With a Twist: Halloween Edition

This column is all about discussing later movie events, things that happen after the first third and below the fold. Spoilers abound. 

The Thing(1982)

Say what you will about John Carpenter, but the man knows how to make a horror film. Though he’s known best for his 1978 classic “Halloween,” Carpenter has stated that of all the films he’s made, “The Thing” is his favorite.

Set in a remote Antarctic base, the titular thing is a shape-shifting alien that assumes the likeness of those it kills. Once it’s found its way into the American base, the scientists find themselves battling an enemy they know nothing about.

Pulp Diction Playlist: Halloween Edition

A column wherein we provide lineups for the perfect movie night, or at least a very long one filled with quality movies. 

Bad Motherfilmers’ Most Officious Halloween Playlist

Happy Best Time of the Year*, readers! Many full and spooky moons ago, fellow Bad Motherfilmer Zosha and I compiled a list of movies that, when watched in a precise order, best captured our imaginings of the perfect Halloween (we didn’t get out much in high school but have been assured that watching seven movies in one night is basically as good as socialization). Below is a historical recreation of that very list.

*Any insinuation that Halloween is the, “Best Time of the Year” is NOT a reflection of the personal opinions held by Bad Motherfilmer Isobel, and is in fact scientifically proven. Come at me.

Under the Skin

Most people would probably not turn down an invitation to go home with Scarlett Johansson. But most people would also not expect Scarlett Johansson to be an alien out to harvest human organs. That provocative notion is the exact premise of Jonathan Glazer’s, Under the Skin.

As could be inferred from the premise the best word to describe the film would be unsettling, and Glazer certainly deploys all the cinematic techniques in his arsenal to reach the desired ambiance. The visuals are bold and terrifying, using blaring lights and criss shadows that pain us to watch but find difficult to look away. He is also able to able to contrast that with more muted grey palettes that create foreboding landscapes. All of this is accompanied by one of the most purposeful scores of the year. The combination of a deep pulsating percussion and cacophonous screeches make sure that anxiety never leaves the room.  

Despite being rather polished from a cinematic perspective, the film finds itself lacking in both pacing and structure. The first half of the films plays like a monster movie from the perspective of the monster, where we see Scarlett Johansson as “The Alien” lure unsuspecting men into their eviscerated deaths. Then, there is a tonal shift in the second half, where The Alien begins to sympathize with humans and drudges throughout England pondering her isolation and identity.

While this shift could have certainly made for an intriguing narrative, the execution failed to live up to its lofty goals. The first half of the films becomes very repetitive in its stalk and capture structure while the second half feels drawn out and aimless. Scarlett Johansson certainly flexes her acting chops in the role, by moving between a seductive killer and melancholy wanderer, but because the film is barely tethered to it plot, we never truly identify with her character or the overall story.  

As one of the more challenging films of the year, Under the Skin is sure not going to whet every filmgoer’s appetite.  Those who enjoy more experimental works such as David Lynch’s Eraserhead can look tol appreciate it’s bizarre and existential look on scifi horror.  For the rest of us, it might just get under our skin.    

The Counselor

They say the devil’s in the details. It’s a jaunt in the hips; the cheetah at the party; the black suit versus the white suit. But The Counselor is a movie that’s all about the lack of details as it sweeps the audience up into an intimate whirlwind of crime. It’s a complicated and dramatic thriller, perhaps a little overly so. Cocksure in its complexity, the movie is so concerned with setting up its endgame that it ventures into incoherency. It’s certainly downright riveting, but it never fully explains why it needs so much intricacy. 

The titular counselor, played by Michael Fassbender (Prometheus, Shame), quickly finds himself in over his head when he decides to dabble in the dark world of drug trafficking with the cartel to make a quick buck. You don’t learn his—or anyone’s—backstory. The audience learns only brief facts mentioned in conversation or inferred through cinematic suggestion (it’s clear that the sleek and fashionable lifestyle of the counselor is not in desperate need of the spare cash). Even the cartel is relegated to the shadows, found only in haunting hearsay and one monumental phone call. 

It’s trademark Cormac McCarthy fare: a cryptic plot driven by hint-laden dialogue comes with the territory. The Counselor is McCarthy’s first original screenplay, and it can’t quite rival the cinematic prose of the Academy Award-winning McCarthy adaptation No Country for Old Men. In the case of The Counselor, he seems to falls back on clichéd film tropes. There’s still McCarthy’s signature brutal violence on the U.S-Mexico border and Javier Bardem running around with crazy hair, but it now comes coupled with Hollywood-hustler dialogue and plenty of the Madonna-whore complex (though writing substantive women has never been McCarthy’s strong suit). The film hangs loosely on the premise of the best-laid plans for $21 million in drugs and focuses a bit more on the moral question at its center: why a man with a fiancée like Penelope Cruz (who plays Laura, the naïve betrothed of Fassbender’s character) would risk it all in the name of greed.

