Showing posts with label ti west. Show all posts
Showing posts with label ti west. Show all posts

Monday, October 20, 2014

Is That Store Brand Electric Kook-Aid?


Don't ask me why, but I love cults. I mean, I don't LOVE as in I want to hug them or have their children or, heaven forbid, BE IN ONE, but I just find the concept truly fascinating. The idea that someone can have such an explosive combination of charisma and ego that can drive dozens or hundreds of people to follow him or her blindly is horrifying. 

I recall quite the media stir when the Heaven's Gate cult made its move, the suicide of 39 people mysteriously clad in Nike sneakers. David Letterman couldn't get enough of its joke factor, but it was a documentary I watched as an impressionable teenager that truly haunted me. The key element was that this TV special--I've never been able to find it again--showed footage of some of the Heaven's Gate members before their full-on entrance into the community, then included interviews recorded with them after. All had shaved their heads and wore plain, genderless clothes. You could barely tell one apart from the other, much less match them to the 'normal' person they had been shown as earlier. Most striking was the look in their eyes as they talked about their community. It was perfectly blank. And again, identical on every subject.

I don't remember ever being quite so unnerved. Perhaps it was just really good editing, but the idea that your friend or sibling or spouse could transform into a minion with no discernible person of their own was terrifying. Granted, some of my favorite sitcom moments used the same idea to great comedic effect, but it doesn’t really minimize the horror.


With The House of the Devil, Ti West came upon the modern horror scene like its own version of a new messiah. I was let down by The Innkeepers, haven’t been able to get through V/H/S, and found his installment in The ABCs of Death rather eye-rolling. But I root for the guy. And he made a film about a cult. So let’s do this.


Quick Plot: A pair of Brooklyn documentary filmmakers named Jake and Sam (Joe Swanberg and A.J. Bowen, two talented men fast becoming the faces of 21st century horror) learn that their friend Patrick has received a mysterious message from his ex-addict sister (Amy Seimetz). She's living with a private community in an unnamed country and asks him to visit, although she can't/won't give any specific details about its location.


Intrigued. Sam and Jake decide to join Patrick on the trip, cameras and go get 'em attitude in place. As soon as they're greeted by local guards wielding machine guns, the mood starts to change.


Welcome to Jonestown. Because, let's face it, that's exactly what The Sacrament is. 

You know that standard credit that rolls at the end of every movie? The "characters in this film are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental." Well, The Sacrament has one. And that's kind of ridiculous.


Ti West knows how to make a good horror film. He can build suspense. He can use music effectively (even forgiving the fact that this is found footage, so the soundtrack would have mysteriously been added after the fact). He has a great hand with actors. All of that is clear with The Sacrament. 


It's an effective film. It's unsettling, as any tale about a cult led by a creepily charismatic leader willing to herd them into mass suicide (or “suicide,” as it were) would be. The problem, of course, is that it’s not an original tale. It's also not admitting to be, you know, what amounts to a dramatization of one of America's most unsettling real-life horror stories.


The story of Jonestown is readily documented in various books and films (several of which are also streaming on Netflix). The Sacrament, however, never claims to be about Jonestown. It also never deviates in any notable way from the events that went down in Guyana in 1978. 

So what's the point? Is West just trying to turn a historical event into a modern horror film? If he's trying to say something about the nature of cults, well, he's not doing so in any way that history hasn't already. It makes for an incredibly odd viewing experience. Especially when, even at the very end, we get a roll of text that sums up the fictional massacre as if it were real. And then credits roll. Because it wasn’t real.


I’ve been begging for more cult-based horror for as long as I’ve been writing about it. I find the concept fascinating and rife for exploration. But why explore territory if you’re not going to make a single original observation? Sam and Jake are almost set up to be the hipster New York journalists without any real understanding of the world that’s not theirs, but the film backs away from that, instead making them fairly genuine guys just trying to get out alive and help if they can. They don’t really even get much of an arc. 


