This movie proves immensely hard to review. I think I’ve written,deleted, and re-written this review multiple times but nothing seems to really encapsulate the difficulty that is The House That Jack Built. The movie follows Jack, a serial killer with OCD, who recounts a series of his murders juxtaposed against a discussion of art, architecture, violence, and beauty . It’s a one of the kind movie that isn’t something everyone should watch.
The movie is brutal. Not just brutal as in gore. Brutal as in some of the scenes in the movie are genuinely depraved, intentionally made to just shock you and offend your senses. There are awful scenes involving animals and children. Some people might think the movie is overindulgent in its violence. It can definitely feel misogynistic as each victim feels more and more like a caricature of women being violated. They’re nothing like real people. The thing is, that’s the point. The excessive focus on these victims is artistic preference , not a larger commentary on women. Or is it?
The movie’s violence is in service of questioning the very idea of what counts as proper art. Is it just pieces that follow the lines and dictates of a sensible society? At a surface level a lot of Jack’s tales feel incredibly unrealistic and I can see a lot of people feeling like Jack is making fun of the situations for the sake of lavish scenes with gratuitous violence. But on a closer look , it is precisely these exaggerations and flourishes that highlight just how sick Jack is. We’re never told he’s narrating these stories as they’ve exactly happened. It’s all according to his interpretation of the stories. Given his narcissistic and obsessive personality, it’s not far-fetched to assume that each of these interactions is part truth and part caricature. Figuring out what’s what changes the way these scenes play out and also what they mean in the grander scheme of what the movie sets out to critique.
The movie is edited in a way that makes the subject matter more thematically poignant. Jack narrates each of his murders in the first person to an unseen person, Verge. The murders play, but are accompanied by commentary, tangents by Jack, and cut-aways to “genuine” pieces of art(his own works included). The movie is interspersed in between these sections, almost a provocation that the movie is high art in a similar fashion. It gives the movie a strange introspective documentary feeling that keep it feeling sophisticated, while also provoking discussion on the position of the movie in relation to what we consider aesthetic.
Matt Dillon is absolutely stunning as the lead. He captures obsessive disorder combined with quirky serial killer in a way that feels like sitcom gone horribly wrong. If you’ve watched Monk by Andy Breckman, then just imagine Adrian Monk + a bucket of murder maniac + two cups of art enthusiast and you should have a close enough picture of Jack. Without his nonchalant, eccentric attitude and prioritization of issues, the movie wouldn’t work. His performance gives the movie a dark comedic feeling. He does awful things, but the way he processes and acts in regards to those actions is hilarious. There are moments where I was shocked at the violence, and then within a few minutes I was laughing again. It’s messed up.
The way that von Trier approaches violence is both horrifying and depressing. The movie constantly reiterates that violence is kind of constitutive of all human interaction. The universe is uncaring and no one out there will really help you. The way the movie hammers the point is unrelenting and I was left feeling fairly alone in a weird existential way after watching. This is not the movie you watch if you want to feel good about life.
However, the violence at some point threatens to become too distracting. I was never bored during the movie, but I did struggle to understand the point of each story in relation to the overarching narrative. There are some horrifying scenes, yes, but they felt like they did the same thing thematically. That’s kind of the point of the movie, but it came off as overindulgent to me. It’s funny because Verge, on a number of occasions, would voice the concerns I was having just as I was having them , making it feel as if I was having a dialogue with Jack and by extension von Trier. It doesn’t make me think the movie is less indulgent, but it makes me appreciate it more.
Report Card
TLDR
The House That Jack Built is as provocative piece about art, its limits, and the ever present violence in the world that seemingly never goes away. It’s excessive to the point of over-indulgence, but in a way that makes von Trier’s point nice and clear. Nihilistic and styled to a T – watch this movie if you can handle some real depravity that’s intended to offend. There’s a lot to think about underneath.
Rating
9.9/10
Grade
A+
Go to Page 2 to view this review’s progress report .
NOTE: The review contains minor spoilers for the movie. They’re nothing that would spoil your entertainment of the movie (unlike trailers which will mislead you). Everything I spoil is fairly obvious and necessary for me to give a more coherent review.
I love both Requiem for a Dream and Black Swan, the latter of which I found so entertaining that I wrote my first (and currently only, I promise I’m writing more) piece of analysis on it. So when I saw Aronofsky was directing another horror movie with Jennifer Lawrence as the lead, I was all in. Unfortunately, after my first viewing I was kind of let down, especially after I read the director’s interviews about the movie. I just felt like the experience chalked up to a whole lot of nothing. A year later, I came upon the movie again and just ended up watching it on a whim – maybe it was the Hunger Games binge I was on, but that’s a story for another day. Anyways, I watched it again, this time fully aware of the allegory and the authors intent, but this time I liked it a lot more. It was strange how much I ended up enjoying certain sequences. I could swear it was like I was watching a different movie. Aronofsky ‘s allegory is a lot more interesting and provocative than I first thought, even if it feels a bit myopic, but it requires a certain frame of mind.
The story of mother! follows her (mother) and Him, the latter being a famous poet trying to finish his a new work and the former being the keeper of the house, decorating and furnishing it. As mother goes around the house she sees a strange heartbeat in the house. Soon afterwards, a guest comes over and slowly all hell breaks loose and mother finds herself dealing with unwanted visitors. The movie is allegorical- that’s not a secret. There’s the story of Adam and Eve, Abel and Cain, the old vs New testament, the birth of Christ, and everything in between. The imagery is obvious and incredibly visceral, leaving a deep impact on the viewer. Him is God and the mother is Earth, so the movie is also an allegory of the relationship of Earth to religion and people. If this summary seems too pretentious or full of itself, then skip the movie. You probably won’t like it. The psychological horror in the movie is subtle and slowly evolving until it crescendos in the third act. If you don’t like “slow burners” you might also want to skip this one. For those of you left, you’re in for something gorgeous.
I love weird movies like this. I think my initial irritation with the movie came from the mis-marketing of it ( I thought it was going to be some kind of normal home invasion story) and a misunderstanding of the cool interactions between the different themes in the movie. Yes, there’s the obvious one that Aronofsky tells us, but if you take that together with other smaller moments you get a neat looking picture. The connection between religion, sin, forgiveness, and the environment is provocative. My only real issue is that it all feels a bit too nihilistic. If there was a bit more characterization during certain parts, then I think the movie could’ve done something truly masterful, but as it is, it paints a pretty pessimistic picture of the world with no way out.