The Counselor might work better if its philosophical quandaries were simplified to create a smoother and more concentrated thriller. All the mess due to lack of details doesn’t diminish the somber blow of the grim final act—Ridley Scott (Bladerunner, Prometheus) directed it after all—and his technical proficiency often leads to unfeeling, icy violence. But in the end, it’s clear that Scott and McCarthy tried to craft a devilish drama, but weren’t nearly detailed oriented enough to create a film with their desired depth.

Graceland

A man has his daughter kidnapped and he does everything in his power to get her back.  Before you think that this is a review for Taken 3: Keeping Track of People isn’t in his set of Acquired Skills, rest assured, Liam Neeson isn’t at all attached to this movie. Graceland trades Neeson for Marlon Villar (Arnold Reyes), an ordinary driver for the corrupt government official Manuel Chango (Menggie Cobarrubias).  The kidnapper, Visel (Leon Miguel), takes both Chango’s and Villar’s daughters; forcing them deeper and deeper into the seedy streets of the Philippines.  

Don’t expect any crazy heroic combat.  Villar is not a superhero. He does not have any set of skills.  He is an incredibly ordinary man placed in the most impossible of situations, desperately grasping at the chance for a return to stability.

Director and writer Ron Morales methodically constructs his thriller with no room for breathing or steady hands.  Gasps for calm are neglected for exposed nerves and a hemorrhaging sense of humanity.  We are completely immersed and helplessly suspended as we fall deeper and deeper into a worsening situation.  

Morales achieves this with a unique blend of a raw, visceral grain and a hypnotic stylism.  He shades his cinema verite patina with a deep and sonorous score.  The echoes of the sobering music paralleled the reverberating trauma and depth resonating within each character.   

With so many bland thrillers these days relying on one or two major punches, Morales provides a refreshingly creatively change of pace with both a complex and decadent script.  As the film progresses, more and more layers are peeled back and festering motives and secrets are revealed.  We slowly and unwillingly realize the horrific limits people are willing to break in the goal of achieving the simplest and most basal of aims.

Graceland is the complete antithesis of an American thriller.  There is no flash, no amazing set pieces, and no headlining star.  Graceland  is cinema at it’s purest form; brutally committed performances, a script full of tremendous depth and realized potential, and the grappling of terribly relevant themes such as sexual exploitation and human trafficking.  So Neeson may add style and grace to Taken films, but much like real life, Graceland has none.  

Stoker

Fear for the whole family

Park Chan-wook has never shied away from bizarre, dysfunctional, and often vicious dynamics in his films. The Korean filmmaker rose to prominence with his Vengeance Trilogy and now continues his legacy of twisted relationships with “Stoker.”

Quiet and observant India Stoker (Mia Wasikowska, Jane Eyre, Lawless) has just lost her father, Richard (Dermot Mulroney), in a tragic car accident. As she and her emotionally unstable mother, Evelyn (Nicole Kidman), prepare for the funeral and life without him, Richard’s brother Charlie (Matthew Goode) shows up to look after India and her mother. 

Although Evelyn quickly welcomes Charlie into their home, India is disturbed by his continual attention and becomes more curious about what lies behind his boyish smile. As time passes, she tries to find out what he’s up to and begins to find herself drawn into Charlie’s web.

There’s no real punch to the final act driving this thriller home, but the simple coming-of-age plot device is easy to pull off. Internationally acclaimed for his impeccable framing and brutal imagery in his native Korea, this is director Park’s first English film, as well as his first film he hasn’t written. 

The plot, however intriguing it ends up being to audiences, is much simpler than the plots of Park’s previous films. It’s not so much a complicated thriller, like “Oldboy,” as it is a ruminating one. “Stoker” certainly has more of an American aesthetic than most of Park’s repertoire. Steeped in a gothic tone and vintage fashion, the movie has a solemn and aged feeling to it, which is perfect for a modern story about a loss of innocence. 

The film’s true triumph is in Park’s direction. Every shot is like a well-framed oil painting, utilizing every inch of the screen to draw in viewers and heighten suspense. From the quiet shift in perspective on a scene to the smooth transition between characters, Park is a master of increasing the tension of any scene. The film draws its sense of intrigue and slow reveal from Alfred Hitchcock’s style. Even Charlie’s unexpected return is straight out of “Shadow of a Doubt,” Hitchcock’s film in which a character called Uncle Charlie returns from “traveling” with a much darker secret.

Goode brings an air of mystery to his role as dark, unnerving, J. Crew model-like Charlie. If he couldn’t simultaneously sell the charm and the gloom that hangs over “Stoker,” then the movie wouldn’t work nearly as well. 

