Best Served Desert Hot

Slowly but surely, the last few years have opened up some much-needed discussion on giving more women opportunity behind the camera. Perhaps nowhere does that matter more than horror, where females are so often mishandled, even by well-meaning male writers and directors who simply don't get it. Perhaps that's why Coralie Fargeat has received so much attention for her brutal entry in the rape-revenge genre. 

Quick Plot: Jen is spending a weekend in her married rich boyfriend Richard's isolated home, conveniently located in the middle of the desert. When his hunting buddies show up a day early, things get awkward, but one evening of sexy dancing seems to cool things down.

The next day, Richard leaves Jen alone with the lecherous Stan and cowardly Dimitri. It doesn't take the afternoon sun for Stan to rape Jen, with Dimitri choosing to let it happen while he takes a dip in the lap pool. Richard returns annoyed but pragmatic, trying to buy Jen's silence with a bank deposit and ticket to Canada. 

She's not into it. Jen tries to seize some control by threatening to call Richard's wife, prompting a heavy slap. In shock, Jen takes off barefoot, sprinting through the canyons until Richard pushes her off a cliff and stomach-first onto a sharp branch. Left for dead, Jen rouses herself up with some ingenuity involving a handy cigarette lighter. 

These dudes have no idea what they're in for. 

Written and directed by Coralie Fargeat, Revenge is a pretty straightforward thriller that lives up to its simple title. The hunted becomes the hunter, and a creative, smart, and incredibly resourceful one at that. Rape/revenge is a story we've seen told hundreds of times, but Revenge has some subtle tricks that make it worth discussing.

Yes, the first is that we have a female behind the camera, telling a story typically doused in a sleazy male gaze. I'll defend the original I Spit On Your Grave from its claims of misogyny (it's much more feminist than its very nature suggests) but yes, a woman telling this story makes a difference. 

Actress Matilda Anne Ingrid Lutz is model-beautiful, and the camera certainly loves her perfect, scantily clad body. But consider how this rape is handled: unlike many a male-directed scene, there's no closeup of a breast or lingering on Lutz's body being violated. While there are certainly cinematic rapes that fully capture the horror of the crime, there are unfortunately even more that manage to (deliberately or not) to turn such a moment into something stimulating. Fargeat's decision is to simply not show it. We get the point, and the opening of the act is enough to fuel everything that happens thereafter. 

I don't know that Revenge is a great or even overly revolutionary film, but the more I consider some of its decisions, the more I see why it's become such a big conversation piece over the last few years. In an era where even a seemingly open-minded indie-promoting studio like Blumhouse makes insanely stupid blunders about discussing women behind the camera, Revenge demonstrates how it makes such a difference. Put this exact script in a man's hands and you'd likely end up with small choices that put a very different spin on the action. 

Richard, as detestable a character as the rapist Stan, is buck naked in his final showdown with Jen. It's a very deliberate choice on Fargeat's end, and while it might seem heavy-handed to some, as a female genre-lover who's spent 37 years watching female bodies abused in ways clearly meant to turn on a specific male audience, I say bring it on.

High Points

I'm a sucker for good nature photography, so the way cinematographer Robrecht Heyvaert toys with ants and other desert insects just feels darn cool

Low Points

I can forgive Jen not tying her hair back (I don't think she packed a scrunchie in her underwear) but the idea that she'd keep her oversized dangling earrings on throughout this ordeal just feels a step too far

Lessons Learned

The rules of being lost in a forest and a desert are not the same

Nothing stops blood flow with the efficiency of Saran Wrap, though its thinness might open you up to other dangerous points

Smart women sleep in their sports bras

Rent/Bury/Buy

Revenge is currently available through Shudder, and it's certainly a high recommend. Sure, it treads no real new ground, but it's a fascinating case of how perspective matters. 

Take Me Out to the Blood Games

You must understand something before reading my thoughts on 1990’s girl-powered revenge film centered on a female baseball team: I love A League of Their Own. It’s watched every year without fail and quoted just about any time the subject of crying, swing dancing, Jon Lovitz, charm school, or penis in hats comes up. Had Labyrinth not started with the letter L, it easily would have made my cinematic alphabet. Part of this comes from the fact that it's an absolutely wonderful movie, a rare successful studio comedy containing an entire team's worth of worthy performances and sharp writing. The other part is that I love baseball.