This movie is definitely a horror movie. I’ve seen a lot of people saying the opposite, which I think is kind of ridiculous. There are harrowing sequences that are both grotesque and intended to disgust and shock the audience. The pacing and editing in the latter half of the movie create a real tension. Yes, you know where the movie is going to go but it does a hell of a job at ramping up the absurdity of its allegory at every turn. The movie is mainly shot from the perspective of her – either behind her or looking at her face. The audience is along for the ride, so as mother gets more tense and harrowed, so do we. It’s confusing, chaotic, and disturbing, and in its own way beautiful. You really feel for her. Sound design is the main reason this works so well. It’s minimalist, so the normal barrier erected between the audience and the screen feels gone. The sounds of the house are what come out distinctly. Put together, the experience puts you directly with the character in horrible situations. If you let yourself experience the movie, instead of just watching it, you may enjoy it a lot more. I think that’s why I liked the movie a lot more the 2nd time.
The main problem with the movie is it only works at the level of allegory. I wish it was more a home invasion movie or even a psychological horror in the more traditional sense with the allegory working on less “literal” level. The best movies can tie in a fully formed plot and tap on the allegory/metaphors as another layer – so the movie can be viewed in a traditional sense, and also in whatever subtext the director/viewer extracts. This movie only works as the latter which is why it may not work for a lot of people.
REPORT CARD
TLDR
mother! is a thought provoking allegory about God, the environment, humanity and the way their respective relationships intersect. If you like purely allegorical movies then this should be straight in your ballpark. I wish it was less nihilistic, but I’m nonetheless impressed with the creativity on display.
Rating
9.2/10
Grade
A
Go to Page 2 to view this review’s progress report .
Natalie Portman as Lena Oscar Isaac as Kane Jennifer Jason Leigh as Dr. Ventress
Release Date
2018
Language(s)
English
Running Time
115 minutes
If you haven’t already seen this movie, avoid the trailer because it spoils so much of the movie that I don’t understand why or how it was released.Now that I got that out of the way, Annihilation is one of the most ambitious science fiction movies I’ve seen in recent memory. The story follows a group of 5 scientists as they’re tasked with entering a zone enveloped by an alien aura known as “The Shimmer”.
This movie is a big discussion on creativity and its relation to the death drive. The Shimmer is filled with mutations that are either beautiful, horrifying, or some mixture of both. These creatures are not only meant to be horrifying, but are also used to provoke discussion on the nature of the alien substance. There are answers to its nature (the movie is fairly up-front about it), but the end of the movie is open enough to allow discourse on the meaning of it all. It’s a great movie to watch with friends and talk about afterwards because the movie does a great job of balancing giving direct answers and hinting at answers with multiple meanings. You could watch the movie straight up as a horror sci-fi movie with crazy sequences , but that would be a disservice to the layers going on. I’m not going to pretend to act like I got all of this on my first view. Honestly, the first time I saw this movie I really disliked a subplot focused on Lena, our protagonist. But on later viewings, I came to appreciate how it added to multiple themes in the movie. I still think it could’ve been done better, but I appreciate the reasoning behind it. Big Lovecraftian energy.
For those of you who are looking more for the sci-fi or the horror in the movie, don’t worry. The movie has them in spades. The movie might start off slow for some. There’s a lot of character work done (mainly exposition and introduction) here that pays off later, so I think it’s worth it, but I can see how it can feel grating. Thankfully, the movie soon transitions into “The Shimmer” and everything goes off the wheels. The visuals are jaw-dropping and watching the alien substance interact with everything is something you can’t stop looking at. Not to mention, the movie has one of the scariest creature moments in recent memory. It really stays with you. Once the 3rd act is underway, everything gets amped up another notch. The story and its themes come together in an audio-visual experience that’s wholly unique. In fact, the climax of this movie is a moment that’s stuck with me from the moment I watched it. It feels like a vision fully realized from the visual effects, to the art design, to the way that dialogue gives way to otherworldly tunes.
Every scientist feels developed and the audience gets a good insight into each of their personalities (even if some of that is done via the characters analyzing each other)They’re all good enough for the story and I could remember bits and pieces of them after I had first seen the movie. The cool thing about them is how the movie uses them all as foils to Lena which not only makes her decisions more interesting, but also nicely develops the themes.
The only issues with the film are some strange narrative choices. There’s a really odd framing device that’s used to explain a lot of the narrative. It feels almost like someone didn’t trust the audience to put the pieces together (which is false), so a lot of the movie comes to a painful standstill so that Lena can explain what we just saw to a room of people. It makes the movie feel bloated and I really wish it wasn’t there at all. The ending also feels odd – like it was tacked on to please audiences (which based on what I’ve read about production seems true). I don’t dislike it now, but I remember really thinking it was wonky on my first viewing.
REPORT CARD
TLDR
Annihilation is a thought provoking look into humanity’s destructive and creativive capacities. The eye popping visuals are there to augment, not distract, from the cerebral sci -fi mystery. There are some story issues that make pacing a bit wonky, and the story takes a bit to start up, but once it does you’re in for something that can’t really be explained.
Rating
9.6/10
Grade
A+
Go to Page 2 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.
Waves churn in the sea.The waves slowly dissolve and become….… a screen of pixels…which end up “becoming” a baseball game. From left to right: Masami(Hitomi Sato) and Tomoko (Yûko Takeuchi) have the baseball game playing in the background. Masami(Hitomi Sato) tells Tomoko (Yûko Takeuchi) about the cursed videotape. The clock ticks ominously. The happy mood between Masami(Hitomi Sato) and Tomoko (Yûko Takeuchi) dissipates as the truth comes out. Masami(Hitomi Sato) and Tomoko (Yûko Takeuchi) answer the phone downstairs and are relieved upon hearing Tomoko’s parents. The television turns on behind Tomoko ( Yûko Takeuchi) as if by its own volition. Tomoko ( Yûko Takeuchi) stares at the screen in fear. Tomoko’s ( Yûko Takeuchi) face freezes as the negative image takes hold of the frame. The domain of technology is shown to be home to forces beyond human comprehension as the sea’s waters become the pixels which comprise the television’s image, looming ominously in the background while Tomoko and Masami talk gleefully to one another. Far from being alone, the girl’s are seen by a force of nature, an emissary of the sea. When Masami mentions the tale of the cursed VHS tape, it’s as this presence is named. Somehow, there’s a connection. Tomoko mentions she’s watched the tape and the sound of a phone call confirms that something is wrong. Far from being a rumor, the threat of a specter becomes a genuine possibility. When Masami leaves Tomoko under the assumption that everything is fine, the threat manifests as real, taking Tomoko by surprise and snapping a photograph of her, a negative image in contrast to the film’s positive image.
Ambient rumbles and the sounds of the churning waves mix as the camera pans over a tumultuous sea. The uncanny waters become grainy before dissolving into the static dots of a television set; thus, nature and technology merge in unholy unison. A pathway is formed. Static transforms the sea into a baseball game.
