Can You Tell Me How to Vanish On Boring Street?

You know when you REALLY want a movie to be great? The director excites you, the premise is up your alley, and the fact that it’s streaming on Netflix just seems like kismet. At a certain point, it’s like the film has to work to NOT be exactly what you want.

Vanishing on 7th Street works awfully hard.

Awfully.

Quick Plot: It’s a typical day in Detroit when the city pulls a Left Behind style blackout that leaves nothing but a lot of clothing and a few stray survivors hanging out in darkness, where only the beam of flashlights will stave off a herd of shadowy figures. Among the living are Paul (John Lequizamo), a film projectionist with a history hobby, Rosemary (Thandie Newton), a physical therapist looking for her baby (and probably named Rosemary for the sole reason of letting reviewers write “Rosemary’s baby”), James (Jacob Latimore), a 12-year-old waiting for his bartender mom, and the offensively named Luke (Hayden “I Hate Sand” Christensen), a field reporter.

The motley crew holds up in a local tavern called Sonny’s (ha ha) fully lit by a backup generator. As the lights begin to dim and their power supply starts to die, Luke convinces the rest to make a break for it by jump starting a nearby truck. 

Jump starting nearby trucks is so very easy on camera.

To go further into the plot might lead to spoilage, except--

SPOILER ALERT--

There’s nothing to spoil because we never ACTUALLY find out anything about anything...anything...about...anything.

Why did most humans vanish? Why weren’t French poodles and squirrels taken? Is there somewhere these things GO? Why DID that Chevy still run, and was it JUST because it was a Chevy? Why was Paul taken into the ether and spit back a few days later? How in The Happening does THAT make sense? Is it aliens? God? Demons? Pulse-ish shadows from another dimension? Hot dogs? Betty Buckley?

GIVE ME SOMETHING!

Sigh. Not every film needs to give us every answer. Is The Shining about ghosts, alcoholism, or Native American genocide? It doesn’t matter if the film is good enough to justify the lack of answers.

Vanishing on 7th Street, however, is not. Anderson creates some excellent spookiness right from the outset, including one of the most effective jump scares I’ve seen in some time within its first ten minutes. The mystery is haunting enough to keep us on edge, but when NOTHING stands behind it, how can an audience possibly be expected to stay on board? Anthony Jaswinski’s script gives us dull squabbling and zero answers, and even though some of the performances do what they can to sell it--okay, really just Lequizamo and the young Latimore, as Newton comes off shrill and Anakin is still Anakin--the movie ultimately feels like a stretched out short story that never had a good ending to begin with.

High Points

It’s probably impossible for a lifelong Star Wars fan to ever get behind Hayden Christensen again, but young actor Jacob Latimore brings a fantastic presence to his role as James. If only he had played Anakin Skywalker...

Fellow history nerds rejoice! Anybody else always intrigued by the mystery of the Roanoke settlement’s disappearance? Let’s see a better film about that

Low Points

Considering Brad Anderson’s past work, I was weirdly disappointed with some of the overbearing soundtrack work in Vanishing on 7th Street. While the jukebox choices had a hauntingly retro feel, some of the scoring was just too much and broke the eerie subtlety of the film’s major mysteries

We learn quite early on that once you’re covered in darkness, you’ll be swooped away (even though WE NEVER KNOW WHERE TO). So how frustrating is it that at a key moment, two of our main characters are being closed in upon by the shadows only to...um, escape and keep freaking out. Way to break the rules and therefore lessen the tension of anything that comes after

Lessons Learned

Never underestimate the importance of glow sticks. Never.

Jukeboxes use an awful lot of power

Try to avoid going to the theaters to see Adam Sandler movies because really, is THAT where you want to be during the rapture?

