 The Keep is quite unlike any other film Michael Mann’s ever directed, which is probably why it remains so intensely fascinating. The story follows a garrison of German soldiers - led by Jurgen Prochnow - dispatched to a Romanian village near the Carpathian mountains, which includes a mysterious citadel known simply as “the keep.” When the Nazis inadvertently unleash an ancient entity confined within - and start dying one-by-one - a ruthless SS officer (Gabriel Byrne) is tasked with restoring order (Byrne’s Major Kaempffer to Ian McKellen’s Jewish folklore professor, in one of the more cold-blooded lines you’ll ever hear a Nazi utter on-screen - “The people that go to these ‘assessment camps’… there are only two doors, one in and one out. And the one out is a chimney”). If we’re being ruthlessly honest, The Keep would probably be best filed under the category of “well-intentioned misfires.” Mann was infamously forced to hack his original three-and-a-half hour cut into a severely truncated 96-minute version that frequently flirts with narrative incoherence. Original DP Alex Thomson wasn’t available for reshoots, which gives the film a visually uneven look. The lackluster special effects can be attributed to the untimely death of visual effects supervisor Wally Veevers two weeks into post-production. Many of Mann’s more ambitious visual concepts and set pieces were scrapped or drastically scaled back. To say the end product is a compromised vision would be an understatement. And yet… the film has a dreamlike intensity (heightened, as so many films of the 80s were, by its Tangerine Dream score) that’s utterly unlike Mann’s more carefully calibrated urban thrillers. Slow-motion shots of Nazi soldiers running through the eerie, mist-shrouded corridors of the keep lodge themselves in the subconscious. The narrative soufflé never quite rises, but the ingredients (including Scott Glenn as an angelic warrior drawn by the entity’s growing power) have a ripe, almost Wagnerian potential to them. For obvious reasons, the Nazis have long served as cinematic shorthand for on-screen villainy, so it’s striking to see them rendered insignificant against a cosmic backdrop of good vs evil. Even more boldly, McKellen’s Dr. Theodore Cuza initially believes he’s acting as a savior to his people, only to realize he may be unleashing an even greater darkness on the world - far from the typical tenor of a story with direct ties to the Holocaust. The Keep is messy and imperfect, but there’s a reason its cult legacy has endured - like its titular structure, there’s a certain power thrumming deep in its walls.  Overlord is packaged like cinematic orange juice - extra pulp. The JJ Abrams-produced film, like so many World War II action pics that came before, hinges on a desperate, against-the-odds mission - a squadron of paratroopers, deposited behind enemy lines and tasked with destroying a German radio-jamming tower as part of the larger D-Day offensive. But the transport plane is shot down (glance at your phone and you might miss a cameo by Joseph Quinn of Stranger Things fame) and, in the blink of an eye, the squadron is reduced to little more than a quartet - including Boyce (Jovan Adepo), a Black soldier whose stomach for combat is in question; Corporal-in-command Ford (Wyatt Russell); and Tibbet (John Magaro), the sort of loud-mouthed Brooklynite who almost feels like a prerequisite in stories like these.
It doesn’t take long for the Americans to cotton on to the fact that the Nazis are up to something far more sinister in the local church they’ve requisitioned as their base of operations. “A thousand year army… needs thousand year soldiers,” hints SS baddie Captain Wafner (Pilou Asbaek)… not that it’s terribly difficult to suss out what’s happening in their secret labs. Director Julius Avery keeps the story’s B-movie machinery humming fluidly, though you might find yourself wishing the plot had an additional gear or two… as it might very well have in the hands of a filmmaker like Guillermo Del Toro (or even Stuart Gordon)… or that it was willing to go truly bonkers in the third act. But even so, there’s a muscular quality to the horror here, and the film is well-served by its low-key cast (Adepo has a soft, soulful quality, and while nepotism can be a double-edged sword, Russell shows a star quality that’s slightly flintier than his father’s). More than anything, Overlord is a reminder of why seeing Nazis dabble in the occult and fringe science remains such a tantalizing proposition - it’s an irresistible nexus of history and fantasy, of imagination and nightmare, of real and make-believe monsters.
