It's Getting Hot In Here

Apocalyptic thriller streaming on Netflix?

JUST TRY AND STOP ME.

Quick Plot: Somewhere in Europe where people speak in German, the world has experienced a devastating solar storm that has rendered society into a wasteland. Water and fuel are scarce, while the sun now beats down with violently hot burn-inducing rays.

And sadly, there is no leather.

Enter a car of survivors: Marie, a resourceful young woman who resembles Asia Argento's gentler twin, her younger teenage sister Leonie, and Philip, the man who has helped to keep them alive and, we gather, Marie's bed warm. At a scavenged gas station, they adds another member: Tom, a mysterious but useful straggler. Some car trouble and chaotic kidnappings later, the group is separated, with Marie finding suspicious shelter in a farm commune.

When I first started Hell, I was instantly impressed. The film immediately establishes its societal crumble with subtle visuals and implied tone. Though we never get much history from the characters, Hannah Herzsprung conveys a plucky strength that we easily root for in Marie, while her tricky relationship with a bratty kid sis and merely suitable romantic partner lends complicated tension. Early on, Philip points out that Marie needs to put Leonie "under control," a statement with tricky undertones about hierarchy that are later amplified by Marie's family values-minded new group. The screenplay never quite steps up to confront its ideas about gender politics during survival of the fittest, but the hints of discussion are intriguing on their own.

Unfortunately, Hell isn't quite up to the challenge of being a truly deep philosophical analogy, which would okay if the film didn't also hesitate on the action end. Somewhere between the panoramic father/son drama of The Road and coldly detached Time of the Wolf, Hell is the kind of film that's easier to appreciate than it is to enjoy. First-time filmmaker Tim Fehlbaum creates an incredibly strong and striking world, but with such a small scope, you expect the human element to matter more. While Herzsprung's Marie has a wonderful presence, her relationship with the bratty Leonie never resonates as deeply as it should (because, you know, the kid’s kind of a brat), while Philip's flaws are too easily brushed over. Between the created world and intriguing characters, there’s plenty of interesting potential that’s just never really tapped.

High Notes

Between the almost sepia suntones and graying vegetation, the apocalyptic environment of Hell truly does look great

Low Notes

You know, the fact that nothing is really going on

Lessons Learned

Birds always know where the water is

Jump starting a car is a lot easier than it sounds

No matter how far into the future you go, no man will ever evolve far enough to not be confounded by the complications of a net

If your prisoner keeps trying to escape, perhaps you should keep someone on watch

Rent/Bury/Buy

Obsessive post-apocalypse compulsives such as myself will certainly get something from Hell. The visual design itself makes it worth a watch, although the actual narrative leaves a whole lot to be desired. Queue it up on Instant Watch if you’re in the mood for some effective end of the world atmosphere and keep an eye out for Fehlbaum’s future (and hopefully more fully realized) efforts.

I Hear That Hell Is Suuuuuch a Drag

Let me start by offering an olive branch to any Gypsy I’ve ever wronged. I can’t imagine that the number is high, but like any imperfect human, I’ve cut off some drivers, taken a subway seat at the cost of an ambiguously aged stander, and given poor directions to strangers when in a rush.


In other words, I don’t have a lot of human sins chewing on my conscience. In other other words, if any of the victims of these seemingly minor crimes happen to have boiling Romani blood, please accept my deepest apologies in the form of your choice of home-baked muffin, cheesecake, or kitten.


As you may have guessed, I followed up Fangoria with a midnight trip to the cinema and while it doesn't revolutionize the genre, the gleeful little Drag Me To Hell is likely to make horror geeks happy and Gypsy rights’ activists offended. Sam Raimi’s critically celebrated (but so far audience-ignored) “return-to-his-roots” certainly kicks the CGI’d ass of Tobey Maguire and could teach Platinum Dunes a few lessons in how to make a horror movie. Storywise, on the other hand, it could probably learn a new trick.


Quick Plot: A young banker (Allison Lohman) is itching to climb the career ladder, but her lack of ruthlessness in loan foreclosures and skill at sandwich runs are holding her behind her oily rival. Naturally, the best way to impress the boss is to deny the mysteriously glassy eyed client Mrs. Ganush an extension, which would be fine if the old crone didn’t have that convenient ability to curse souls to an eternity of hell.