Rent/Bury/Buy

I’m trying to avoid using the word ‘frustrating’ anymore in this review. It’s not particularly a google keyword I’m looking to catch, but holy Kirk Cameron can I not think of a better adjective to describe Vanishing on 7th Street. The potential is there, and yet the insane coyness of the script seems to dare its audience to give up. At the same time, Brad Anderson continues to show plenty of strength when it comes to building tension, and hey, some of us just love a good rapture. I’m being quite negative on the film because GRRRRR does it make me say GRRRRR, but the premise itself might still be enough to at least give it an Instant Watch try if you like these kinds of things. Just prepare to be ...

(Pause to check thesaurus)

Stymied! Yeah, that’s it...

Forest of (Boredom to) Death

We’ve all seen M. Night Shamalaongadong’s The Happening. We’ve all learned the wonders of SCIENCE! and the horror of DYING BEES! and non-importance of sharing TEERAMEESUE! and, perhaps most importantly, the absolute wonders of something called a HOT DOG. If The Happening has done anything of note in the 21st century, that something is make it far easier for any other film to feature evil flora and come off with at least one compliment:

It’s better than The Happening.

Marky Mark almost always agrees with that statement

Quick Plot: An unusual forest is becoming home to a gaggle of suicides and a vicious rape-murder. When an investigating detective dies of a heart attack under the trees, a flighty reporter named May launches an exploitive news series on the forest’s mystical hauntings, trying her darnest to rein in some help from her botanist boyfriend Shu-Hoi, an obsessive man who’d rather carry out experiments in his greenhouse. A dead-serious female detective named Ha (stop it, it’s not funny) jumps on the case with some help from Shu-Hoi, dragging the sleazy suspected rapist into the woods with a gang of reporters where the trees somehow drag out a hilarious, condom-eating confession.

That’s about the first hour of Forest of Death, though it feels akin to three weeks and half a Monday. This is a slowwwwwww film. And not an overly interesting one, despite the promise of evil forestry, ghosts, rape, and condom snacks. 

The idea of a botanist hero is fun. But Shu-Hoi is not. He’s a handsome enough scientist, but saddle the poor nerd with a shrewish Gale Weathers-lite girlfriend and it’s hard to really like him. As Detective Ha, Shu Qi is easily the most interesting character onscreen, but it’s a shame that the film feels the need to hint at a relationship that’s never actually there between her and Shu-Hoi. It’s like Forest of Death made a bold decision to feature a strong female center, then remembered she was attractive and hence warranted a tepid love triangle. It’s somewhat insulting.

There’s also the matters of storytelling and pacing, something Forest of Death seems to make up as it goes along. Once the main crime is resolved (rather hilariously, might I add), the film just kind of limps along for another half hour. It’s as if you entered a wave pool where the waves were REALLY rough, then it was time to turn it off and you hung out, eventually realizing the waves would never come back on because the person that pushes the wave button is taking a really long lunch. So you leave. And the credits roll. And Emily is left feeling very unhappy.

High Points

I like the idea of these three stories--Ha’s investigation, May’s sensationalist reporting and Shu-Hoi’s plant talking--and how they could interweave. It’s certainly not a bad starting point for a film...

Low Points

...except Forest of Death never does anything interesting at all with them

Lessons Learned

Hong Kong journalists are, on average, 17 years old

Post-coital secret sharing only works when you or your partner enjoy the coitus

Lab plants dig a good funky beat

Rent/Bury/Buy

Meh. I watched Forest of Death because it was expiring on Instant Watch and now that it’s gone, good riddance. This isn’t an awful or incompetent movie, but I personally kind of sorta really did hate it. Slow, plodding, aimless, and somehow unoriginal despite being about lie detecting plants. Hardcore Asian horror enthusiasts might still appreciate some of its aspects, but I’d much rather pop in Little Shop of Horrors and recall my childhood crush on Rick Moranis than sit through this one again. 