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I love the Aero’s all-night Horrorthon here in Los Angeles. It’s one of my favorite nights of the entire year. I first went in 2016, had to miss it in 2017, and have religiously attended every year since (with the exception of 2020, which was cancelled due to Covid). I’m more convinced than ever that the “cool kids” make a point of attending the New Beverly’s horror marathon, while the freaks and misfits flock to the Aero… with its bizarre subculture (“All hail the Corn Gorn!”) and weird rituals (“No more dirty catheters!”)… pre-show entertainment that revolves around everything from Telly Savalas to commercials for the Red Roof Inn (my personal favorite) to the US Census Bureau to Dennis Parker’s music video for “Like an Eagle” (don’t ask)… and oddball prizes (in recent years I’ve taken home a) a blu-ray copy of Enemy of the State (which I sold at Amoeba Music) b) a VHS copy of the Shirley Temple film Dimples (which I hid in my former roommate’s luggage before he moved to Kansas City) and c) a VHS copy of The Sand Pebbles with Steve McQueen (which I guess is still stashed in my closet somewhere)).
The marathon used to be seven movies, but seems to have been scaled back to six post-Covid… but then I’ve never actually made it past four. Someday, perhaps. Anyway, in honor of the 17th Annual Aero Horrorthon this Saturday, I thought I would rank all of the films I’ve seen over the years. It’s important to stress that this isn’t simply a straight ranking of the movies in question - context plays a large role as well. So without further adieu -- 15. Ruby (1977 - Curtis Harrington) This Piper Laurie movie (something about a former gun moll running a drive-in theater with her mute daughter) was a torturously-paced drag, and the print was so scratched up it was barely even watchable. I napped defiantly through most of it. 14. Devil Fetus (1983 - Hung-Cheun Lau) I am 100% all for the Horrorthon featuring more Asian cinema… but not cheap, forgettable junk like this. What a waste of time. There’s *so much* cool stuff out there, between Japan, South Korea, and Hong Kong. Do better, please. 13. Body Melt (1993 - Philip Brophy) By far the best thing about this movie was its tagline (Stage 1: Hallucinations. Stage 2: Organ Failure. Stage 3: Body Melt). Mostly it was just a poor imitation of Peter Jackson’s early work (specifically Dead Alive), with a few gonzo flourishes and a really bad script. 12. It’s Alive (1974 - Larry Cohen) This film is widely considered a cult classic (spawning a franchise of sorts), and features several overqualified collaborators (Rick Baker creature effects! Bernard Herrmann score!), but I had a lot of trouble getting past the grubby visuals and cheap exploitation vibe. 11. Nightbeast (1982 - Don Dohler) This movie’s production values are like half a notch above the sort of films you’d make in the backyard with the family Camcorder… and yet, the end result kinda, sorta won me over with its clumsy charms, low-rent special effects, and really weird, drawn-out sex scene. 10. Phantasm 2 (1988 - Don Coscarelli) I’ll be honest… I don’t actually remember all that much about this movie, as I was basically running on fumes during it… but my basic impression was that if you decreased your enjoyment of the original Phantasm by like, I dunno… 15-20%?… then you’d essentially get this sequel. 09. Link (1986 - Richard Franklin) Man, the 80s really were just a bottomless reservoir of random-ass movies, huh? Case in point - this totally bizarre Terence Stamp/Elisabeth Shue vehicle about an orangutan butler who turns murderous. Yes, that’s the actual plot. And it’s… actually kinda decent? 