Wasikowska’s ethereal and dreamy nature plays well for India’s character. India becomes a muted but sharp woman, who even in her quietness still presents herself as a curious narrator throughout the film’s twists. Watching her observe and grow into a woman throughout the film is a suspense in itself.

While “Stoker” is stunning to behold in terms of acting and cinematography, it’s even more wonderful to hear. The sound-mixing of the movie helps build suspense with its constant background noise and awkward silences. Between the rustle of the wind, the creak of the house, and the quiet footsteps, this aural landscape is central to the film and to the character of India, who “sees and hears what others cannot.”

Layered on top of the pristine direction, growing suspense, and enigmatic acting is the uncomplicated but eerie soundtrack by Clint Mansell, perfectly laying the groundwork for Park’s suspenseful film. It sets the mood of every chilling moment of the film with simple elegance.

While the script may seem too melodramatic or lacking in proper character motivation at times, it’s easy to forget that in the wake of such a grand project. “Stoker” is meticulous, beautiful, and too captivating to miss. 

The verdict: Not the most surprising thriller, but the details make it alluring. 

 

Side Effects

Now covered by Obamacare. 

From the very first shot, there’s something eerily off about “Side Effects.” With a music-box feel to the score as the camera swoops slowly toward an apartment window, you’re set on edge by how normal it all seems — until the film moves inside the apartment, where there’s blood on the floor and footsteps leading away.

Cut to three months before: Emily Taylor (Rooney Mara) happily greets her husband Martin (Channing Tatum) on the day he’s released from prison, where he served four years for insider trading. But soon Emily begins showing signs of depression and anxiety, and attempts to commit suicide by driving her car into a wall. 

At the hospital, she’s treated in the emergency room by Dr. Jonathan Banks (Jude Law), a distinguished young psychiatrist making a name for himself in New York City. He agrees not to admit her if she schedules regular appointments with him and starts taking medication. But soon the side effects of the pills cause everyone’s lives to spiral out of control. 

Thrillers like “Side Effects” are tricky to get right. Twists and turns are standard practice in the genre, but a thriller is only as good as its final (metaphorical) punch — anything less than just the right balance, and the whole film feels like a huge letdown. 

Well, this movie doesn’t quite get it right. After the movie has returned to the bloody attack in the apartment, “Side Effects” loses a bit of its momentum and never gets it back. And once the final act has untangled itself, it’s disappointing to see how the dust settles. 

But while the ending may not drive this film home, the strong technical execution lets “Side Effects” land on its feet. Cinematography is essential to the plot-convolution and character-building, commanding both the anxiety of the actors and the escalating drama. The creative use of focus and depth of field only heightens the ever-building tension of the movie. 

“Side Effects” wouldn’t be half as convincing if it weren’t for great performances from the cast, notably from Rooney, whose mesmerizing style intensifies Emily’s depression and drug-induced haze, giving the role some dimensional credibility. Her depth is offset by Law’s superficiality as Dr. Banks; his well-meaning but pill-pushing approach to medicine is a key element to both the plot and the subtext. 

Director Steven Soderbergh’s cinematic skill turns an otherwise uninspired script into something quite intriguing. Even in the moments when it drags, the film has an element of unpredictability to hold the audience’s attention. It’s only once the credits roll that it becomes clear it didn’t deliver everything it promised. 

The verdict: Though nothing to go crazy over, “Side Effects” is still a sleek and stylish thriller. 

Broken City

On the plus side, Russell Crowe doesn’t sing

It’s been seven years since Billy Taggart (Mark Wahlberg) had to quit the police force after shooting an unarmed youth. As election season draws to a close in modern-day New York City, Taggart’s private detective business isn’t doing great. That is until Mayor Nicholas Hostetler (Russell Crowe) offers Taggart a hefty $50,000 to follow Cathleen Hostetler, his unfaithful wife (Catherine Zeta-Jones). But Billy soon realizes that the mayor is keeping his own secrets. 

“Broken City” has all the makings of a great crime thriller: political intrigue, melodrama, grit, and twists from every angle. The film tries its hardest to deliver some stunning noir intrigue. But in the end, the movie aspires to do far more than it can manage, and like the politics it portrays, feels detached and staged.

In addition to the main plot, Wahlberg’s character deals with alcoholism and the premiere of his girlfriend’s indie film career. These are certainly plotlines that could add some real depth to a character — if they went anywhere. Both of the side stories are dropped halfway through the movie, with no explanation of why they were there in the first place. 

You start to lose count of how many drinks Billy (that’s right, the reformed alcoholic — a plot hole none of the characters seem concerned with) throws back during overly intense conversations with his associates.

And that’s only Billy’s side of the plot puzzle. Once the film dives into the actual drama, it’s too confusing to feel anything but gimmicky. 