Ultimately, the only interesting character is Seimetz’s Caroline, mostly because her story is one we haven’t heard before. We’ve seen the footage of Jim Jones preaching and heard the documentation of what the aftermath of his massacre looked like. Had the film maybe dug deeper or explored a viewpoint we don’t already know, at least it would have felt new. Instead, it feels unnecessary and even, extremely tasteless. 


High Points
When your cast includes a batch of young actors who have spent the last few years in improvised low budget filmmaking, it’s no surprise that the performances are far more natural than your average found footage horror movie


Low Points
Aside from the already explained bafflement I had at the motivation behind the film, there are a few major issues with transplanting a story from the '70s into the 2010s (whatever this decade is called). The People's Temple drew in crowds in a big part because of where America was at the time. I'm not saying this country is now an eden of its own to black citizens or the elderly or anyone not falling in line with the U.S. government, but The Sacrament never makes any kind of effort to justify why so many different types of people are willing to give everything to a false messiah.


Lessons Learned
People in fashion should own boots

Cell phones won’t get reception in the middle of a creepy religious commune, but thankfully, there are plenty of spots to plug in and keep your battery well charged


Helicopter pilots have a pretty high tolerance to pain

Rent/Bury/Buy
I don't really know how to recommend The Sacrament. It's a finely made film, extremely unsettling where it needs to be and strongly acted by a cast that's comfortable playing the found footage naturalism (the fact that Joe Swanberg directed the improvised Drinking Buddies certainly helps). Personally, I just don't understand why Ti West would simply retell the story of Jonestown without, as far as I felt form this viewing, bringing anything other than a good filmmaker's eye to it. Am I missing something? The film is streaming on Instant Watch, so I'd be happy for readers to check it out and share their thoughts. I haven't felt this conflicted about how to feel about a film in quite a long time.

Monday, July 9, 2012

Master of the Pedlar's Inn




Oh fiddlesticks. I really wanted to like The Innkeepers. Actually, based on my adoration for Ti West's House of the Devil and my genuine belief that he was responsible for the good parts of the not really that good Cabin Fever 2, I wanted to LOVE The Innkeepers.

Sigh.

Quick Plot: The Yankee Pedlar Inn is a quaint little historical hotel about to close its doors forever. On its last weekend in business, clerks Claire (Last House On the Left's Sara Paxton) and Luke (Pat Healy) decide to pull some Ghosthunters action and see if they can find any genuine evidence of its supposed supernatural guests. Along the way, they kinda sorta help out the natural guests: an aggravated single mom with her young son, a mysterious old man, and a former sitcom star (Stakeland’s Kelly McGillis).


What follows is some chipper banter between Claire and the nerdy Luke, followed ever so slowly by the confirmation that yes indeed, there’s a ghost afoot at the Pedlar Inn. Much like House of the Devil, the film’s style is to charm us with its lead before subjecting her to all sorts of scary movie hijinks…at the last possible minute.


I hate being this kind of person when discussing film, but here goes:

The Innkeepers is no House of the Devil.

Now in most worlds, this would be more than fine. No director should spend his or her career making the same film over and over again (helLO Tim Burton), but the issue is that The Innkeepers feels like it’s trying so hard to BE The House of the Devil with a softer edge. It’s not just the concept of the film being a throwback to late ‘70s genre style; it’s that the pacing and characterization feel directly cut from the same fabric, just dyed a different color or some other analogous comment. There’s even a Greta Gerwig stand-in (Lena Girls Dunham as a chatty barista) tossed in for comic relief.


So logic would dictate that if you liked The House of the Devil, you’ll like The Innkeepers…but I didn’t. I didn’t because it wasn’t ever dark enough to be genuinely scary, nor could it ever find its solid footing as comedy. The climax happens in 10 minutes (I know—just like HotD) but for me, it simply did nothing.