08. In the Mouth of Madness (1994 - John Carpenter) This was a really fun opener, and the only reason it’s been dropped this low is the fact that I’d watched it several times in the preceding years. Also, the middle section flounders a bit, but unhinged 90s Sam Neill is the best kind of Sam Neill. 07. Halloween II (1981 - Rick Rosenthal) Based on sheer quality, this obvious horror classic would be ranked much higher… but I’d literally just watched it, so the timing was unfortunate. That being said, the print was great and the crowd was seriously fired up - this screening came in *hot*. Yowza, I just singed my fingers! 06. Maximum Overdrive (1986 - Stephen King) I might have been more amped for this than any other Horrorthon screening to date. Of course, the film makes a pretty compelling case for why Stephen King never actually directed another feature, but its whole vibe lends itself nicely to chugging energy drinks at two in the morning. 05. Critters (1986 - Stephen Herek) I totally adored this cheap Gremlins knockoff as a kid, and hadn’t actually seen it since the 80s… so even though it hasn’t exactly aged all that well (disappointingly), the nostalgic impact of this screening cannot be overstated. Two words: Johnny Steele! 04. House of Wax (2005 - Jaume Collet-Serra) Yeah, okay - this is probably way too high, but I was in *exactly* the right mood at the time (also I was tweaking on Rockstar Silver Ice). I miss the early aughts, when studios routinely dropped 40-million on horror flicks like these without batting an eye. Added bonus - Elisha Cuthbert in a tank top. 03. The Blob (1988 - Chuck Russell) Popped my Horrorthon cherry with this inspired opener (you might notice the opening selections are never duds - no fools, these Horrorthon programmers). This is actually an impressively gruesome film that stands alongside The Thing and The Fly amongst the very best 80s horror remakes. 02. Jason X (2001 - James Isaac) I was stunned how much fun I had rewatching this F13 entry (which I’d brusquely dismissed back in 2001). Part of it was the film being yet another perfect opener, but I also better appreciate that era of New Line horror now, when they just did crazy crap like “Uber-Jason… in space!!!” 01. The Entity (1982 - Sidney J. Furie) This deeply unsettling paranormal thriller (inspired by true events) had me rapt. What’s funny is, it’s precisely the *wrong* sort of movie for a Horrorthon - it’s not “fun,” it’s extremely mood-heavy, and it runs a whooping 125 minutes. And yet, it remains easily my favorite screening to-date. 10/19/2022 0 Comments Halloween ends Halloween Ends is a difficult film to unpack. Back in 2018, David Gordon Green launched an all-new Halloween trilogy that came with a hook that was easy for fans to rally behind - a direct continuation of John Carpenter’s iconic 1978 original, that would conclude the saga of Laurie Strode (Jamie Lee Curtis) while sweeping aside all prior sequels like accumulated dust in an attic. The first film was largely celebrated as a triumph, but lacked narrative innovation; for all the talk of its grandiose intentions, it mostly functioned like a standard slasher sequel. Follow-up Halloween Kills met with a far frostier reception, though it was never really clear why. The film had an often brutal directness, and touched on intriguing themes of mob justice that felt fresh. If the overall framework was a bit rickety, it at least felt as if the boundaries of the franchise were being stress-tested.