Despite being directed by a man responsible for one of the biggest blockbusters of recent years, Drag Me To Hell is a small movie, and a wise one at that. Lohman gets some help from Justin Long as her nice-guy boyfriend, but for the most part, this is a simple story about one woman crossing the wrong Gypsy. The small scope makes it a speedy and intense, if slightly forgettable 90 minutes. There are quite a few genuine scares and moments of yuck, plus some sharply humorous beats. The final product is like a Raimi brunch, a savory egg-white omelette seasoned with some R.L. Stine-ish flavor and served with a complimentary glass of embalming fluid juice (pulp content= high). The PG13 rating takes nothing away, and is almost something of a refreshment following the blatantly boob-heavy horror of recent months.


High Points
Lohman creates a vulnerable, conflicted, and overall sympathetic person as Christine...which is pretty vital, since she’s onscreen the entire film

While there have been plenty of parking garage suspense scenes, the car fight here is quite well done


Animal violence has never been so carefully, cleverly and non-offensively executed (offscreen)


Low Points
Was Lohman’s past as a “fat girl” there to flesh out (no pun intended) her character, or did Raimi cross the line in channelling Stephen King’s Thinner?

Upon first hearing, I loved the ring the title “Drag Me To Hell” had. But really, is this a command that makes any sense? Shouldn’t it be something like “Don’t Drag Me to Hell,” "I'm Going To Try Really Hard To Not Get Dragged To Hell," or, if the grammatical tense matters, “Drag Her To Hell?”


Maybe it’s just that every review or conversation I’ve heard regarding Drag Me To Hell mentions Raimi’s CGI mastery, but I wasn’t entirely sold on some of the colder computer effects

Lessons Learned
Coin collecting is dangerous. Entertain your children with some other hobby, like origami or the Sims


The best way to a WASPy mother’s heart is through harvest pie


Do I really need to say it? If Josh Whedon, Stephen King, the Wolf Man, and scores of other fiction haven’t already taught you this, do not, under any circumstance, give Gypsies a reason to hurt you. Duh.

Full Price/Sneak In/Stay Home
This is a film that deserves to be embraced, and you should consider paying for a matinee as a way to throw your figurative arms around it. By no means is this a classic on Evil Dead levels or a nightmare-inducing terrorfest like The Descent, but Drag Me to Hell is an enjoyable and genuinely jumpy horror movie that at least merits a bigger opening than a piece of camp mascot poop like Friday the 13th. If your budget is truly limited, then waiting for a DVD release won’t kill you (or damn your soul to what promises to be a very unpleasant afterlife). This is good clean (and oozing) fun that would probably make a great entry into harder-core horror for newbies (I imagine it would have gone over better at sleepovers than my 14 year old pick, Mother’s Day), yet still works as a hearty throwback for tried and true fans.

You Are Now Entrying The Beyond

Firstly, a big thank you to the fantastic Final Girl for sending out the Film Club invite to cover The Beyond. I know I’m not alone in considering her blog the best in the otherworldly realm that is horror cyberspace. Stop by her site at http://finalgirl.blogspot.com/ and check out the other Film Club goers reviewing Fulci’s messy masterpiece this week.


If Lucio Fulci were alive today, I imagine his favorite store would be Target. Like the films of the late Italian director, most of these ubiquitous shopping centers are filled with bright-but-not-quite primary colors and incredible value on just about everything you could ever want. The only thing missing for the late Godfather of Gore is the synthesized music, so aggressively present in much of his films but oddly absent from the pseudo classiness of corporate style.


The Beyond is Fulci’s glorious attempt to please just about every possible horror fan with a particular fetish by including oozingly grotesque scenes of every sort. Terrified of tarantulas? Here’s an extended cut of a fuzzy arachnid feast. Zany for zombies? See last twenty minutes. Scenes of acid dissolving human bodies? They’re on sale. Eye gougings? Take three. Children’s heads being blown apart? Do you have to ask? Incredibly enough, the only standard missing from this 1981 goretastic classic is nudity.