It’s revealed that two young girls, Tomoko (Yuko Takeuchi) and Masami (Hitomi Sato), have the game on in the background, as a source of background noise to a conversation they’re having. The latter mentions an urban rumor regarding a cursed VHS tape which supposedly kills its viewer after exactly 7 days. Apparently, after watching the tape, the viewer receives a phone call confirming their doom and then they succumb a week later as consequence. Tomoko displays an unease and asks where Masami heard about the rumor before revealing that she’s seen the aforementioned tape. Suddenly, the clock on the wall becomes a menacing presence, a death knell counting down towards Tomoko’s inevitable end. Terror takes its hold and the jovial mood in the room dissipates as demise makes itself known. It’s at this point Tomoko breaks the tension by claiming she’s joking and the girls laugh once again.
However, this moment of relief is ripped out from under them. The ominous ringing of a phone pierces the soundscape and casts a spell of doom, silencing the girls’ laughter. Both girls go downstairs towards the phone which beckons them forward. Masami picks it up and expresses relief upon hearing Tomoko’s parents on the other side. She hands the phone to her friend and goes upstairs, assured that the crisis is averted.
Unfortunately, this reprieve is also revealed to be temporary; despite being clearly off before, the television set near the phone turns on. The baseball game from earlier which marked a peaceful change from the sea now casts an ominous electric blue light. The relationship between sea and television has now been reversed: the television itself imposes presence of the blue, tumultuous waves come alive in the form of a similar colored light.
Tomoko attempts to turn the television off, but the technological apparatus initially refuses her commands. Finally, she succeeds in her endeavor and turns around assured that the issue over. But as she gets a drink ready, she hears a presence making scratching noises behind her. She turns her head to confront the presence and her face breaks into absolute terror. The frame freezes and the colors invert; a negative image takes the place of a positive image as if the unseen presence has taken a picture of Tomoko’s reaction to its abject aura – a snapshot taken from and by the void.
Thus, the film allows for a film to be born from within its structure – the start of a series of negative images that serve as an undercurrent to the positive appearance which will dominate the majority of the film. Far from being just a diegetic element, the spectral nature of the rumored VHS tape permeates into the non-diegetic layer and suggests that Ring itself shares the same uncanny characteristics as the cursed video that serves as the heart of its narrative proper.
A young girl is intervied by Reiko, captured in a positive image by the camera. Reiko(Nanako Matsushima) asks about the cursed video tape. The group of schoolgirls talk about the urban rumor regarding the VHS tape. In contrast to the negative image image of Tomoko, a positive image of a young girl fills the frame. This time the camera is controlled by a human force, Reiko, who is reporting on the urban tale of the cursed VHS tape. Though the news segment she’s filming appears to be some small news, the introduction alerts us that this otherwise innocuous sounding gossip is anything but.
This dichotomy between film and the reality it frames and captures is doubled down in the next scene which follows our protagonist Reiko (Nanako Matsushima), a news reporter, as she interviews young schoolgirls about the rumors swirling around the cursed tape. In contrast to Tomoko’s spectral encounter whereby reality gave way to negative photographic capture, Reiko’s news report transforms reality into positive photographic capture. In her case, she films to get footage for a news report which calls to question what the negative image and the cursed VHS tape are being/have been produced for. A matrix is made present through the juxtapositions of images caught between the planes of the living and the otherworld.
Yōichi(Rikiya Ōtaka) sits facing the television, waiting for Reiko to come back home. Yōichi(Rikiya Ōtaka) helps zip up Reiko’s (Nanako Matsushima) dress in preparation for his cousin’s funeral. His questions about why his cousin died are answered in unsatisfying fashion. Reiko leaves Yōichi with his grandfather. Yōichi’s cousin is revealed to be Tomoko ( Yûko Takeuchi), the young woman who saw the tape at the start of the film. Yōichi(Rikiya Ōtaka) sees what appears to be Tomoko running up the stairs. The lighting switches from dark to light momentarily as a young girl, presumably Tomoko, runs up the stairs. Yōichi(Rikiya Ōtaka) walks up the stairs which are dark once again. Yōichi is led to Tomoko’s room, the place where the sea became the television. Reiko (Nanako Matsushima) finds Yōichi(Rikiya Ōtaka) in the room and takes him out before anything can transpire. Televisions litter the mise-en-scène, becoming gradually more unsettling as the film continues. When we see Yōichi sitting innocuously by one while waiting for his mother, Reiko, the unit seems benign. However, it ultimately becomes an malevolent force as Yōichi comes face to face with the television which first marked the encounter with the sea qua uncanny. Furthermore, he is led to this encounter by none other than the victim of the tape’s curse, his cousin, Tomoko. The re-appearance of the young woman suggests that the business with the tape is far from being over.
Reiko returns to her abode post interview and is greeted by her son,Yōichi (Rikiya Ōtaka), who helps her get ready for a funeral. While zipping up her dress, Yōichi asks Reiko why his cousin, Tomo-chan, died and if kids die in general – serious issues to deal with, especially when asked by a child. His mother answers both questions matter-of-factly, that is to say in an unsatisfying matter, and brushes off the gravity of his existential distress, telling him instead to keep such thoughts quieter around her sister, Tomo-chan’s mother, as to not distress her. Angst about death is pushed underground in favor of keeping an appearance of peace.
The mother-son pair arrive at Reiko’s sister’s place where Reiko’s father (Katsumi Muramatsu) takes Yōichi aside to give Reiko time to help with the funeral arrangements. It’s at this point Reiko’s journey and the film’s opening intertwine as it’s revealed that Tomo-chan is none other than Tomoko, the first on-screen victim of the cursed VHS tape. Yōichi stares at her picture on the wall longingly. It’s clear that her absence is troubling him.
While he stands at the foot of darkly lit stairs, he suddenly sees a young girl’s feet running up them, the darkness momentarily replaced by light. If Tomoko’s absence brings darkness to his life, then this change in lighting suggests he feels her presence. Is this a psychic vision, manifestation of his loss, or a mixture of both? No answer is given.
Yōichi follows this potential “Tomoko” up the stairs before coming face to face with the television in her bedroom, her apparition now missing. Paranoia builds as the horrors of the opening rear their head more viciously here – a TV, the presence of something supernatural, and someone left all alone. Thankfully, Reiko, who had been looking for Yōichi , finds him alone in the room and whisks him out promptly; the confrontation with the abyss is averted momentarily.
Outside of the house, hosts of schoolgirls stand looking both solemn and uncomfortable. Reiko notices them as she’s getting ready to leave and goes to question them. She naturally gets the girls to open up and explain their concerns without fear of judgement. Like the schoolgirls she interviewed earlier, these girls mention a cursed video tape and confirm that Tomoko and friends of her not only saw the tape while on a trip to Izu but died on the same day in similarly incomprehensible circumstances. Once again, the tape comes up as the source of everything. Now caught at the intersection between her investigative pursuits and family tragedy, Reiko’s dance with the abyss has come. The tape and her are on a collision course with one another.
