Showing posts with label spartacus. Show all posts
Showing posts with label spartacus. Show all posts

Tuesday, October 2, 2012

Free Healthcare At Its Not So Finest

In case you haven't noticed, it's October! That means this!


and stuff like this!


and some of these!


to go with these!

Also, horror movies! They're back! See for yourself:


Quick Plot: 1979 was six long years before the advent of DNA testing, something The Clinic tells us IMMEDIATELY so as to serve as a constant reminder of why the characters will later do some of the icky things they’ll later do. Got that?

Cut to the happy and exceedingly pretty lookalike couple Beth and Cameron, an engaged pair en route to visit Beth’s parents for Christmas. To do this, they have to drive straight across Australia and since this takes place 26 years before Wolf Creek, you can’t blame them for not knowing only very bad things happen to pretty people who dare drive through the outback.


After a Jeepers Creepers-y incident with an angry truck, the very pregnant Beth and Cameron stop for the night. Having trouble falling to sleep on Christmas Eve at a fleabag motel, Cameron takes a midnight stroll only to return to his room to…nothing.


The local yokel cops are no help, eventually arresting Cameron for getting too fired up about their lack of policing. As he struggles to find Beth, the action shifts to a large warehouse and factory farm facility where Beth wakes up in a tub of ice with a new belly scar in place of her baby.

Before long, she stumbles upon three other women who have recently been subject to unwanted C-sections. All are dressed in plain robes with Roman numeral name tags, and none have any idea how they came to end up in such a place. All they really know is that whoever took their babies also took the time to sew their wounds, although such a minor reprieve isn’t much consolation when a) your newborn is missing and b) there’s a fifth woman on the hunt for all of you.


Before I delve into spoiler territory—something I simply have to do to discuss some of the film’s strengths and weaknesses—let me say that first-time writer/director James Rabbitts is definitely one to watch…as a director.

The performances, design, and pacing of The Clinic is all top-notch. These factors go a long way in helping you forgot some of the positively misguided plotting of the script.

Spoilers will commence. Movie virgins can skip down to Rent/Bury/Buy for the big finish.


For the rest of you cinematic sluts, here goes:

In a twist that seems to call to mind Martyrs meets Battle Royale, we discover that the ladies are part of a twisted adoption agency that kidnaps highly successful pregnant women and pits them against each other in a battle to the death. Whoever survives gets the honor of having her baby adopted by a wealthy couple that then seals the deal by shooting the winning birth mother. 



Now just imagine what these parents will later do to get their kids into a good kindergarden!

As far as horror third act twists go, it’s not a terrible one. Just rather ridiculous, especially considering the ADDED twist that Beth (who was a last minute replacement in the wrong place at the wrong time) is actually a graduate of the infant program, thus explaining mysterious nightmares she’d had her whole life (because somehow, we retain everything that happened in our first week alive) and her surprising survival instincts.


I could STILL forgive The Clinic, logic be damned, if it didn’t make such a mess out of Cameron’s subplot. The late Andy Whitfield (he of Spartacus fame) is perfectly fine in the role, but Rabbitts never quite figures out how to make it work. His side story in trying to find Beth is so erratically timed, taking us away from the warehouse at key moments and ultimately frustrating our focus. I suppose the purpose is for Rabbitts to show just how far up the conspiracy (to, you know, steal rich and famous women’s babies) reaches. But it doesn’t go anywhere and when Cameron, I guess, dies in a car accident, I honestly didn’t even quite realize (or care) that his story was over.


More irksome to me was the glaring unanswered question: what about the five other newborns? One would assume all healthy infant children of well-educated or talented women would still fetch a fair price, but The Clinic never addresses that question. Worse, Beth makes a promise to one of the dying women that she will absolutely care for her baby, but during the final coda, we get nary a whisper of the fact that were other children. Sure, it’s a 90 minute movie and I can assume scenes were deleted for pacing issues, but FIVE ORPHANED NEWBORNS is a pretty sizable hole.


High Notes
As someone who can’t tell one baby from the next, I appreciate The Clinic’s assertion that all newborns pretty much look the same


Low Notes
I know life was different in the ‘70s and that Australia still entered the age of reason, but it’s sure hard to get behind a highly pregnant young woman driving cross country and not wearing her seatbelt


Lessons Learned
Cows make outstanding alarm systems

Australian men children sound an awful lot like your overconfident friend doing a lame impression of Christopher Walken

Just because you had an unwanted C-section 2 hours ago is no reason not to be able to climb fences, flee dingoes, or fight elite athletes in hand-to-hand combat


Rent/Bury/Buy
The Clinic is a frustrating film in terms of its storytelling, but as an independent horror movie coming from a first-time director, it’s not half bad. The actors all equip themselves admirably and the tension is raised with each scene. The film’s problems come from its scattered plotting, but for a 90 minute dark ride, it’s well worth a stream on Netflix. Just leave your brain at the hotel.

