Tuesday, June 14, 2011

In Honor of Flag Day, Let's Do This:


So here’s the thing: I can’t really discuss today’s feature, 2010’s Red White & Blue without revealing a major plot point that emerges nearly one hour in. If you haven’t seen the film--and I do recommend it, providing you ‘enjoy’ similarly mean and complex horror along the lines of Jack Ketchum--then I would urge you to admire this photo of an adorable puppy carrying an American flag--




And now leave.


All others, here goes:


Quick Plot: Erica (a hauntingly straightforward Amanda Fuller) works menial manual labor jobs during the day while prowling cheap bars when the sun goes down. With white cowgirl boots riding high, the pretty enough redhead beds a man (or three) each night, never repeating herself or lingering for a morning spooning. She mysteriously draws the line (and closes her legs) at Nate, a war veteran and former interrogator now slumming away at a hardware store and boarding house.


Nate is played by British actor Noah Taylor, something you might not believe until IMDB tells you so. With a wiry black beard and loaded Texas drawl, the actor formerly known (to me) as Charlie Bucket’s dad or the Exposition Deliverer in Vanilla Sky disappears into the role of a self-aware sociopath with a mushy soft spot for the cold Erica.




A hesitant courtship follows, cutting off just at a point where it seems our mismatched would-be lovers might get serious. The film switches to the point-of-view of Frankie (The Lost’s Marc Senter), an almost maybe kinda successful rocker balancing a busboy job with his band’s upcoming tour and mother’s cancer treatment. The switch is odd, but not unreasonable; we should remember Frankie as one of the three men who picked up Erica in the opening scene.




In case you didn’t read my intro or decided to take a gamble (much like a few key characters in Red White & Blue), I’m about to get spoilery. Walk away kids. Walk. A. Way.




Frankie gets some bad news in the form of an HIV positive diagnosis, a double whammy since he’s been donating blood to his mother. He concludes--and we an the audience can *almost* be sure--that his one night of unprotected sex with Erica is to blame. Upon dragging her to his basement, it’s more or less confirmed. Erica was raped as a young girl and has essentially spent her life apathetically spreading her disease to any male irresponsible enough to blow his chances on a few hours of condomless sex with a stranger.




What to make of that? What Erica is doing is akin to murder, something made all the more powerful when we see the snowball effects that poisons Frankie’s innocent mother (wonderfully played by Sally Jackson). At the same time, Frankie made his own choice, playing Russian Roulette with his penis. It’s a risk people are taking every day.


Oh but the film doesn’t end there. Come now, this has been dubbed one of the more disturbing films of the year for very different reasons than moral quandaries. Frankie holds onto Erica for a night, creepily seducing her and making a doomed marriage proposal. It does not end well.


Once Nate discovers Erica’s fate, things get...bad. Families are slaughtered. New uses for deadly duct tape are discovered. Stab wounds juiced. It’s ugly. It’s senseless. It’s a nihilistic roller coaster that ends with pure hell.




Hugging your pound puppy yet? Feel like you learned anything about humanity, America, sexual responsibility or vengeance? I can’t say that I have. Part of me wants to roll my eyes at Red White & Blue’s pretentiousness, balk at its self-important title and passive aggressive attempt at linking everything from the Iraq War to revenge-fueled beheadings.




Red White & Blue IS pretentious, but it’s also quite fascinating as both a film and moral question asker. The three lead actors are excellent, giving vanity-free and layered performances that don’t let their characters off the hook. Though the score occasionally oversteps its place, it’s generally well-done with a sound entirely of its own. I don’t quite know how Red White & Blue was supposed to make me feel, but during its running time, I didn’t want to think about anything else and now that it’s over, it’s still there. While that's not necessarily the sign of an enjoyable film, it does make it worth watching for a certain type of viewer.


High Points
Credit must also go to the look of the film, in particular, its actual characters. Fuller is an attractive young actress, but the film is smart enough to let her look natural, patchy skin and all. It’s refreshing to believe our characters as real people, something too many films are too terrified to try




Low Points
As I said, the soundtrack does become a tad obtrusive at times


Lessons Learned
Never send a diner burger back to a Texas kitchen


When bound to a chair with your family’s life hanging in your voice, listen to the crazed war veteran asking you questions and for goodness sake, answer them 




Condoms people. Condoms.