Then again, I kind of ALWAYS want to watch Little Shop of Horrors and moon over Rick Moranis’ adorableness, so perhaps that’s an unfair comparison. Here’s a better one: I’d rather watch William Friedken stumble all over a tree lover-themed horror film in The Guardian than rewatch Forest of Death. 

Heck, I’d rather watch William Friedken eat a condom than rewatch this movie. I’d rather--

I’ll stop before I say something illegal. We’ll leave the last word to Oscar nominee Marky Mark:

I Said Brrrrr! It's Cold In Here. There Must Be Some Chiller Theatre In the Atmosphere

No, I shouldn't even try a fake cheer. Just know that this past weekend was the biannual Chiller Theatre Convention in New Jersey so naturally, I put on my best pair of sneakers to troll crowded vendor floors and tiptoe around celebrities I wanted to ogle without paying.


This installment was by far one of my favorite experiences, and only part of that involved the toasted coconut pancakes eaten twenty minutes before entering the elegant halls of the Parsippany Hilton. Highlights, plain and simple:

1. Telling Ruggero Deodato that I loved The Barbarians, and hearing his enthusiastic response that the film is finally going to be available on DVD in the near future. Also, I think I referred to Cannibal Holocaust as "beautiful." Thankfully, he did not respond by offering me turtle meat.

2. Telling his table buddy Sergio Martino that I loved Hands of Steel  (I'm sure he gets that ALL the time) and finding out that his next film is supposed to shoot somewhere in Pennsylvania. For some reason, that disturbed me.

3. Buying these:

One of which stars a wrestler from G.L.O.W. (Gorgeous Ladies of Wrestling, for those uninformed), one of which is post-apocalyptic and involves rollerskating, and finally, a film I can't believe I didn't know existed, The Refrigerator, something I'm sure will put Death Bed: The Bed That Eats to the napping hall of shame.


4. Having a strange interaction with Lou Ferrigno (at the urging of Dear Friends Erica and Lisa) where we got a Polaroid photo (taken by a stranger just wandering the room) with the Hulk then spent about 20 minutes trying to decipher what he actually signed. Theories include "Lou the Hulk," "Love the Hulk," "Lou something Hulk," and "Lou Diamond Philips." Either way, I got to tell him that I loved his work in ...And God Spoke, and he smiled.

5. The highlight, by far:

Now obviously, Killer Klowns From Outer Space is in the treasure chest here at the Doll's House so the idea of meeting Grant Cramer (aka Mike Tobacco) evoked all sorts of inner swoons. What really creamed my pie, however, was how gosh darn nice a dude he was. This was apparently Mr. Cramer's first convention outing, and he seemed to be having an enjoyable time, or at least he tolerated my gushing, theorizing, and explanation of why Killer Klowns and The Happening should never share the same sentence. Best of all, my head nearly exploded when I learned that the Chiodo Brothers and Mr. Cramer have been developing a--hold your breath--SEQUEL to what is, quite simply, the definitive cult film of my generation. It seems a ways off but something that actually may indeed hopefully maybe yes indeed I hope I said I hope will get made someday. Sadly, it's not based on my idea for Klowns In Space , but hey, after 22 and counting years, I'll take anything.

So that was my lovely Sunday, capped by the debut recording of a lil cupcake called the gleeKast . Looking forward, I now order you to mark your calendars for the August 20-22, when Monster Mania mashes into Cherry Hill, New Jersey, and I attempt to befriend special guest Tim Curry via my own reenactment of the entire plot of Clue.

Flower Power

As modern hippies join hands and hold organic bake sales to benefit Earth Day, we horror fans find our own ways of honoring this third planet from the sun most of us call home. Personally, I can't think of a better method than to comb through cinema history for a few films high on environmentally inspired dangers. I don't know about you, but that sounds far more fun than making a compost pile or, you know, trying to save a world that seems so hellbent on killing us.

Terrifying Trees!