Footage of two of the victims, who were both discovered dead in a car with no sign of foul play. Reiko (Nanako Matsushima) and her co-worker analyze the footage. The victim’s face is frozen in abject terror. As Reiko analyzes footage of other apparent curse victims, the viewer is drawn into the process of analyzing the minute details of the film. The faces of the victims look frozen as if caught at their most scared.
Drawn by the enigma presented by the situation, Reiko goes to work and begins investigating the deaths of Tomoko’s friends, analyzing the footage documenting the discovery of two of their deaths. One of their faces, that of a young girl, is frozen in abject terror as if scared beyond comprehensible limits. The moment is demarcated and framed, captured in a moment to be investigated, replayed, and reinterpreted. Photography captures the present and transforms into a discretized unit of time, capable of being reactivated with new perspectives.
An gust with no apparent source helps Reiko notice a note. Reiko’s (Nanako Matsushima) sister (Kiriko Shimizu) comes into the room unnoticed and struggles to describe how Tomoko died. Tomoko’s (Yûko Takeuichi) body lays crumpled in her closet. Tomoko’s ( Yûko Takeuichi) face is contorted into absolute terror like her classmates who died. Tomoko’s face matches the face of the other victims of the tape calling to question what exactly could be so terrifying that people would die with an expression of utter terror on their face. Reiko is headed on the course to find out as the force responsible for these deaths seems to edge her towards finding it, pointing out Tomoko’s note in an effort to lure the reporter.
While the mechanics of how the students died remains a mystery to Reiko, the confirmation that the entire group died around the same time as Tomoko drives her towards investigating her family connection more stringently. She goes to her sister’s house and investigates Tomoko’s room. Initially unable to notice anything, she discovers a folded piece of paper as it’s brought to her attention by an unseen presence, a small wind with seemingly no in-room source which moves the note. Written inside is a date along with the name of a photo processing store. It seems that Tomoko’s’ vacation pictures from Izu have yet to be picked up – a new clue for Reiko to follow.
Just as Reiko turns to leave the room, her sister shows up from behind, expressing a demonstrable trauma in the shattered look on her face. The latter looks at Tomoko’s closet and finds herself unable to describe the manner in which she found her daughter’s corpse. Instead, the film shows us this horrific discovery flashback. The closet door opens and Tomoko’s body is shown crumpled in a corner, her face frozen in the same terrifying manner as her similarly deceased friend. Both girls look scared to death, their faces trapped in absolute horror.
The photos of Tomoko and her friends appear normal. Reiko (Nanako Matsushima) looks at the photographs and seems relieved. By a certain date, the images become distorted. The students’ faces are now warped and indiscernible. The plot thickens as the photographs of Tomoko and her friends look markedly different before and after a certain date. Their faces go from joyous and jovial to distorted and indiscernible, as though something is effacing the camera’s ability to directly capture their images. It’s like an unseen filter clouds the camera’s eyes – another spectral technological event.
Later at the photography store, Reiko discovers that the photographs of Tomoko and her friends have a marked difference before and after a date in time. While their early photos in Izu are marked with smiling faces and cheery dispositions, the latter photos are marked by distortion and disturbances. Once again, technology has been rendered uncanny from a previously domestic state; an unseen force returns and inhabits the technology which formerly worked as tool for the living and turns it into a tool for the spectral. Happy faces become distorted, but we know they’ll end up breaking into a blood-chilling terror that will remain forevermore etched onto the faces of the victims. But the cause of this metaphysical transformation is still to be discovered and Reiko is determined to get to the bottom of it.
Reiko (Nanako Matsushima) sends Yōichi to school, choosing, once again, to not answer his questions. Instead, she chooses to go to Izu to investigate the cursed tape. A visual marker with the time and date along with a strange aural cue come up on the screen as she makes this choice, marking the occasion. Reiko (Nanako Matsushima) is unable to find anything in the cabin the students rented sans a notebook that guests can write in. As she flips the pages, she comes upon a drawing of a child and their parents with a statement indicating that a child’s traits are a result of their parents’ traits. Reiko scans the tapes that customers can borrow. An umarked VHS tape takes control of the frame, giving it a grainy filter similar to the pixels of a television screen. Like the gust of wind from earlier, a presence is calling Reiko. Reiko (Nanako Matsushima) puts the television on. Reiko (Nanako Matsushima) prepares herself for the tape to start. Reiko’s confrontation with the tape is marked by increasing intrusions, first in the form of a textual and auditory marker signifying the date and then by the cursed tape itself which applies a grainy filter to the image. Far from just being an object in the plot, the tape seems to exude control over non-diegetic elements and choices in the story.
The next day comes and Reiko prepares to trek to Izu in order to find more pertinent information. While she cooks food for Yōichi to warm up and eat later at night during her absence, he comes up to her and informs her that Tomoko watched the curse tape. Obviously upset that her son has knowledge of such matters, she asks him where he learned about such a fact before then beseeching him to not mention the issue at school. Once again, Reiko skirts the uncomfortable topic broached by her son in favor of idyllic appearances that taper over the abyss.
It’s at this point that the date and day of the week- Monday, September 13th – comes onto the screen accompanied by a disconcerting, yet melancholic set of sounds. Like the spectral snapshot taken of Tomoko, this non-diegetic feature becomes open to diegetic possibilities. If a specter took a “photo” of Tomoko, who’s to say it’s not documenting Reiko until she meets a similar fate? Viewed in this way, the text marks the starting date of Reiko’s confrontation with constitutive void hiding at the heart of the tape. This audio-visual interruption dissipates and Reiko departs towards the inn Tomoko and the other students stayed in.
Inside the inn, her attempts at investigation come up nil. There appears to be no hints or clues towards foul play of any sorts. Opposed to any clues, Reiko only manages to find a notebook filled with quotes and drawings from previous guests. A sketch by a child catches her attention. It depicts a obese mother, father, and child figure. Written near the drawing is the child’s declaration that they are fat because their mother and father are fat. Thus, the qualities of the child inhere from the qualities of the parent; if something is found in the former, it is due to something from the latter. Seemingly benign, this observation will come to play a pivotal role in deciphering the assemblage of terrors lying in wait.
At a surface level, films are the children of creator-parents that give birth to them and disseminate them into the world. Choices like framing, editing, sound design, camera movements, and the like are decisions that play a decisive role in determining the genetic make-up of a film and what it “grows” up to be. Given this, Reiko’s upcoming confrontation with the VHS tape will bring to question the nature of its “parent” and the tape qua child’s place in the world.
While questioning the front desk about Tomoko and her friends, Reiko notices an unmarked VHS tape in the rental stack of tapes available for those staying in the inns. The tape calls out to Reiko, directly transforming the film. Its presence forces a close-up and the camera’s filter becomes grainy and textured as if unable to fully contain the presence manifesting in the moment. The pull is enough and Reiko rents it. She takes it back to her cabin. The time has come. Reiko puts the tape in and lets it play.