Rent/Bury/Buy
Red White & Blue is currently streaming on Neflix and is certainly worth a thoughtful viewing, providing you enjoy complicated and brutal horror that tries to/might be socially important. I’m still not entirely sure where I fall, but I’m glad I watched the film and look forward to eventually revisiting it with a director commentary track. It does make me curious to seek out filmmaker Simon Rumley’s other work, including the also-Instant Watch The Living and the Dead. I like his ambition and directorial guts.


Now let's forget our problems with another helping of flag puppies:





Sunday, June 12, 2011

Morty the Mannequin, On the Move!


Even the most fervent devil’s advocate won’t take up the defense when I say that the 1990s were one of the worst decades for the horror genre. Theatrical releases were (for the most part) uninspired and unmemorable, while direct-to-VHS films generally took that route with good reason. Movie maniacs of a certain age bracket have mediocre memories of prowling the video store aisles for something--ANYTHING--that offered even the mildest of entertainment.
For me, one such attempt was The Fear 2, which sucked me in one Halloween night for its cover art involving wood people and clowns. Like so many Blockbuster rentals, it was a disappointment but that didn’t seem any reason whatsoever to not track down (some 12 years later) its source material, 1995’s The Fear.
Quick Plot: Richard, a grad school psychology major, has recurring nightmares of running through the woods into a pair of Troggish/Tusken Raider-esque villains digging a grave while chanting “diametric” in ominous tones. His advisor urges him to investigate these dreams, but Richard would much rather pitch his final project of dragging pals to a cabin and making them face their own phobias in the name of science. 
Silly Richard. Don’t you realize your teacher is played by none other than Wes Craven (!) and is therefore the most intelligent person associated with your film, the one directed by a man whose most notable imdb credit is “Locations Liaison” for Kindergarden Cop?”

Kids never learn, so Richard and a gaggle of pals head out to Evil Dead territory where they immediately discover Richard’s wacky Uncle Peter, his blonde trophy girlfriend, and most notably, Morty, a life-sized wooden doll that used to be Richard’s childhood friend.

Yes folks, this is a horror movie wherein its monstrous villain is named...Morty.
No offense to any readers named Morty (I should've learned my lesson with the name 'Troy' following an unwarranted rant on GleeKast). I’m just convinced it’s a title reserved for middle-aged butchers or husbands who pull their backs cleaning out the gutters.

It doesn’t take long--actually, it really does--for Morty to animate, possessing some of the gang and killing the rest as Richard tries to recall a childhood memory and his girlfriend attempts to figure out who amongst the group is the famed Campus Rapist. Oh, and Richard’s tiny dreadlocked friend--get this--Troy (who bares an incredibly strange but definite resemblance to The Manitou) is trying to make out with his adoptive big sister who is all for it though she kind of maybe reveals that she’s actually sorta his mother.

I’m serious.
On one hand, I appreciate the effort that clearly went into The Fear. It would have been easy to strip each victim down to his or her defining characteristic without saddling everyone with a soap operatic backstory. We’re used to that in our Wes Craven ripoffs. But maybe the mere presence of the man inspired only-time director Vincent Robert to aim for the stars.
Unfortunately for The Fear, its closest thing to a star is Monique Mannen whose best credit is Boring Girl/Dancer in the classic Eddie Murphy hit, Coming to America.

What is this, velvet?
It’s not the worst mid-90s straight-to-video horror you can find on an oddly overdesigned barebones DVD. So it does have that going for it...
High Points
The score for The Fear is actually quite good, with nice carnival undertones creating a strong mood
Any film that references the hilariously un-PC Danish myth of Santa’s evil henchmen Black Peter instantly gets my horrified wink
Low Points
Ah, cheap and dirty DVD releases. How nice it would have been to see what happens in the film once in a while

Lessons Learned
Psychology is a spectator sport
The quest for wholeness is not all it’s cracked up to be. Who knew?!
If going on a coed camping trip with a bunch of college students, expect that every attached male will be aggressively hitting on every attached female
Rent/Bury/Buy
The Fear is not easy to find on DVD (official ‘Long Wait’ on Netflix) so unless you just really enjoy a challenge, I wouldn’t advise investing your energy into seeking it out. It’s not overly awful compared to some of its timely rivals, but eh. Should it fall into your lap, you might enjoy the random oedipal themes and silly woodman killings (which mostly equate to closeups of him cut with closeups of carousel horses). The choice is yours.