Hence, when Netflix told me that queuing up the forgettable Steve Austin actionfest Hunt to Kill implied I Might Also Like 1990's Blood Games, I took the following description:

A team of sexy female baseball players whips the local rednecks -- and things turn violent when the men refuse to pay up for losing in this campy thriller. While team manager Midnight (Ross Hagen) tries to collect the cash, the locals attack some of the babes. Soon it's an all-out war, with the hometown hicks hunting down the women, who start fighting back after a few of their teammates wind up dead.

and imagined--quite correctly--that I had finally found the movie to complete my grand slam of baseball cinema (for the record, the other two runners are Field of Dreams and Major League).

Quick Plot: Meet the Ball Girls, a sassy team of female baseball players who cruise through small towns to challenge the locals to friendly games while Coach Midnight earns some dough betting on their victory. The money, sadly, does not go towards uniform expenses as the girls play in roomy cotton hotpants, presumably to distract their male opponents or because they're all masochists who love nothing more than a good sliding bruise.

After a whopping 17-2 win over a team of crass and grope-happy hillbillies, Midnight is stiffed by the Sam Elliot-like opposing coach but the badass Ball Girl boss takes matters into his own hands in the men’s room of a Double Deuce-like roadhouse. Too bad a few infielders get nearly raped in the process, leading to a chaotic brawl that somehow ends up with Not Sam Elliot’s son car-crushed and Midnight stabbed in the belly.

What’s a frazzled coach-less team to do? Certainly not drive their bus to a hospital or call the police. It’s far better to flee the scene of the crime with a dying man until a few intense car chases lead to a breakdown and backwoods Rambo-esque escape. See, that passing line about how Not Sam Elliot is a cheap mercenary actually has some merit: although he wouldn’t pony up a grand to pay Coach Midnight, he’s more than willing to drop $1000 for each pretty hair tie-less head his other goons can bring him after the death of his son. 

The battle rages.

At a certain point, half the girls vow to take vengeance while the pitcher and team captain Babe preaches that they must stay together. That actually means that the brunettes will continue on towards safety while the blonds are left on their own to serve up some seductive payback.

Oh, and get gang raped. Just because this is directed by a woman (maybe) doesn’t mean we’re going to skimp on the misogyny! It’s not just that there’s violence committed against women; it’s HOW it’s filmed. Take, for example, the early attempted rapes which find reason to cut to closeups of the almost-victim’s bare breasts. Sure, we’d just spent a good ten minutes ogling the same women as they lounged around the locker room, but the shots are deliberately sleazy in a meaner manner than is necessary for an exploitation film.

That doesn’t mean that Blood Games isn’t the greatest thing of all time. This is primarily evident in the final scene, where

SPOILER ALERT

The last redneck standing has Babe’s little sister (and team catcher) in a sleeper hold. Using her pitch calling skills, Kit--I mean Dottie--I mean, Little Sister In Blood Games gives Babe a sign for a fast ball up and inside...of the redneck’s FACE.

Eff. Yeah.

High Points

An early bathroom brawl scene has Not Sam Elliot fist-fighting with his pants around his ankles. For whatever reason, this made me happy

Low Points

There’s a reason All the Way May and Doris didn’t want to wear those skorts when playing ball: because no self-respecting ballplayer would EVER slide with that much exposed skin. I know, I know: the audience of Blood Games has higher priorities than sporting accuracy, but still. Have a little respect and if nothing else, LET THEM TIE THEIR ENORMOUS HAIR BACK

Lessons Learned

Maybe your team wouldn’t be losing 17-2 against an all-female squad if every player didn’t swig a beer before stepping up to the plate

If a team is named “Ball Girls,” you should have no reason whatsoever to think that they might have some skills at throwing balls at your own

After being stabbed in the gut, the best course of action is to drink water and dab the wound with a fluffy towel

The Winning Insults:

Redneck 1: You drink beer the way you piss.

Redneck 2: You piss the way you drink beer.

I’m not sure who got the better zap!, but I’m totally cool with using both.

Missed Marketing Opportunity

The final scene of Blood Games features a slow motioned montage highlighting all the women that died in the last 90 minutes. TELL ME someone didn’t take these screenshots and turn them into tradeable baseball cards?

Rent/Bury/Buy

Now streaming on Instant Watch, Blood Games is fairly wonderful dose of late ‘80s sleaze that offers something for everyone: bare breasts of tough chicks for the gents and girl powered vengeance for the ladies. Yes, it’s a dreadfully sexist movie that might prove offensive to some viewers, but those who love the stench of Cheese Wiz will find it to be a homerun. 