As an hour-long Masters of Horror episode, The Innkeepers would have worked great. Perhaps it will age well in ten years as a sort of underrated good genre film that people expected the wrong thing from the first time around. I won’t rule that out. I just also have no desire to rewatch it soon and make that decision.

High Notes
Much like Jocelin Donahue’s one-woman show in House of the Devil, Sara Paxton finds the perfect notes to make Claire likable, cute, and sympathetic


You know how annoyed I get when horror films make obvious and forced homage to older classics? (i.e., look at how I named my characters Romero and Carpenter!). Hence my utter glee when Luke informs Claire that he took Room 216 and she responds “Of course.” Now anyone with a passing familiarity to The Shining will deduce Room 216 gives a comfortable closeness to Room 217 and can get the joke without another word of explanation. THIS is how you honor a past film


Low Notes
The utter disappointment I felt watching something mediocre and unambitious from a director that I know can do better


Lessons Learned
Saying I love you on IM is like saying it during sex

Psychic conventions are generally held in small Pennsylvanian towns

Never skimp on bread. You’ll always regret it

Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa????? Moment of Me Watching the Film
I was eager to explore IMDB because I thought the little boy was played by the same child actors as Lysa Aryan’s 6-year-old-and-still-happy-to-be-breastfed son on Game of Thrones. Sadly, he is not, but GUESS WHAT? The character’s mother? Gina from the early ‘90s era Sesame Street. I have no idea how to feel about that, other than glad she’s not breast-feeding her too-old son



Rent/Bury/Buy
It’s easy to blame my disappointment with The Innkeepers on expectation. But if Ti West was worried that people would be disappointed with Not The House of the Devil, then why make a film that carries so much of The House of the Devil into every frame? Anyway, this is, as you would expect, decently made, affectionately scored, and well-acted. It just did not work for me in the least. I’d love to hear people tell me I’m wrong, so if there’s something I didn’t get, go head and give it to me. Especially if it’s loaded with cheese. I’m really hungry.

Sunday, July 25, 2010

Dusting off the archives for Film Club Day



Pop quiz hotshot.
What's the best way to be cool?

A. Get a tattoo of the Chinese characters for "iPad"
B. Cruise through town on a Segway covered in environmentally concerned bumper stickers
C. Participate in Final Girl Stacie Ponder's Film Club 

If you're reading this blog, you're already hip enough to know the answer. Savvy readers will remember that I reviewed Ti West's well-received The House of the Devil earlier this year but since I'm sad to say I haven't had to chance to revisit it, what follows is merely a reprint of past work. So in a sense, this marks the first official summer rerun of The Doll's House. For fresh perspectives, order some questionable pizza, head to http://finalgirl.blogspot.com/ and catch a few more posts by fellow club kids.



Ti West’s The House of the Devil is the new darling of the horror community which meant I was hesitant to watch and review it because a) many others have already done so and b) my expectations are rarely met (I’m sorry Trick ‘r Treat. I really like you but can we just be friends?). Hearing such mountainous heaps of praise from nearly every blog and podcast I respect left me no choice.
I had to enter The House of the Devil.

Quick Plot: College student Sam (Jocelin Donahue) is about to rent an adorable two bedroom home, mostly to escape germs and her promiscuous roommate’s date nights. Unfortunately, she suffers the condition shared by many coeds by not really having much in the bank. To earn a few bucks, Sam answers the mysterious ad for a baby$itter posted on a campus corkboard.

After much hesitation, girlfriend chatting, and pizza not-eating, Sam accepts the job. BFF Megan (Greta Gerwig) drives her to the secluded home of Mr. and Mrs. Ullman where things are, not surprisingly, not quite what they seem. 
They’re weiiiiiiiiiiird. You should know you’re in trouble when Tom Noonan, that 10’ tall enigma of fine thespianhood with genre cred, opens the door with painful politeness and far too much gratitude. Plus, Mrs. Ullman (the fine Mary Woronov) wears fur and the local pizza guy is more polite than a Jehovah’s Witness on a Saturday morning. I’ll cease any more detail on plot to protect the house of the virgins, but honestly, most of the story ends just about there anyway.