Quick Plot: A down-on-her-luck New Yorker named Liza inherits an abandoned hotel in Louisiana. Aside from the leaking pipes and flooded basement, the gothic mansion has a minor location problem in being built over one of the seven gateways to hell (and here I thought the American portal was a drive away in New Jersey). Despite the warnings of a blind Purgatorian refugee and the odd quadruple coincidence of four house employees dying in freak accidents, Liza continues her renovation because giving up would mean going on relief. We all have our pride, but personally, I’ll take bankruptcy and food stamps over the possibility of having my face eaten off by precariously placed sulfuric acid or hungry spiders that chew more noisily than false teeth crunching on high fiber cereal.

Heavily influenced by the Theatre of Cruelty pioneered by Antonin Artaud, Fulci’s The Beyond remains a uniquely icky, occasionally frightening, sometimes laughable but inherently lovable piece of surreal wackiness. Once you accept the unrealism of the film’s setting and stop applying human logic to the characters’ actions, the ride is kind of a blast. Yes, it’s silly that a clearly intelligent doctor with great aim would not realize that shooting a zombie in the head is the only way to kill it after blasting his way through a horde, but you know what? If he figured that out, there would be less zombies. That would make me sad. Would most rational humans start scanning the classifieds after watching every one of their co-workers die a disgustingly painful and improbable death? Probably, but the majority of us are also not dubbed actors basking in baths of latex and fluffy liquid foam. Give in or get out.


If I have one major complaint about the film, it’s the obnoxiously prevalent scoring of electro-instrumental music that Fulci uses to overstate nearly every moment of tension. This is a stylistic choice of the time and one that can be seen in his other works, but it’s hard to find true fear in any scene when it feels like the filmmaker is simply pressing the play button. It's telling that the one scene with a true jump scare (to avoid spoilers, I’ll just call it puppy love) has no music. While I still admire Fulci’s work, I can’t help but wonder how the film would feel with a different soundtrack.


High Points
The sepia-hued opening sets a nice stock footage/old-time movie-esque mood


Many scenes, such as Emily’s first appearance on a lonely road, have a quiet and understated beauty that helps to make later visions of hell so much more terrifying

I love how Joe the Plumber is almost exclusively referred to as “Joe the Plumber.” It helps that his speaking voice sounds vaguely like Elvis Presley


Low Points
Because I can never resist an opening-scene-of-Point Break reference: Why is Joe the Plumber’s resurrected corpse wearing what appears to be an oversized Richard Nixon mask?

I’m pretty much just surrendering any plot holes to the acknowledgement that The Beyond is not meant to make sense, but allow me one random pick...let’s see, I’m closing my eyes, picking out of hat...okay, how was the Little Red-Headed Girl filling her time following the death of her parents/possession of her body for several days in the natural world? Eh, I’ll move on since the payoff is so rewarding.

Lessons Learned
Hell’s guarddog tarantulas could use some oil in their joints

Carte blanche has a different definition in Italian-translated-English


If there’s one thing that defines New Yorkers, it’s not being afraid of ghosts


Satan has an awesome sense of humor; note how the blueprints for hell were written in disappearing/reappearing ink


Winning Line
“This man needs to get to a hospital.”
Whew, thank goodness the doctor arrived to tell us that the house painter who had just fallen three stories, landed square on his back, and is now bleeding profusely needs professional care.


Rent/Bury/Buy
Appropriately enough, The Beyond spent a good deal of time in movie purgatory before being rescued and restored by the likes of Quentin Tarentino and Anchor Bay. I own the 2000 release which offers a nice selection of extras, including a warm and casual commentary by stars Catriona MacColl and David Warbeck. The most recent repackaging adds a few new interviews, but as long as you have the unedited 89 minute cut, any DVD should have enough content to keep you grossed out and content. Whatever you may think of Lucio Fulci and his oeuvre, the man knew how to put on a show. Unabashedly repulsive, colorful, gooey and ridiculous, this is one of a kind to rewatch whenever your life is feeling too darn normal.