The cast doesn’t quite make up for what the writing can’t accomplish. While Crowe gives a certain megalomania to Mayor Hostetler, few others manage to bring much life to their characters. While it’s entertaining enough to watch Billy trail the mayor’s wife across town, Wahlberg is little more than a blank, muscled slate that “Broken City” needs to advance its plot. He’s a glorified stand-in the film needs to untangle the web of lies. 

Somewhere between the dropped plot lines and the less-than-inspired writing is an honest attempt at elaborate intrigue. But by focusing too much on complicating the plot, the writers forgot to ground it with real characters. 

Any interesting political commentary “Broken City” could’ve made on political corruption, economic crisis, gentrification, or police brutality is lost amid a sea of exaggerated drama. Once the initial framework develops, it’s all scene after scene of melodrama and gratuitous intensity. 

Sure, the film manages a zinger and a twist here and there, but with so much nonsense to wade through, there’s too much broken in this movie to move it beyond a popcorn flick.

The verdict: Unnecessarily complicated, this movie cannot be taken seriously despite all of its hard work.

Deadfall

Some movies are worth reserving tickets for months in advance, where camping out in a line around the block brings a sense of pride and excitement. Then there are films that are a pleasant surprise at the box office.

But there are also duds that aren’t worth the price of admission, and belong on TV — I’m talking late night, insomnia-ridden, movie marathons that play on cable channels. Unfortunately, this is the world “Deadfall” lives in.

While on the run for the Canadian border after an attempted casino heist, siblings Addison (Eric Bana) and Liza’s (Olivia Wilde) car gets wrecked when they hit a deer in a snowstorm. After Addison shoots the trooper who stops to help, the pair decide to split up to avoid detection.

Addison continues his murderous rampage whilst evading the local law, such as Hanna (Kate Mara), a young officer who can’t get the respect she deserves. Meanwhile, Liza hitches a ride with Jay (Charlie Hunnam), a disgraced boxer recently released from prison and on his way to make amends with his parents. Sounds promising, right?

And it really tries hard to be, but it isn’t. Even though it manages to do all right maneuvering its scattered plot lines, “Deadfall” has too much going on for a movie that takes place over the course of about 40 hours. The end provides little justification for the extraneous plot lines.

Neither Jay nor Hanna’s backstories are interesting compared to the siblings,  especially because neither character is written well enough to pull it off. Jay and Liza’s inevitable love story seems forced; it’s unclear how quickly they became so close.

The strengths of “Deadfall” are much more concentrated in creating a proper atmosphere than quality dialogue. With grisly violence set against the bleak backdrop of a Michigan blizzard, there’s a neo-noir feel to “Deadfall” that’s been in style recently. If the film had pulled this off, it might have set it apart from other B-movie thrillers. But despite an impressive enough cast, there’s no real chance of salvaging them as consistent characters with clever dialogue.

Screenwriter Zach Dean must’ve hoped that stereotypical (and sometimes racist) regional associations of Native Americans and backcountry farmers would flesh out his characters for him, but this effort more than flops. What’s left are stilted and erratic characters that act out of necessity of the plot. Most of the scenes and emotions seem connected only by the loosest thread in Dean’s brain.

At the end of this movie there’s no feeling of anything gained by watching it. “Deadfall” isn’t the worst thriller, but it is certainly not anywhere close to good. Even for students rendered brain dead by finals, there are better movies to see this time of year.

The verdict: Despite the neo-noir feel, this one is best left for late-night TV.

The Imposter

Imagine that your sister is not your sister. Your neighbor is not your neighbor. Your friend is not your friend.  No, this is not a review for The Matrix, but The Imposter; a documentary depicting the tale of a French con-man, Frederic Bourdin impersonating the missing child Nicholas Barclay and conniving his way into the Barclay family.

The film reads like a how-to on stealing someone’s identity: Bourdin, dark-haired and brown eyed manages to convince the blond and blue-eyed Barclay family with his accented English that he is, in fact, their long-missing (now) 16 year old son.  He weaves tales of sexual abuse, human trafficking, and bodily mutilation; so detailed and indiscreet he even cons the FBI.  

The Imposter is all about narrative.  The film watches like a page-turning crime novel, mesmerising with nerve racking twists (boy howdy are there twists) and unpalatable morality. It cleverly edits and weaves between dramatization and talking heads with a devil’s wit and sardonic sense of humour. The film is wonderfully rounded out with gorgeous cinematography; carving out dark corners creeping with lies and secrets.   

Ultimately, the movie comes off as an extended A&E (hey that’s the name of the production company) true crime special.  Towards the end, it starts to spin its wheels. The film can’t (of course) offer any breakthroughs or new revelations to the case that can’t be found on its wikipedia article, and the narrative begins to sag when the film should have ended 10-20 minutes prior.  However it’s spine-tingling observations and dense narrative are both chilling and engrossing; I con you not.