One gets the sneaking sense that Halloween Ends may have been the horror film Gordon Green wanted to make all along. It abruptly jumps four years and finds Laurie in a surprisingly good place, working on her memoir, providing a home for granddaughter Allyson (Andi Matichak) and finding ways to heal. Much of the movie revolves around an entirely new character - Corey Cunningham (Rohan Campbell) - once one of Haddonfield’s best and brightest, whose life was derailed by a horrifying accident that still casts a pall to this day. Allyson is drawn to him, sensing kindred trauma… but Corey’s inner demons draw him to Michael Myers, lurking in the sewers, where a symbiotic bond begins to sprout between the two of them. This is a fascinating concept for a Halloween movie… and in Corey, it actually has a character compelling enough to make it work… but it may not have been the right concept for this Halloween movie - the concluding chapter of a trilogy and, what’s more, the climactic payoff of the entire Strode saga. Gordon Green’s subversive approach has clearly alienated a good number of horror fans, and they aren’t wrong to feel that way. The film takes big, strange, admirable swings… but that doesn’t mean its ideas necessarily coalesce. So much of the script feels at odds with itself, its narrative elements in strident conflict with one another. Corey and Michael vie for control of the mask, but they might as well be awkwardly battling for the soul of the movie itself. Like Stephen King, Gordon Green seems drawn to the idea of a town functioning almost as its own character… evil emboldened and shaped by the moral rot festering within. Turning the lens on Haddonfield feels like an appropriate choice, but the arc between films remains elusive. Halloween Kills teased the concept, but failed to lay the thematic groundwork with any real conviction (frankly, it also had the wrong ending - Judy Greer's climactic death specifically heightening the stakes in a way the subsequent film doesn't act on). If Michael derives his aura of invincibility from the fear and anger of the community, why is he left in a near-crippled state for four long years, even though, by Laurie’s own admission, things in town have gotten progressively worse? If the point is evil seeking an outlet in the form of a new boogeyman, why does the movie even need Michael at all? At one point, during Halloween Kills, Deputy Hawkins (Will Patton) tells Laurie point-blank "It's not about you." Except... it is, which is why Corey gets shunted aside in favor of Michael and Laurie’s mandatory showdown, which unfolds with surprisingly little dramatic buildup, or context. This is how Halloween ends, apparently - compelled by a strict sense of obligation. Curtis, as indomitable a presence as ever, deserved better for her (presumptive) swan song. But then the Halloween franchise has always worn its flaws proudly. Aside from universal reverence of Carpenter’s original, you’d be hard-pressed to find any real consensus amongst the fanbase when it comes to evaluating the films. Every entry (even Rob Zombie’s grungy contributions) has its own set of champions and detractors. The David Gordon Green trilogy, an inconsistent but worthwhile venture, is no exception - it may have aspired to divorce itself completely from the sequels, but ironically found a comfortable home amongst them instead. 10/8/2022 0 Comments Hellraiser (2022) Like a radioactive isotope, the Hellraiser franchise has existed predominately in a state of exponential decay. Clive Barker’s 1987 original, which first introduced Pinhead and his Cenobite brood, is still revered as a classic of the genre, and for good reason. Few horror films before or since have felt more startlingly original or inimitable in their creative vision. Follow-up Hellbound: Hellraiser II remained potent, if somewhat diminished… and the series has been trending downwards ever since.
The new Hellraiser installment, which landed at Hulu, has generated a certain level of fanfare… but basic competency can seem like a tall glass of ice water to a dying man in the desert when it comes to these movies (particularly the most recent iterations - Revelations and Judgment - the epitome of films that were crapped out solely to fulfill a rights obligation). Not surprisingly, this reboot doesn’t show much interest in pushing the narrative envelope. Following a prologue that introduces us to the less-than-scrupulous millionaire Roland Voight (Goran Visnjic) and his acquisition of the infamous puzzle box that serves as the catalyst of every Hellraiser film, we jump ahead six years as the box finds its way into the possession of recovering addict Riley (Odessa A’zion, who’s like Alia Shawkat’s more emotionally frayed sister). Screenwriters Ben Collins and Luke Piotrowski do have some fun tweaking the core mythology though - the box now takes different forms (known as “configurations”), each one designed to claim