgepodge of sources and manages to incorporate all of them in a cohesive, thematically tight, and genuinely touching story. The core friendship between the main characters is one of the most touching I’ve seen in a long time and gives the movie a touching spirit that’s rare. If you need a cheer me up and can let go of your cynicism for a while, I think you’ll find a lot to love in this deft genre-blending gem of a movie
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 .