Still Easier Than Being Married to Alec Baldwin

Note: On Wednesday morning, I awoke to discover this wonderful fact called 'my blog had disappeared.' Some of you may have noticed clicking on my link would send you to an empty page. Thankfully, this issue has been resolved (I'm still not actually sure how, but we'll call it a Kwanza miracle) and I have a lot of thoughts about it to share later in the week. Before that, let me urge every blogger reading this to back up your work. You never know when something like this can happen, and we all work far too hard to simply lose all our posts. 


And now onto the main attraction!

Winter may be here, but that doesn’t mean the bug(gs) aren’t still watching movies! This month, my pal Zach (he of the one and only Lightning Bugg’s Lair) and I did a conveniently Watch Instant swap. Over at the Lair, Sir T.L. Bugg will be reviewing my pick, the gloriously pun-filled, Passions connected late ‘90s go-kart classic, Rumplestiltskin. Head his way for what I can’t not possibly believe will be a 5 bug review.

In return, Zach pointed me towards some classier holiday fare: 2007’s While She Was Out, a MILF revenge flick starring (and executive produced by) Oscar winner Kim Basinger.

Quick Plot: Della is an upper middle class suburban housewife, miserably married to an abusive (and oddly puffy) Craig Sheffer. Her only happiness seems to come from mothering her perfectly blond twins. On Christmas Eve, Della heads to the mall for wrapping paper (I guess wealthier neighborhoods don’t have Rite Aides?) and has the nerve to write a mildly scolding note to a rude empty car that took up two spaces in the packed parking lot.

Big mistake. After shopping, Della returns to her spot and is ambushed by a punky quartet led by the smarmy Chucky (Lucas Haas, all grown up from The Lady In White). It’s not quite clear whether they’re on drugs or just assholes, but they prove their badassary immediately by executing the rent-a-cop with a double head shot.

A chase follows, ending in the woods of a developing real estate complex. Della is armed only with her truck’s handy toolbox, while the gang pursues with a loaded gun.

That’s pretty much the basics of While She Was Out. The film is sold as a woman-gets-vengeance tale, but it’s really more about the actual pursuit as Della--a timid woman who gets spooked even by the gentlest salespeople--rotates between her survivalist instincts  and human guilt. Save for the film’s final beat, she never takes any pleasure in defending herself against her would-be assassins. She just wants to live to see her kids open their Nintendo Wii.

While She Was Out is dependent on two things: Basinger’s performance and the tension of the chases. While I’ve never been a huge fan of the former Mrs. Baldwin, she is quite wonderful as Della, selling the bored WASP act like the A-list star she sometimes is. While She Was Out was probably conceived as a character piece, something evident in early scenes meant to establish Della’s fragile state. As we watch her timidly ask a friend for a drink date or get scared off a biscotti when the Starbucks barista asks her to choose a flavor, the audience gets a very clear picture of what kind of person our soon-to-be protagonist is.

The other key to While She Was Out is first-time director Susan Montford’s ability to stage a good chase. It’s hit or miss. Though setting the majority of the action in development property provides plenty of neat visual twists, the repetition of watching Della hide behind trees or freeze in flashlight beams does grow tired. At a certain point, savvy viewers can make a pretty clear guess as to where our story ends up. I wish Montford gave us a few different types of teases.

High Points

After clowns, dolls, Carol of the Bells, clown-dolls and caterpillars, next on my list of Random Things That Freak Me Out are kids’ crayon drawings and high-voiced children singing choir music. The fact that While She Was Out’s opening credits featured both set a pretty wonderful (for me) tone for the film. 

Low Points

Though Haas has fun channeling his inner thug, there’s something just lacking in his gang. Maybe it’s their overly obvious “It’s a Small World” multi-ethnicity or general ineptness of their housewife catching, but the villains felt more like they needed detention in High School High than maximum security prison

Lessons Learned

Loyal Pilates practice will prepare you for all sorts of life survival

To keep your husband happy, comb your hair and clean up after your kids. Really woman, do you HAVE a vagina?

When in doubt, duck

Rent/Bury/Buy

Part of why I love these Bugg-sponsored swaps is because I thus far have gotten the chance to watch films I probably never ever never would have otherwise thought to queue. While She Was Out isn’t a new classic, but I enjoyed it far more than I ever would have expected. It’s a brisk and well-made little thriller that gives us an unusual and quite sympathetic heroine, someone we genuinely root for for the right reasons. It’s seasonal AND on Instant Watch, so if you’re looking for a tight and entertaining 86 minutes, I say go for it...you ungrateful little pig.