the blood of a new victim. Once the process is complete, the box’s wielder is entitled to request a boon (“knowledge,” “sensation,” etc…) from Leviathan, the god-like entity the Cenobites serve. If the underlying logic can seem a bit… hazy at times, at least there’s a defined structure to what’s unfolding, giving the movie the sort of shape so many of the latter sequels lack. Riley’s brother Matt (Brandon Flynn) inadvertently becomes the box’s first sacrifice, setting the plot into motion… and the film falls into a familiar trap, in which a restless audience must wait impatiently for the characters to catch up over the mostly slow-burn first hour. Once the action shifts to Roland’s fallen-into-disrepair Berkshires mansion, however, the movie finds a more confident footing. Riley and her friends must contend with the Cenobites, as well as Roland himself, fitted with a ghastly contraption (a result of his choosing the “sensation” boon) designed to systematically tighten his nerve endings like guitar strings. Trans actress Jamie Clayton was selected to be the new Pinhead, and she’s an exciting choice. She plays the character as more of an androgynous, alien-like creature, with unnervingly black shark eyes and a slightly distorted vocal timbre. It’s difficult to fully shake the specter of Doug Bradley’s iconic portrayal, however, and that’s partly because the film, disappointingly, never gives Clayton her own signature moment (her own version of “We’ll tear your soul apart!”… or even one of the lesser Bradley “bon mots,” like “Do I look like I care what God thinks?”). Instead, she’s mostly asked to do cover versions of a few of the greatest hits (“We have such sights to show you”), but still - her potential in the role is clear to see. Hellraiser was directed by David Bruckner, who released the moody and intriguing (if not altogether successful) Rebecca Hall vehicle The Night House last year. If he seems a potentially cerebral choice, one needn’t fear - he shows an unflinching hand with the film’s gnarlier body horror elements and graphic gore. Mostly, it just feels good to have a new Hellraiser entry that’s creditably crafted and acted for once (in A’zion specifically it has someone whose performance feels like the probing of an exposed nerve) - the last time the franchise’s creative embers genuinely flickered was likely 1996’s deceptively ambitious Hellraiser: Bloodline. For the first time in years - if not decades - the series has regained a sense of purpose. That may not seem like much, but the decay, at least, has decelerated. 10/5/2022 0 Comments Alien Resurrection It’s the 25th anniversary of Alien Resurrection next month, meaning now is as good a time as any to revisit the conflicted legacy of what’s arguably become the least-discussed (and, in my experience, least *passionately* discussed) entry in the long-running Alien franchise.
Looking to *ahem* resurrect the series just four years after David Fincher, for better or for worse, steered it to is logical conclusion in Alien 3, Fox made a bold choice in tapping French art house darling Jean-Pierre Jeunet (Delicatessen, The City of Lost Children) to direct. And the setup is clever. Jumping an additional 200 years into the future, the story finds a team of scientists aboard a military vessel cloning Ellen Ripley (Sigourney Weaver) back into existence - complete with the alien queen gestating inside of her. In an amusing twist, the procedure results in a form of genetic cross-splicing, meaning this version of Ripley has heightened strength and senses, in addition to moderately acidic blood. But… hubris being what it is in movies such as these… no sooner has the science team starting diligently breeding Xenomorphs than the aliens are on the loose, wreaking all manner of havoc (and spilling all manner of blood). What’s striking, upon revisiting the film, is how simplistic the actual plot is, once you get past the high-concept premise. Ripley hooks up with a band of mercenary smugglers - including Call (Winona Ryder), who has her own closely-guarded agenda - and they have to figure out a way off the ship. That’s it. That’s the entire narrative engine - “travel from point A to point B without getting killed.” Beyond Weaver and Ryder, Jeunet assembles a pleasingly weird cavalcade of character actors - including his City of Lost Children alums Dominique Pinon and Ron Perlman, 90s favorite Michael Wincott, and reliable faces such as Dan Hedaya, Brad Dourif and J.E. Freeman - all of whom contribute to the film’s slightly grotesque, carnival sideshow slant. The art direction is striking - as it often was in 90s moviemaking, before everything became homogenized by green screen - and the film moves at an impressive clip. And Jeunet delivers one absolute banger of a set piece - an underwater chase through the flooded bowels of the ship that leads directly into a Facehugger ambush and a gripping showdown that unfolds mid-ascendance