Thursday, June 9, 2011

A Rocking Getaway


My expertise on Jamaican reggae music is akin to Sarah Palin’s understanding of the American history or Chris Klein’s skills with not looking like an idiot. So naturally, I’m the most qualified person ever to discuss 1978 Rockers.
What prompted me to watch a film so far out of my comfort zone? None other than T.L. Bugg, aka Zach, aka the keeper of The Lightning Bug’s Lair. It’s time for our monthly movie swap and since summer is a’comin, we both went with a seasonal hot weather treat. I ordered Zach to queue up the far-better-than-it-looked-and-was-misadvertised-as-being little gem, A Perfect Getaway, a film that featured one of my favorite performances of the year (and yes, Timothy Olyphant gets brownie points for handsomeness but is an absolute joy in that film). Be sure to head Zach’s way for his review.

Now, let’s get dreaded!
Quick Plot: Horsemouth is a chillin’ drummer making money where he can, be that selling records to local shops or playing in a band at a ritzy hotel. His days get a little more motivated after his new motorbike is stolen, prompting an Operation Robin Hood to retrieve it from some greedy gangsters’ warehouse.

I’d love to give more detail on the storyline of Rockers, but that’s...pretty...much...it. Much like Wild Style, Rockers is far more about celebrating Jamaican culture than telling any sort of narrative. Sure, there’s the throughline of Horsemouth’s business, Pee-Wee-like quest to save his rather Pee-Wee-like bike, risque flirtation with a rich man’s pretty daughter and brazen attempt to play Santa Claus to his locals. But this action happens randomly in between musical breaks, all of which mosey along with a playful reggae beat.

Rockers isn’t a film I’d normally think to watch, but its energy is pretty darn likable. Sure, nothing really happens. At all. The main character shamelessly flirts with a pretty young thang while ignoring his (real-life) wife and kids, but the dude CAN drum. 

High Points
A montage that demonstrates how a record is manufactured is weirdly entrancing, much like that brilliant crayon factory sketch on Sesame Street

Low Points
You know, the whole nothing-really-happening-at-all thing does have some negative effects
Lessons Learned
I must find ways to incorporate the phrase ‘Dread Out’ far more often in my daily life

White people can’t and really shouldn’t dance
It is possible to look good in a green lame three-piece suit. It’s possible, but not easy for mere mortals. Not easy at all...
Rent/Bury/Buy
The tensest moment of Rockers involves Horsemouth’s pal, Dirty Harry taking a DJ booth hostage and playing his own tunes. That says a lot about Rockers, a film that’s the epitome of style over substance and that style being reggae, reggae, and more reggae. It’s interesting on those lines as something truly different, and as a breezy Netflix stream, it can certainly entertain you. Don’t expect anything to actually happen, but pop it on for a lazy brains-off day.

As always, thanks to Zach for the recommendation. Rev up your motorbike and putter on over the The Lightning Bug's Lair for his Olyphantful thoughts on A Perfect Getaway!

Wednesday, June 8, 2011

June Is Busting Out All Over Your Ovaries (but not quite that--well, um...)

New stuff!


1. A new month means a new issue of Rogue Cinema, so hop on your hoverboard and skate over here for, among other things, my review of the romantic drama Lovers In a Dangerous Time and an interview with Skew director Seve Schelenz. Stick around for tons of more content, with reviews of new indie releases and discussions with more film folks, including Hobo With a Shotgun director Jason Eisner.