Friday, July 23, 2010

When You Wish Upon a Star (you die)


I was all ready to celebrate the 55th anniversary of Disneyland this past July 17th and then some hack named Guillermo del Toro came along to steal my thunder. Apparently, one of the best working genre directors is now planning on filming his own adaptation of everybody’s favorite G-rated ghost ride, The Haunted Mansion. So while millions of dollars get thrown towards a story that’s already been told (terribly), here are a few of my own suggestions for how to bring to life some of Disney’s other less cinematic attractions.




It’s a Small World


 In one of the first true bids for truly international peace, the UN organizes the world’s largest toy drive, requesting every nation to donate a collection of toys that best represents its people. It’s a beautiful idea...until the poor security guards manning the midnight deliveries unearths a devastating secret revealing each doll to be possessed by the spirit of wronged dead patriots (think Che Guevara, Oliver Cromwell, Davy Crocket, William Wallace et al) and the entire plan is a simple attempt to bring about universal chaos. It’s up to a nearly retired night watchman Hank (John Goodman) and his fresh-faced apprentice Timmy (Jay Baruchel or your own favorite skinny goodball du jour) to save the world, one verse at a time.
Dream Director: Having proved his worth with 1987’s Dolls, I can’t think of a worthier man than Stuart Gordon.


Tagline: Getting the song out of your head will be the least of your problems...especially when you no longer have a head.

The Enchanted Tiki Room


A snob-filled yacht gets thrown off course while sailing through the Pacific, washing up on an eden-like isle blossoming with tropical greenery. After a playful montage wherein the leads bask in the sun and squeeze out some mango juice, the brattiest of the well-tanned millionaires (we’ll say John Hannah) spots a rainbow-hued bird and in a misguided attempt to impress his friend’s wife/hopeful mistress (Madonna, attempting to redeem herself for Swept Away), he hurls a coconut shell at its beak and kills one of island’s enchanted creatures. Everyone laughs at the prospect of eating poultry with their banana leaves, but the fun stops when its brethren flies home to seek vengeance. This being a Disney movie, the villainous vultures (or toucans most likely) spout G-rated one-liners with the voices of such esteemed artists as Mel Gibson, Robin Williams, and Wanda Sykes, all while shredding the faces off of a few bad people eventually waiting to be weeded out for one to learn a valuable lesson.
Dream Director: Joe Dante, for his established record balancing the fine line between monster massacres and good old fashioned family fun.


Tagline: The early bird gets your soul.

The Hall of Presidents


Plain and simple: America needs more historical horror. We’re a country still stained by slavery, civil war, genocide of native population and corruption. Let’s start remembering with a simple tale about a school trip gone terribly, terribly wrong when a busload of unruly students awaken the spirits of every former head of state. They’re not necessarily interested in prosecuting the kids, but when a juvenile delinquent gets in between the slave-holding George Washington (Ian McKellan) and a suddenly reinvigorated Honest Abe (the guy that played Lincoln in Bill & Ted’s Excellent Adventure and a bunch of commercials featuring a talking squirrel), collateral damage is inevitable. Now, a detention-bound gang of teens must choose sides between Republicans and Democrats, abolitionists and Jim Crow supporters, Manifest Destiny and the Monroe Doctorine. Think epic one-on-one fight scenes by rickety slightly-past middle aged white men occasionally aided by young boys and girls choosing sides and political parties. 
Dream Director: Wouldn’t you love to see the screwball spirit of unleashed Sam Raimi slightly classed up by the prestige of American history?
Tagline: You won’t fall asleep in this history lesson.

Country Bear Jamboree


If Del Toro can rejuvenate something Eddie Murphy soiled, then surely there’s a filmmaker of note that can hone in on the true terror of animatronic carnivores wielding banjos. A story could be as simple as Goldilocks (a freshly paroled Lindsay Lohan dusting off her Disney princess crown with a hint of I Know Who Killed Me trashiness) stumbling upon what seems like a friendly family of musically gifted bears. We’ll throw a House of the Devil twist that reveals the bears’ talents to be harnessed over centuries of mating with unlucky humans subsequently sacrificed. It’s almost as scary as the 2002 film.
Dream Director: Since the normally go-to director of fantastical creatures of the night will be busy with 3D ghosts, let’s watch David Cronenberg delve back into his Broodish body horror with man-bears, man-bear spawn, and all the mishaps in between.


Tagline: Didn’t mother tell you not to play with bears?

The Mad Tea Party


Honestly, I don’t really know how one would make a film out of what I equate to 2 minutes of pure torture in a pastel purgatory, but this current climate for near-snuff Serbian Films certainly shows the audience is there. 
Director: Gaspar Noe. The man and his spinning camera may have been born for this chance.


Tagline: You should have ordered coffee.

Have a story for Space Mountain? A plot to resurrect Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride? Share your thoughts and keep your hands and feet inside the comment box at all times.