While there has yet to be an official Arbor Day entry into the slasher school of holiday-themed horror, trees do get their due, and I’m not just talking about Elm Street (ba dom bump! I'll stop now). William Friedken's abysmal 1990 The Guardian bests The Hand That Rocks the Cradle for presenting the wealthy suburbs’ most viscous nanny (and adds the whole “druid cult that believes in sacrificing babies to oaks” twist that’s much worse than it sounds). Of course, The Evil Dead gives us an infamous lady-raping tree, but the film that truly alleviates my guilt over wasting paper goes back 70 years to the Yellow Brick Road. Whether Oz exists south of the Equator or somewhere deep inside Dorothy’s uppers/downers-filled head, it does boast a forest that could kick the hobbits out of Middle Earth. If my woods ever insulted me with the fervor of a bad standup comic or hurled apples my way with more speed than Johann Santana, I’d say screw double-sided copies and bring on urban sprawl.

Eat Your Vegetables (Before They Kill You)

When I was 8 years old, I started my first great unfinished screenplay titled, quite simply,  “Don’t Eat.” The poster art (done in pre-sharpener equipped Crayola) featured a giant hot dog menacingly squeezing a ketchup bottle’s contents into a dying diner’s mouth as flames spouted out his eyes. I’m still waiting for Harvey Weinstein’s call, but in the meantime, any film about killer food will keep me entertained. Because it’s ridiculous. Obviously, Attack of the Killer Tomatoes is worth its infamy, but for a poetically veggie viewing, I’d hit up Children of the Corn 2: The Final (despite 5 more and counting sequels) Sacrifice. The 1992 installment tosses in an explanation of how chemically rotting corn mold was responsible for driving Isaac & Co. into Bad Seed levels of bloodthirstiness. And here I thought those cobs just had too many carbs.

Villainous Vinery

Invasion of the Body Snatchers has its spores and Creepshow has a fuzzy green Stephen King, but it seems like most ferocious fauna is a tad too alien-based for a day that celebrates this planet. Perhaps one of the most underrated horror films of recent years is The Ruins, a glossy but nasty little chiller that features frisky plant life as creatively sadistic as it is au naturale. Based on Scott B. Smith’s fantastically frightening novel of the same name, The Ruins makes a poison ivy rash look pleasant. Hell, it makes jumping naked into an overgrown garden of three-leaved bushes look more comforting than falling gently into a basket of fluffy towels regularly leapt into by Snuggles, the fabric softener bear.

Emoting in the Wind (which is totally not Happening)

If the world is indeed populated by nerdy, whiny voiced Mark Walberg’s who constantly worry about What’s Happening to The Bees!, then I’m all for deadly wind swooping in to destroy the human population in grisly and thoroughly painful ways. While I admire M. Night Shayamalan’s um, intent to highlight environmental issues, I--along, I’m sure, with most of the non-comatose public who lost 89 minutes to this bewildering bad mess--found his latest disaster to be worthy of extinction. Still, the idea of Mother Nature taking matters into her own hands ain’t bad. 

Now let’s never speak of this movie again.

Deadly Dionaea Muscipula

Let us stop to consider the irony of the venus fly trap. It’s a plant. It’s also a carnivore. In a way, that makes perfect sense (you can never accuse it of cannibalism) but holy shit. A plant eats meat. It’s nearly as confusing as goblins turning humans into greenery for cuisine while promoting vigilant vegetarianism (it's hard to go more than a week without mentioning Troll 2 in some form or another). 

Naturally, venus fly traps make ideal villains. Little Shop of Horrors amps it up by fitting its name to cast its a man-eating flower as a creature FROM outer space, but for a more earth-bound example, look to the animated framing story of Creepshow 2. It even teaches a few lessons about the wrongness of bullying and the importance of teaching youths about gardening. 

So dear readers, how did YOU celebrate your homeland this past week? Non-dairy pizza parties decorated with crepe-shaped hemp paper or learning a lesson about organic recycling with Cliff Clavin in Motel Hell?