B. Skip that venti frappaccino today and give your $7 to a far more noble cause: Paracinema! Yes, this is an ACTUAL PRINT MAGAZINE filled with original content on all the films you love or love but don't know about yet. Issue #12 features some typically great stuff, including an article on Kiyoshi Kurosawa bu VCinema's Josh Samford, some nostalgia on Explorers from Baby Eater Matt House, an interview with genre luminary (and Leprechaun 3 director!) Brian Trenchard-Smith, and original artwork you won't want to dog-ear. Go GIT it!



III. Need some sweet lady voices in your life? Prefer to hear those sirens ramble on about paint huffing, incest, and unusual genital designs? Then head to iTunes or podomatic for the newest episode of Girls On Film Radio. Myself and a few lovelier ladies tackle Alexander Payne's first film, Citizen Ruth (drink every time we say 'abortion'!) and a Japanese Criterion classic from 1963 called The Insect Woman. Shockingly enough, we somehow avoided bra talk this week, although I like to think that's made up for with adorable dog snoring.




Four. Those of you with a weakness for showtunes, pop music, or sweater vests probably already listen to GleeKast, the podcast myself and knitting pro extraordinaire Erica host on everybody's favorite/most hated Fox musical. Even so, allow me to remind you that our last 'official' episode is now available for download. We're taking a mini-hiatus to breathe and dedazzle, but we'll be back this summer with more bonus content on all things ridiculousness. 


Bonus points if you catch/agree with my Troll reference.

Sunday, June 5, 2011

Ouch! Those Paintball Thingies Really Kill

To call me a paintball enthusiast would be false. I’m a paintball dreamer.
It just looks SO fun. Play dress up and act tough while inflicting minor pain on pals or coworkers? Sign me up for the preferred members program!
In truth, I’ve played paintball once and while I did end up rainbow-colored and bruised, I also emerged with the sneaking suspicion that I missed my life’s calling as a competitive non-lethal sniper.
Oh, but this post isn’t about me and my addiction to competition (the nickname ‘Scattegories Nazi’ has a most definite source). Nope. Today’s feature is a simply named Instant Watch action thriller titled--you guessed it--Paintball.
Load your pellets.

Quick Plot: Somewhere in Cyrillic Europe, an expensive paintball program is drawing in the bored and wealthy international populace. An assorted team awakens with green armbands over their camouflage jumpsuits, each given a job like recon or scout. They’re eager and (mostly) athletic, but it doesn’t take ten minutes for real bullets to start heading their way. Turns out, someone with night vision is on the hunt and our inexperienced Green Team members start dropping like the flies I swat daily now that it’s almost summer in the Bronx.

On one level, Paintball is pretty much exactly what you’re expecting from a movie called ‘Paintball’ streaming on Netflix. The characters are fairly disposable and hard to decipher under splattered helmets. The body count dwindles in the order you more or less expect. Bad guys get jerky and good girls summon strength.

That being said, Paintball is way better than it had to be. Though we don’t really know our characters, we believe and like them well enough to not yawn at their plight. The camerawork is clearly aiming to put you in that painty forest, pulling us in the shooters/victims’ shoes with surprisingly effective point of view shots.
I didn’t fall in love with Paintball, but I was more than pleasantly entertained by what actually came off as a good movie, one made with far more skill than its premise required. I’ll keep my eye on this Daniel Benmayor director chap. He knows what he’s doing.
High Points
I don’t want to spoil too much, but the execution of the kills is actually quite neat, giving us an alternative view that is somehow more disturbing in muting some of the graphics
Low Points
Though I didn’t necessarily have a problem with the last man/woman standing, I also never really felt much suspense leading up to his/her final run. You can sense immediately--for no reason other than genre convention--that THIS will be your final girl/boy, and because I’m me, I was disappointed by its unnecessary (and unjustified) obviousness.
Lessons Learned
Choosing to live or not to live just depends on you...and those orchestrating a lethal and secluded game of amateur paintball

Be careful where you point pointy things
Into every paintball team, an asshole must emerge
Rent/Bury/Buy
As a Netflix Instant Watch, I easily recommend Paintball for a day you want to pass with good action. Those sad souls without an American account should keep their eyes out for a cheap rental or bargain bin buy. It’s not the greatest thing since Gangland, but Paintball is plain and simple, a fun(ly) serious little bite of genre skill.