Keep Those Fingers Out of That Mouth of Madness

John Carpenter’s In the Mouth of Madness has somehow eluded both my VCR and DVD player for 14 years. I missed it in the theaters, possibly because my teenage friends were so battle scarred from being dragged to Species that they boycotted seeing horror movies with me throughout the seventh grade (plus my bringing Mothers Day to a slumber party, which seemed like a good idea at the time). Perhaps I felt that if I could only own film from 1995, it would have to be the special edition of Se7en (because I love few things more than replaying and re-acting "What's in the box???" in my perfect Brad Pitt impression) and if I could have two, I couldn’t NOT choose the Oscar snubbed Clint Howard in The Ice Cream Man. Third choice? What a no brainer: Showgirls (believe me, in the words of Nomi Malone, “It doesn’t suck!”). Hm. 1995 was apparently a far better year for cinema than anyone realized.


Back to the decent, if pastie-less horror of Carpenter, made just before what became a semi-tragic descent into Sci-Fi channel quality. In the Mouth of Madness stars Sam Neill as John Trent, an insurance investigator who proves that movie characters named Trent are always arrogant jerks. The head of a publishing company played by an unarmed Charlton Heston hires the dapper Aussie to investigate the mysterious disappearance of superstar horror novelist Sutter Cane, a man more celebrated than Stephen King and more disturbed than Jack Ketchum. In addition to vanishing before a deadline (a nice trick all writers have considered/tried), Cane is under a bit of hellfire for writing books that, when read by ‘less stable’ minds, are known to cause a mild case of axe-wielding homicide.

The search begins. Trent and Cane’s sassily named editor Linda Styles (Julie Carmen) take a road trip to Hobbs End, the kind of two worded New England town--always a sign of evil--where real estate is probably deceptively well-priced. While there, our leads visit a Russian cathedral, escape an angry gang of champion bred Dobermans, and meet a creepy but resilient bicyclist that looks oddly like John Carpenter himself (but without the signature cigarette) on the same road once driven on by Pee-Wee Herman and Large Marge. As Trent and Styles bicker over whether the eerie hamlet is a haunted piece of fiction come to life or a grand publicity stunt on a Joaquim-as-Rap-Star scale, the strangeness increases and Carpenter’s makeup department gets busy.

In the Mouth of Madness is a hard film to classify, which makes it slightly great and more than a little messy. Sure, Carpenter flexes his latex to fit squishy monsters, but the most interesting aspect is a story that raises some rather deep questions about the nature of faith. Can something or someone become God if enough people people believe in it? How much control do we give the men and women who create what we covet? Does anyone know Oprah’s favorite color?

 Unfortunately, there isn’t quite enough substance behind Carpenter’s execution to make any of the themes stick strongly enough. Most viewers will probably remember the film for Styles’ post-Excorcist, pre-Unborn spider walk instead.


High Points:
Hobbs End’s demonic children are sufficiently creepy and should have been rehired for Carpenter’s Village of the Damned over those terribly bland wig wearing tots


Yes, that’s Seinfeld’s Marble Rye victim and no, you do not want to mess with her

The relationship between Neill and Carmen doesn’t take the typical direction you’d expect, which is refreshing


Low Points:
As much as I want to use any opportunity possible to champion old school and insult CGI, the climactic demons guarding hell feel a tad too much like bottom shelf leftovers from The Thing.


It takes a little too long to actually develop audience concern for Neill’s off-putting Trent


Lessons Learned:
The best way to prove you’re sane in a mental institution is probably not to shout “I’m not insane” while headbutting the orderlies

A screwdriver is just as convenient as a backup set of car keys


Insurance investigators keep bike horns in glove compartments and are generally more annoying road companions than a family that insists on finishing 99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall

Repeat Offender:
Like many a film, every character seems to punch with the same exact force (or at least the same sound effect button)


Winning Line:
Trent: I’m not a piece of fiction.
Cane: I think, therefore you are.


Stray Observations:
The door to hell was made by the same art department that did Labyrinth’s glittery ivy clad walls

Anybody else waiting for the Mormon funded remake centering around a thinly veiled Stephanie Meyer and axe happy 15 year olds? If so, are you as frightened as I am?


Rent/Buy/Bury
Buy at a discount. Intellectually, this is one of Carpenter’s more ambitious films that I believe will grow on repeat viewings. The lines between reality and hell are skewed in a fairly unique style and the finale is simultaneously thoughtful and manic. While it’s not the mind-blowing fearfest some fans claim, this is a unique and dense ride that’s sadly becoming harder and harder to come by in modern theaters.