A view of the clouds from a well. A woman(Masako) brushes her hair in the mirror. A girl(Rie Inō) with hair covering her face The woman(Masako) looks over at the girl. The word “Eruption” erupts through the frame, manifesting in a variety of shapes and sizes. Men crawl and rumble in disorienting fashion. A man with a towel over his head points towards our left. “Sada” appears in an eye which stares at the screen. A well appears. The contents of the cursed video tape prove to offer very little immediate meaning. The montage seems to lack any throughline, but the grainy, ambiguous presentation of each scenario creates a palpable unease.
The tape and the film become one as the viewer and Reiko view the cursed footage from the same proximity, that of minimal distance. A view from a well cuts to a mirror’s reflection of a woman brushing hair. Another mirrored reflection, this time from framed on the right of the screen instead of the left, comes in momentarily, depicting a young woman with hair covering her face. The initial woman’s reflection stares at the other woman before text ruptures the screen. The word “eruption” appears all over. Blurred people crawl along a hillock while the ambient whispers present in the soundscape erupt into what sounds like guttural chanting emanating from an abyss. A man with a towel on his head points towards the left of the frame as sharp noises jolts the auditory precession before an eerie silence takes hold. A blinking eye gazes at the viewer. Letters seemingly appear in the pupil. Finally, a well appears on the screen and the camera lingers as if waiting for a presence. But nothing comes.
Reiko(Nanako Matsushima) notices a specter’s(Rie Inō) reflection on the television. Reiko(Nanako Matsushima) picks up the phone and hears nothing. The clock ticks, announcing her future time of death. The television sits even as Reiko leaves, marking the site of her confrontation with the world beyond. Its presence as a conduit between the worlds is confirmed one and for all. Reiko’s confrontation with the tape, marked by both a visit by a specter along with the dreaded call at the end of it all, confirms that the curse of the tape is real. Far from a tool of humanity, the television set has rendered a site for the immemorial to take hold again, as forces from beyond make their presence felt on the world of the living. The television set sits as though representative of an sinister agency that far exceeds its boxy frame.
Suddenly, the film cuts back from the tape to Reiko watching it, granting the viewer a distance, a mercy it does not extend to Reiko who spots in her reflection against the television screen a specter staring back her. A haunted tape featuring reflections played on a television which becomes a mirror depicting the tapes viewer and creator. The TV set becomes the site where the immemorial clashes with the contemporary – technology serves as a conduit for both the human and non-human and allows the planes to interact with one another.
Right on cue, the phone rings and the doom sets in. Reiko gets no answer on the call, but she as well as the viewer know that her date has been set. Seven days exactly till she meets the same end as her deceased niece. Now the battle has come to head and the textual interlude marking the date – Monday the 13th – and the clock marking the time – a little past 7:05 P.M.- becomes a time of death cast exactly 7 days in the future. Understandably frightened by the encounter, Reiko runs out of the room, but the camera lingers and stays focused on the television, reminding the viewer of who’s currently winning the battle. With the clock ticking against her in the most literal of senses, Reiko is forced to trek back home and call upon the help of her estranged ex-husband, Ryūji (Hiroyuki Sanada), to get to the bottom of the mystery before her untimely demise.
Given its set-up, it’s no wonder that director Hideo Nakata’s Ring legacy has endured since its inception; the film injects the terror of horror as genre into the structure of the film itself, creating a loop wherein the diegetic and non-diegetic elements intertwine with one another, informing each other. At one level the viewer is watching a film about characters watching a film (of sorts) which the viewer also gets to watch. The viewer is then made to analyze the structural choices of this film within the film, as Reiko and Ryūji do minute analyses behind the creator’s choices to figure out how to unravel. Simultaneously, the structure of Ring proper- it’s editing choices, freeze frames, textual interludes describing the day, and the like – gives the film a feeling of returning on itself. It’s as if a film is being made from within the film about a film – a circuit whereby the spectral and the technological intertwine with one another in a constantly shifting dance of meaning. The same questions and methods of analyses used on the cursed footage leaks over to the film proper, begging the question of where the VHS tape ends and where the film begins.
Ring constantly seeks to probe this sense of discomfort via its demonstration of how same channels humans use to communicate with one another can give to an unhuman force. Phones which help connect family members across geographical boundaries now connect the spectral and corporeal, rendering the boundaries between the human and nonhuman bare. Televisions which provide entertainment and a respite from the drudgery of the day became channels by which the other world can reach out and curse the living. Technology becomes a marker of the trace between humanity and its attempt at demarcating itself against. No one is safe…not even the viewer who is subject to the same “cursed” footage that victims and Reiko have seen. It becomes clear that if such a phenomenon were to occur in our world, we’d be just as doomed, just as trapped as Reiko. We watched the tape too. Thus, spectral intrusion is demonstrated to be as insidious as it is terrifying. It can’t be taken seriously until it’s too late.
Not since Michael Powell’s Peeping Tom, a film about a serial killer who kills women and photographs their contorted dying expressions, has a film so brilliantly captured the perversity inherent in photography and the way it captures the subject within its frame. Despite utilizing a different sub-genre as vantage point, supernatural and cosmic over slasher, Ring manages to traverse into the same uncanny territories Peeping Tom does in revealing the terrors inherent within humanity. The films’ shared focus on capturing dying expressions is a result of their investigative focuses: the liminal point at which humanity renders unto itself unhumanity.
This is why Ring is and will always continue to remain eerie, if not outright terrifying, long after the age of VHS tapes. It preys on the terrors lying at the heart of the horror genre – the peripheries and vestiges of that uncanny which we feel in our mythos and the world around us but can’t even pinpoint. It takes the act of viewing horror media itself as the basis of its investigation, forcing the viewer into an intimate encounter with the subject matter. Nakata’s film is demonstration that fear is a result not of loid noises or shocking violence but of making the viewer investigate the difference between reality and the abyss that seems to follow it.
REPORT CARD
TLDR
While Ring‘s legacy is more so remembered today for its impact in making J-Horror a global phenomenon both in terms of exports and westernized remakes, it goes without saying that the film itself a bona fide horror classic of the highest caliber. Hideo Nakata’s disturbing investigation into the ways technology renders the world from beyond to investigate with the world we inhabit is not only eerie in the way it renders some of our most used tools (televisions, phones) conduits for the supernatural but also reaffirms the power of the horror film and its ability to force encounters with the uncanny. By focusing the film on the power of horror film itself and taking those ideas to the extreme, Nakata is able to deeply unsettle and render even the medium the movie is playing on disturbing. It’s no wonder then that so many people find it hard to watch their television after watching this film. It’s hard to take the screen as trustworthy ever again.
Rating
10/10
Grade
S+
Go to Page 2for the spoiler discussion and more in-depth analysis. Go to Page 3 to view this review’s progress report .