Thursday, June 2, 2011

Blob It


Even the most loyal genre fan has her film holes. Who amongst us hasn't had to duck for cover when admitting those classics we haven't seen, only to finally seek them out and end up befuddled with the results. We sometimes find that the very genre-defining moments have since been defined with more skill, leaving us appreciating, if not necessarily enjoying the originals.
My love of 1988's underloved The Blob knows no bounds. I think it's a perfect horror film, filled with strong likable characters, an affectionate sense of place, and a kickass monster that remains terrifying 20+ years of technology later. 

(C'mon: TWO mullets in one movie? That can't be done with CGI)
And now allow me to confess: until a few days ago, I had never seen its source material. I had no real interest in doing so. My illicit relationship with Mystery Science Theater 3000 has educated me immensely on '50s monster movies and while I know there are true gems buried in the nuclear dust (Them! cannot be praised highly enough), I also rarely approach them expecting my life to be changed. 
But there’s only so long a gal can go before digging into the archives...
Quick Plot: In a friendly small town--one so good-natured that even the local ruffians agree they've been driving too fast lately--the world's second oldest teenager Steve (McQueen) puts the moves on Janey in his hotrod before almost hitting an old man that has just been partially blobbed before 'partially blobbed' became the universal phrase I hope it one day is. The sole town doctor sends Steve and Janey to Officer Dave while he gets fully blobbed but not too surprisingly, nobody with a badge wants to believe the troublemaking teens. 

As someone born in 1982, my knowledge of the '50s is defined by a combination of my parents' nostalgia and cinematic education. Though there are no poodle skirts or milkshakes to be found in The Blob, the film does encompass just about every other aspect I assumed was present in daily '50s life: dang kids, fast cars, movie house dates and blobs. My older readers can tell me if I'm wrong (which is highly unlikely because c'mon...blobs). 
There is no hesitation on my part to say that The Blob is a fun film. The actual monster is juicy and neat, something that surprisingly still works today. Seeing a town unite remains adorable, and Burt Bacharach’s hit theme song is so amazing even my CAT was entranced by the opening credits.


I can’t say I was ever actually frightened for the gee whiz youngins or concerned townsfolk, but I smiled throughout like someone who had just slurped down a delicious bowl of strawberry jell-o.
High Points
Though I can’t really say The Blob holds up as a frightening film, the effects remain effective (badom bom!) and an early car mechanic death is filled with gooey suspense

Low Points
I don't mean to kick the former 6 year old Kieth (that's how imdb spells it) Almoney in his now sensible 59 year old shoes, but I think his first big scene with big sis Janey might contain some of the worst acting ever attempting by a child performer

Lessons Learned
Just because some kid smacks into your wife on the turnpike doesn't make it a crime to be 17 years old. (On a side note, that’s a dark little character backstory that’s probably thankfully not explored eh?)
Much to the chagrin of eager cleaning ladies, one cannot just dust around fingerprints at a crime scene
Even in all-American towns, you can count on school principals to be stuffy and slightly British

The best way to deal with a global threat is to airdrop it in Antarctica. It's still cold there, right?
Stray Observations
As someone who has watched Killer Klowns From Outer Space more times than Costas Mandylor has done bicep curls, I was shocked to realize just how much that 1986 ball of cotton candy was inspired by The Blob. A few similarities:
-Officer Dave and his dubious fellow cops


-opening the film on a kissing couple’s quest to find the landing of a shooting star


-an ill-fated old farmer and his dog



-and dialogue as close as “He says Doc Hallen is dead. I’ve got to check it out!” in comparison to “They say some people are dead. Let’s hear them out!”
Rent/Bury/Buy
Horror fans owe it to themselves to dive into the gelatinous goop that is The Blob. It’s a piece of film history that represents a very specific era in cinema and while it probably won’t scare you with the same power as Chuck Russell’s 1988 remake, it’s easily entertaining in an aw shucks kind of way. The Criterion release features oodles of extras well worth the dip. Just don’t blame me when you find your head bopping along to theme song...for the rest of your life.