Other stuff happens, but The House of the Devil succeeds--and yes, it truly does--based on atmosphere. West clearly went to great lengths to ground everything about The House of the Devil in that golden age of creepiness known as the late ‘70s to early ‘80s, when Satan made more cameos than Christopher Walken. From the high-waisted jeans to grainy cinematography, every second onscreen is a new form of retro.
Also, it’s a damn scary movie, providing you accept a film primarily built on the oft used term, rarely mastered format, ‘slow burn.’ There are a lot of viewers--solid genre fans among them--who will say The House of the Devil doesn’t work, and they’re not necessarily wrong. Like The Haunting, Rosemary’s Baby, or even The Others, The House of the Devil is more about atmospheric buildup than blood (which is not to say there is none; a few fantastic practical effects practically drip goo off the screen). It might pull you in. It might not.

It got me, and I’m extremely happy that it did. The Ullmans are creepy, also quietly polite in a way that makes you believe Sam would accept their mysterious job. The actual house is a classic example of haunted gothic, made all the more eerie by the impending lunar eclipse. While we as an audience long to pull Sam’s flip-out bangs out of a situation that simply HAS to be wrong, Donahue does a perfect job at conveying smart caution mixed with simple monetary need. Like us, she enters the house sensing something off, then slowly lets her guard down as the jump scares prove groundless. By the time hell really starts burning, it’s incredibly jarring because we’ve already survived countless ups and downs. The payoff might seem a little too quick, but that’s only because we’ve had so much fun getting nervous with an hour’s worth of carefully constructed tension.
High Points
Gold stars to the whole cast, from Donahue for centering the story to Gerwig adding sassy and believable humor and the perfectly pitched Noonan and Woronov for being the definition of eery awesome

Guns are generally not that interesting on camera, but The House of the Devil finds several ways to make them truly frightening
Low Points
Um. I’m coming up short. If there’s any fault in the seamless direction of The House of the Devil, it shows somewhere in the bloody finale, which is simply not quite as stand-out as the masterful buildup.
Lessons Learned
Massachusetts is home to really awful pizza
Hard candy from old people is always gross, even when said elderly are Satanists
Don’t smoke. Seriously. Just don’t.
Rent/Bury/Buy
Every fan of the horror genre should give The House of the Devil a fair chance, but I do fully expect a vocal portion to find this an underwhelming and boring film. However, if you’re tired of self-aware slasher satires and just want an old fashioned spooky flick, this is a definite watch and, once proven, a solid purchase. The DVD includes some featurettes and an informative filmmaker and crew commentary (which, considering the skill at work, is a great investment for those interested in the technical side of filmmaking). Playful performances, masterful atmosphere, and an energetic throwback spirit makes it something truly special.

Monday, March 15, 2010

What Goes Best With a Tux? Flesh Eating Bacteria, That’s What!





Cabin Fever was one of the oddest theatrical releases of the early 21st century, an overexcited, occasionally refreshing and often annoying mix of over-the-top gore, crass comedy, ‘80s homage, and pancakes. Perhaps then it’s only fitting that its sequel comes with a bucket of offscreen controversy and onscreen sloppiness.


In case you didn’t have your hopefully still attached ear to the horror news networks these past few months, Cabin Fever 2: Spring Fever was directed (near completely) by House of the Devil  golden boy Ti West, who pleaded fruitlessly to have his name removed from the credits. Word on the virtual street is that West disagreed with producers over the final cut during the post-production process, eventually stepping away from the project and letting the Powers That Be Lionsgate finish the film as they saw fit.
It shows.
Quick Plot: Top-billed Rider Strong reprises his quickly rotting role as he flees the titular cabin and gets splattered by an early morning school bus. Familiar local cop Winston (Guiseppe Andrews) misdiagnoses the gunk as moose and an animated credits reel reveal the town water soon to be bottled is infected by that same flesh-eating virus that tore through many pretty people in Eli Roth’s original.