I’ve been excited for The Lighthouse since it’s release at the Cannes Film Festival in 2019. Robert Egger’s previous 2015 work, The Witch, is one of my favorite horror movies of the past decade so describing my state of mind as excited might actually be putting it a tad lightly. After watching the movie, I’m happy to say the movie not only delivered, but exceeded expectations. Bravo.
The plot follows Epharim Winslow (Robert Pattinson) , a young man who’s sent out to join and work under Thomas Wake (Willem Dafoe) as a wickie. From the start of the movie we can see friction between our two main leads. Pattinson is reserved and wants to keep to himself. Dafoe on the other hand is a authoritative, talkative, alcoholic who constantly seeks to get Pattinson to open up and join along. The rest of the plot is just the ensuing dialogue and the results of staying on an isolated island. Despite this, there was not a single moment I was bored or uninterested with what was going on. Every interaction, every visual, every little outburst kept my attention glued to the screen.
The movie constantly plays with your emotions . One moment might be ripe with violence and cause you to feel tense about what’s going to happen. Immediately, a humorous scene will follow creating a perverse laughter. There’s no way to predict what’s going to happen next which makes every moment feel like an experimental must watch. This is fueled by both the respective leads phenomenal acting. Pattinson goes through a wide range of emotion and watching his development from an aloft and quite wickie, to a man losing his sense of self and sanity is a treat. Dafoe is a perfect compliment to Pattinson and conveys a mythical authoritative figure while simultaneously taking pleasure in farting/fart jokes. Yes you read that right- the film even has fart jokes. I’ll take “Setups I’d never see in a horror movie” for 500, Alex. Once certain twists and reveals are set up, the film becomes even more nuanced and allows for different and nuanced takes from the audience. You could watch this with a group of friends and everyone could take something different from the plot.
Aesthetically the movie shoots everything out of the ballpark. Camera movement is fluid and never draws outward attention. Instead, it almost feels like it operates seamlessly in the background. Pan and tilt shots move geographically through the lighthouse, but based on twists in the movie might indicate something else entirely. The black and white nature of the movie makes the extreme shadows and radiance of the actual lighthouse that much more bright. It helps amplify the difference between them but also makes the film feel like it was filmed in the late 1890’s early 1900’s. Mark Korven’s score is also precise- it’s grandiose and loud when it needs to be, but it also plays a subtle calming role in other scenes. It only ever accentuates and never feels out of place.
Rating
TLDR:The Lighthouse is a beautiful, wholly original piece that’ll have you asking what’s real and what’s going on for a lot of it’s run time. It has fun with itself and it’s ambiguous and mystical nature lends it to multiple interpretations post viewing.
Final Rating: 10/10. This is the best movie I’ve seen so far in 2019. Eggers beautifully merges horror, comedy, and psychological introspection and delivers it in an aesthetically rich package. If you want to see one of the years best, or enjoy psychological movies that play with reality/religious mythos this movie is right up your alley.
There’s no spoiler section- I’ll be posting a more full analysis and a discussion of the movie with friends at later times.
In this analysis I’ll be taking a look at Nina’s (Natalie Portman) journey through Black Swan. I’ll be analyzing why the swan is so important and the philosophical underpinnings that make Portman’s transformation so haunting. NOTE- this is a spoiler zone. I will be talking about plot deals intricately so if you haven’t watched the movie yet, but plan on it, don’t read past this.
The Swan
The film starts off with a shot of a girl doing ballet. We focus on just her feet, noticing her precise and technical execution. The background is dark- there’s almost a supernatural aspect to the dance happening. The camera encircles Nina and her partner- then as quickly as the dance begins,it ends. It was only a dream.
This first scene establishes the story of Swan Lake as the backdrop by which the film operates. Nina is the white swan, pure and innocent and what follows will be her tumultuous journey towards becoming the black swan. But the scene has a dual function- on top of establishing the perceptual metaphor of the movie- it highlights the significance of the play in Nina’s life. The role of Swan Queen is quite literally something she idolizes. Why? Because ballet is quite literally the only thing Nina has going for her.
The Repressed Subject
Art is a form of escape for Nina. As a subject she has been restricted in almost every avenue- forced into a scenario that necessitates action and urgency. She’s 28. At this age it’s make or break and can determine how far her career can really go.
The narrative set up establishes just how repressed every other aspect of her life is. Despite being an grown adult, she still lives with her mom. That by itself isn’t the problem – it’s that she and her mom have a relationship akin to one a mom has with an child about to go through puberty. It feels unnatural and highlights the way she’s been conditioned and brought up.
Erica is abusive. You can debate on whether or not her overprotective tendencies are partially justified, but she does more than enough to suggest that she’s been emotionally and psychologically damaging her daughter. She constantly insinuates that Nina’s sexuality must be protected. Sexual pleasure and questioning has been prohibited- cast aside by the parental Other that determines the boundaries the child is and is not allowed to cross. Every-time Nina has a sexual experience it turns into something horrifying. Symbolically, the loss of this sexual innocence marks a passage into an adult- so by restricting it- Erica can ensure her daughter stays attached to her at all times.
This is evidenced at multiple times:
1. Nina’s room doesn’t have a lock – which is why she’s had to come up with a make shift solution to keep her mom’s prying eyes out. This is also why she’s so sexually withdrawn. She never had a sense of privacy long enough to engage in that sexual discovery that happens in adolescence.
2. Whenever Nina goes out with Thomas, her mom insinuates that he’s touching her or abusing her. While the accusations become more and more accurate over time, her tone doesn’t feel like it comes from a place of love as much as possession. It feels like Nina’s sexuality is a possession that only she is allowed to control.
3. She literally slaps her daughter for saying that she had sex. Instead of trying to comfort her daughter or ensure that she was okay post experience, her first response is one of anger and indignation.
On top of this, we see through the mother-daughter interactions that Nina’s not allowed to disagree. When she makes Swan Queen, Erica buys her a cake to celebrate. Nina doesn’t want to eat it because she feels nervous- that’s understandable. But instead of responding like a normal parent should, Erica lashes out – threatening to throw the entire cake. It’s passive aggressive behavior meant to guilt and shame Nina.
Regardless of Erica’s motivation, the result is an alienated child- Nina never got a chance to grow up and has been reduced to ballet. But ballet also becomes an escape. She stays later and later at the practice hall, because it’s better than coming home to the rules and dictates that make it impossible for her to find herself. Ballet here is a line of flight- a break through the madness and shackles imposed upon her by her mother. By becoming a star she can leave- maybe her career can flourish and she can financially escape. Or maybe in the act of becoming a true star, she can feel a sense of self- one strong enough to resolve the anxiety and loathing she’s internalized and experienced. Whatever it is – it’s freedom. It’s the only thing she can control anymore.