on a maintenance ladder. In terms of staging and sheer visual spectacle, it’s as good as almost anything else in the series. Unfortunately, the lack of narrative depth proves difficult to overlook. Weaver’s spark appears rekindled by this new-and-improved, almost superheroic Ripley (look no further than the basketball scene)… but the script engages only superficially with the implications of the character. Her relationship with Call suggests the surrogate mother/daughter bond she shared with Newt in Aliens, but if this was meant to be the film’s beating heart, it’s a pretty faint one (Ryder, for her part, seems oddly ill-at-ease throughout the picture). But the real misstep is the third-act revelation that the Queen, thanks to Ripley’s genetic material, has developed a human reproductive system… not the worst idea in the world, but the subsequent arrival of the repugnant alien-human hybrid derails the movie each and every time. One gets the sense Jeunet views the creature through the lens of Frankenstein’s monster… but his attempts to engender sympathy are well and truly an act of pissing in the wind. The final 25-minutes suck all the remaining air out of the movie. The real issue with Alien Resurrection though - which has firmly crystallized over this past quarter-century - is its outlier status. Disconnected from the original trilogy, laying the groundwork for future installments that never materialized, it serves no real purpose beyond the confines of its own runtime… and creatively it simply isn’t vital enough to impress itself upon the conversation (love it or loathe it, Alien 3 stakes a far more forceful claim to the discourse). In the space inhabited by the Alien franchise, its scream definitely registers as the faintest. 10/2/2022 0 Comments Don't Worry Darling
In Don’t Worry Darling, we find ourselves in the idyllic, isolated 1950s community of Victory, where Alice (Florence Pugh) and her Brit husband Jack (Harry Styles) are one of the reigning glam couples. Every morning, the men journey into the desert en masse to partake in something known as “The Victory Project” while their wives stay home to cook, clean, and otherwise idle away the day. We don’t know much about the Victory Project, other than it’s top secret and its work is taking place at the behest of Frank (Chris Pine), the town’s Svengali-like overlord. Before long, cracks start to appear in the facade of Alice’s picture-perfect existence - is she starting to mentally unravel, or is something more sinister afoot?
Don’t Worry Darling arrives cresting on a wave of toxic publicity, centered around a supposed rift between star Pugh and director Olivia Wilde. Three years ago, Wilde pivoted impressively from acting to filmmaking with the whip-sharp teen comedy Booksmart and she’s ratcheted up the ambition appreciably for her sophomore feature. Wilde’s technical and visual instincts are undeniably keen… and she did well in enlisting cinematographer Matthew Libatique (a regular collaborator of Darren Aronofsky), who lenses the world of Victory in all of its Atomic Age splendor. But the script is messy, and Wilde struggles to get a handle on her vague feminist messaging. The second act in particular feels almost like an hour-long version of the trailer, striking the same cryptic notes while idling dramatically in first gear… not unlike a Twilight Zone episode that’s been stretched out of shape in an effort to make it feature length. Pugh is not particularly well-served by the movie, but such is her talent, her screen presence, and her meteoric star quality that she emerges from the trenches virtually unscathed. Her stardom is bulletproof. There may not be another actress under the age of 30 who’s more compulsively watchable at the moment. Pop star Styles holds his own - marginally - but one can’t help but wonder how the film might have played with a lead actor blessed with more of an edge - such as original casting choice Shia LaBeouf (who was either fired or departed of his own accord, depending on who you believe). At least Pine is empowered to put his sly, fox-like charms to a more sinister use than we’re accustomed to… but his character quickly frustrates; he’s never more than a cipher, an ominous construct - as murky as the world he inhabits. There’s no denying that the film is, well… if not channeling, then at least grazing the edges of the cultural climate. Its climactic revelations reflect - indirectly - the rise of everything from incel ideology to the pervasive influence of QAnon. But Wilde never seems entirely sure what she’s trying to say here. The movie evokes the paranoia thrillers of the Cold War era, but in its own regressive fashion it’s really just a high-gloss update of The Stepford Wives. And much like Alice’s world, it’s pretty to look at, but once you peer into its illusory depths, there’s not that much beneath the surface. |
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