Duality
But to get to this freedom- Nina has to master the duality inherent to the role of Swan Queen- a journey that requires a mastery of herself. As evidenced by her early characterization and mannerisms- we know why she’s so effective as the white swan. Her childlike innocence combined with her pressures causes her to remain innocent but fragile. However, the black swan is the diametric opposite to these attributes.
The black swan is seductive, alluring, and chaotic. As Thomas repeats, portraying it requires an dancer to lose themselves in their routine. He notes that the issue with Nina’s performance is not in its technical execution. Her technique is flawless. Rather, what’s missing is an emotional intensity. A pure burst of affect moving across the scene. Technicality demonstrates a mechanic kind of mastery, but in order for art to cause a kind of catharsis in the audience, it has to have an emotional resonance to it that can’t be described or explained- only felt. This is why Nina struggles- because she’s been stunted of experiences and interaction- she can’t tap into those feelings. How does one understand seduction without understanding love and loss of love?
Shadow Nina is her mind’s response to this lack of information. The doppelganger serves as the inner projection of what Nina thinks the black swan is. It’s her minds attempt at creating a persona of what she needs to master and embrace. But because it’s so different from her, she runs from it and is scared of its presence. However, she eventually “overcomes” this fear.
Instead of trying to control and be timid towards the situations stunting her she lets the intensity of her emotions to serve as the catalysts to her action. These manifest in her actions and her delusions. From an early scene in act one, we see a shadow Nina come about. This serves as the inner projection of what Nina thinks the black swan is.
When Erica starts to yell at her when Lily comes over, Nina stops trying to argue with her mom. Instead of cowering away from her and giving in she acts like a teenager and acts rebellious. In this moment of symbolic growth she gives in to her frustration and angst and decides to experiment and try new things. Since Lily’s introduction into the ballet troupe, Nina has come to view her as a stand-in for the black swan. Unlike her, Nina is free-flowing and flexible. Her personality matches the aesthetic of her dance. She’s flirty, seductive, and playful.
When Nina comes home and gets slapped- instead of cowering from her sexuality, she uses her rage to have “sex” with Lily. The scene might be steamy, but where it really shines is in its symbolic meaning. We know Lily isn’t real in this scene- she seems to be the same shadow delusion Nina has seen the whole film. She transforms from Lily to Nina back to Lily and then Nina again at the end. The point isn’t just to highlight how tenuous Nina’s relationship with reality is. Rather it shows how she’s forming her “black swan” self. Lily is a template for everything the black swan represents. Having sex with her is opening her up to the influence, The constant transformations reflect her absorbing the perceived characteristics .
This is also why Nina sees Lily having sex with Thomas during the night of the performance. It’s most likely a delusion- but needs to happen. If Lily was the white swan, and Thomas was her beau, then the story dictates that he’s “stolen” by the black swan, Lily. Nina’s projection is necessary to cement her place and to drive her transformation fully forward. Now that the white swan has seen her partners infidelity, she must die. Nina must allow herself to die, so that “black” Nina can be born.
Becoming-Swan
At the end of the second act, Nina walks into her dressing room and sees a delusion of Lily getting ready to take her place. In a jealous fit of rage, Nina kills Lily and then drags her body elsewhere. What really dies in this scene is the barrier between the white and black halves of Nina.
In killing Lily, Nina has rid herself of the black swan proxy. She no longer needs Lily there to learn from because she’s finally assimilated the perspective and feelings of the black swan. Even the weapon of choice here is a shard of the destroyed mirror- the mirror between the dual sides of Nina. She literally uses the shattered symbol of her multiple selves, to destroy and absorb the sensual and chaotic side of herself.
Her makeup becomes more realistic- her feathers feel like they literally are growing off of her. In this moment, Lily isn’t the held back and repressed child, incapable of taking her own actions. She has become the literal embodiment of the swans. Careful and meticulous but filled with a frenetic energy. Both white and black – by removing the barriers between the sides of her identity- she has become pure artistic experience. It’s why the violence and pain she goes through at the end don’t affect her. It’s why her eyes are in a daze as Thomas stares at her in awe.
For a few moments, she had transcended all limits, and gave way to a beautiful, but fleeting performance.
Let go. Maintain control. The two impulses seem diametrically opposed to one another. Letting go implies a sense of giving in to drive and impulse, but maintaining control is always portrayed as a denial of the same. Perfection is the balance between two and Darren Aronofsky’s psychological-thriller, Black Swan, follows Nina (Natalie Portman) as she attempts to find that balance in her upcoming ballet performance in Swan Lake.
The first shot of the movie is phenomenal and sets up both the surreal and phantasmic nature of movie , but also places Nina’s life squarely in the context of Swan Lake. She is the white swan- placed in the position of the pure and innocent. Incredibly fragile. It’s the first thing we see her thinking about- her ability to perform in the piece is something that is constitutive of her and her sense of being.
Portman’s performance is haunting and shows the strain and anguish that comes from the pressure to achieve perfection. She feels like a child- diverting her eyes away during conversation, whispering to herself, and crying in fear. Watching her brutal and tense transformation feels that much harder because of how well the anguish is shot and portrayed. Every injury and bruise feels visceral and hard to keep looking at. I could not stop clenching my wrists during certain tense scenes.
Mirrors are utilized with precision. They’ve always been symbolically associated with ourselves. A way of ascertaining our identity- looking into our true selves. Every scene with a mirror in this movie feels like it has a purpose- not just in a superficial “identity is multifaceted” kind of way – but as thought they represent a deep inner conflict between multiple inner selves. They also represent duality which reinforces the divide and conflict between the black and white “swans” Portman must embody.
The movie never spends too much establishing detail- there’s always a suspicion that certain things are afoot- characters are more perverse than they let on. Not focusing on the details does help create the fleeting artistic feeling which accentuates the transformative nature of the movie . Personally I liked how certain things were more open ended, but if you like everything clear cut and laid out for you- this may not be your cup of tea.
However, this does cause a weird sense of lack to develop. Certain subplots are brought up to help accentuate themes, but they don’t get resolved which makes them feel like plot devices as opposed to natural interactions. These inconsistencies also stick out more given the lengths the early portions of the movie take to make the environment “dark”.
Rating
TLDR:Black Swan is a beautiful tale of the price of perfection that will have you questioning what you’re really seeing. There are some slight narrative “forces”, but they don’t detract at all from Portman’s haunting and disturbing performance.
Final Rating: 9.4/10. If you enjoy deep character takes or movies that play with reality vs fantasy this movie should be right up your alley. I felt tense the entire film and was left speechless at the ending.
In lieu of the usual spoiler page, click here, to read my spoiler intensive analysis of the movie.
Joaquin Phoenix as Arthur Fleck/Joker Frances Conroy as Penny Fleck Robert De Niro as Murray Zazie Beetz as Sophie
Release Date
2019
Language(s)
English
Running Time
122 minutes
Todd Phillips’s “comic book” film, Joker , feels less like a comic and more like a serious study of a man’s slow descent into a nihilistic force of violence. The film follows Arthur Fleck, played by Joaquin Phoenix, a man neglected and relegated by society until he finally snaps and embraces his persona as “Joker”.
Phoenix is the star of the show and is magnificent in his portrayal of a relegated pariah who slowly loses all hope. What makes the performance so haunting is the genuine sense of how real it feels. Arthur is constantly hopeful, someone trying to pull themselves up by their bootstraps- trying to live the “American Dream.” Joaquin evokes a man, desperately trying to live out some dreams- to get back up in spite of everything. This was necessary, because without it the transformation from Arthur to the Joker would be more villainous and less sympathetic.
Furthermore, the laugh he emits due to his “illness” is genuinely haunting. It has a choking sound to it and completely reveals Fleck’s emotional state. Phoenix constantly manipulates and utilizes the laugh with different “intonations” to highlight the undercurrent of the characters state of mind. This helped chronicle Fleck’s progression from down-trodden dreamer to nihilist psychopath.
The humor in the movie is perverse. It never feels right because it comes about through a sense of awkwardness. I kept laughing during my viewing, along with the audience, at scenes that were unsettling, but I couldn’t stop. It’s like the absurdity of Joaquin’s laugh or the unsettling nature of whatever scenario was on the screen necessitated a laugh as a response. There are genuine moments of black humor that don’t rely on perverting the disturbing, but they’re more spread out through out the movie.
The movie is shot beautifully- everything feels gritty and realistic. The usage of different color palettes really helps make certain transformations more mesmerizing, but also help cast doubt on the reality of the situations. In fact, the movie plays a lot with reality and interpretation. Very early on, the film sets up a fantasy sequence of Arthur in a comedy show. It helps inform the audience that Arthur is prone to engage in delusion, but because of the way it’s placed in the narrative with no kind of “announcement” that this was no longer reality, the audience no longer has any expectation that what they’ll see on the screen is real. This tinges the movie with the idea that things might just be hallucinations. The feeling is maintained well until a certain juncture in the movie which feels a bit too heavy handed. It ruined the immersive and unnerving feel the movie had had up till that point.
Thematically the movie falls a bit flatter than I thought it would. The progression of the riot and the protest movement feels rushed and is something I wish was more fleshed out. The themes of class consciousness feel a bit more muddled and become even more confusing given the film’s attempt at cutely including actual Batman characters. Like having Thomas Wayne (Brett Cullen) in the movie is cool, but he feels like a big bad as opposed to some artistic depiction of the character from the comics- so the feeling doesn’t play out as well.
Report Card
TLDR
Joker is a beautiful deep dive into the psyche of a broken and battered man. Phoenix’s performance is mesmerizing and the theme is provocative , even if slightly inconsistent, in the questions its asking. Joaquin ‘s performance justifies the price of admission by itself. One of the best movies of 2019. If you can handle some painful scenes, buckle up for one of the wildest rides.
I put off watching this movie for so long because of its branding as an awful torture porn series. Thankfully, at least in this first iteration of the Saw Franchise, Saw, the gore is never a huge issue. Instead, James Wan attempts to tell a psychological mystery story- an exploration into the morally ambiguous. The plot follows Lawrence (Cary Elwes) and Adam (Leigh Whannell) as they find themselves trapped in a sick twisted death game – forced to figure out clues in a race against time.
The plot here is messy, but fun and thought provoking. There are red herrings. There are flashbacks within flashbacks. New twists and turns constantly appear. This in turn had me constantly asking why. Why were the characters in this situation? Who is Jigsaw and why was he doing what he was doing? As more information is revealed, my view and ideas on what was going on to and around the characters become more nuanced- almost like a jigsaw puzzle (wink wink). However, the constant information dump does feel messy at times.
I like how experimental the film is. The main villain, Jigsaw, teeters on the edge- not fully evil, but certainly not good. The juxtaposition between his selection process and stated purpose will have you asking if he’s morally ambiguous or just straight up a psychopath.
The scenes inside of the run down bathroom were shot great. Whenever the camera focused on Lawrence, it stayed steady- like his character. However, when it shifted to Adam, it rocked, highlighting his erratic nature. However, a lot of the action scenes were choppy and felt out of place. There were too many jumps and it felt like the whole piece would’ve been stronger without them.
Rating
TLDR:Saw, is an interesting journey that plays out a lot like a puzzle. The journey is disorienting at times, but watching Lawrence and Adam try and piece everything together is incredibly suspenseful and gripping.
Final Rating: 8.1/10. The movie is ambitious, in spite of its flaws. Anyone who likes a good mystery or wants a movie with a nuanced villain should check this out.
“Believe me, you don’t want Hannibal Lecter inside of your head.” Though Dr. Chilton (Anthonly Heald) gave the warning to Clarice (Jodie Foster), it almost felt like a subtle warning to the viewer. The beauty of Jonathan Demme’s psychological-horror, The Silence of the Lambs, is that most of the scares in the movie come from the uncomfortable nature and presentation of the characters and their motivations. The film follows the FBI cadet, Clarice, as she attempts to get advice and help from Dr. Hannibal Lecter (Anthony Hopkins), an incarcerated cannibal, to stop mass murderer, Buffalo Bill.
The movie plays on the viewers engagement and understanding of each of the characters and their respective motivations. During dialogue scenes, the camera usually fully focuses on whoever is talking with no distractions. This helps create the effect that the characters are talking to us and generates a deeper investment into the characters and the story.
Claire’s treatment also highlights the way our gazes constantly reinforce and generate certain expectations. Despite being intelligent and qualified, she is often treated as eye candy by almost every male she meets. This creates a voyeuristic juxtaposition which highlights and makes the horror more palpable. Because we relate to and understand the character more we feel her plight. But because we’re also outside viewers it becomes easier to watch the way society objectifies her. Simultaneously, a subject and an object- the identification made me feel unnerved by revealing my own biases while watching.
Scares here are less visceral and more subtle. Jodie Foster and Anthony Hopkins steal the show here and their lengthy dialogues are tense and informative. Even though they spend most of their time just talking to each other, the delivery and pacing, made the scenes feel far more “impactful” than traditional dialogue. Since the human psyche here is the battlefield, it makes sense that the action comes through best in the intellectual probing battle,as both characters try to feel each other out. Horror here mainly comes from thoughts and suggestions. There are some disturbing images through the movie, but they’re used sparingly to preserve impact and to highlight the psychological terror.
Rating
TLDR:The Silence of the Lambs is a terrifying romp through the human psyche. It forces us to confront our own biases and asks us uncomfortable questions about the way we act in this world.
Final Rating: 10/10. If you enjoy psychological movies or like shows like Mindhunter or Criminal Minds, then you’ll end up loving this. This might be one of the most unnerving movies I’ve ever watched and I know I’ll come back to it eventually.