We quickly move on to typical high school politics, where smart senior John (Deadgirl ’s jerk Noah Segan, still traveling via bicycle) pines for pretty, popular, and recently-broken-up-from-her-samurai-wannabe-psycho-boyfriend Cassie while chubby pal Alex smoothly enjoys a quickie--real quickie--from a randomly easy classmate. A frog dissection and near suspension later, it’s prom night (cue the song! seriously) and the high school’s a’hoppin’ with a disco beat.
If you’ve heard anything about Cabin Fever 2, it’s probably that this is not the film to watch while eating nachos. See, there’s a lot of blood, and guts, and viral warts on private parts, and bloodier semen than Wilhem Dafoe’s Antichrist  climax. That being said, it’s also really not that...well...disturbing.

Or particularly good.
As the school dance kicks in, Cabin Fever 2 kicks into gear with a gymnasium-full viral spread that starts with a poisoned water, infected urine-spiced punch bowl. An awkward sex scene between the prom king and token obese outcast in a pool seems only to hint at something interesting, while the dance floor erupts into a lightning fast bloodbath before the prom queen can give what was sure to be an Obama-esque speech. In almost no time (the movie is under 80 minutes, after all), we’re left with John, Cassie, Alex, and a few unexplained gun-toting officials trying to survive amid lots of gooey grossness.
Oh! And of those 80 minutes, about 28 or so are randomly assigned to Winston’s Adventures as the enigmatic, if also annoying and baffling cop hangs out with Judah Frielander and hits the road in his cousin’s van. While I enjoy the pure weirdness of Andrews’ oddball character, nothing in this storyline (if you can really call it that) ever feels in line with the rest of the film, making the many diversions to his aimless lollygagging an incredibly wasted amount of screen time with no real payoff.
On one side, we have a humorous, but also occasionally heartfelt teenage gorefest built on occasional suspense and realistically drawn characters. On the other, a simply bizarre and directionless tale of a dimwit. I kind of enjoyed the persistence Cabin Fever 2 had in NOT being your typical by the numbers sequel, but it was, much like its basis, all over the place, further scattered by a tacked-on, far too long 10 minute epilogue following a high school stripper.

I can’t really say where Ti West’s involvement ended, but the lack of a strong directorial touch in the editing finish is uncomfortably felt in the latter half of Cabin Fever 2. Honestly, I don’t know that this would be anywhere near a classic had he stayed on board throughout, but the messiness of plotting--much like the original--makes the viewing experience simply strange.
A recent article in Shock Till You Drop offered one tidbit by producer Lauren Moews explaining how fitting it was that Cabin Fever 2 was edited by the same woman responsible for several John Waters’ films, and there are indeed some similarities. West gives us plenty of gratuitously ick-heavy moments that dare the audience to look away, like a prematurely ended-by-puke lap dance or intensely detailed fingernail peel (the only one that got me wincing). There are plenty of refreshing little quirks that keep the film fun and it’s hard to argue with any movie that recycles the only great thing about Prom Night (namely, Jamie Lee Curtis’ disco tune). At the same time, it’s impossible to care about anything when the film seems so insistent on not taking itself seriously.
High Points
There’s some nifty practical effects at work, like an early diner scene featuring a blood-squirting voicebox

West tows a careful line with his high school characters, using honored archetypes but imbuing them with interesting enough spins, like the ex-boyfriend’s Japanophile quirks and John’s surprisingly refreshing honesty with his dreamgirl (not deadgirl)
Low Points
An overly headache inducing fire extinguisher attack would be impressive if we hadn’t seen it before in The Signal or Irreversible
We don’t need--or really want--a huge backstory in fluffy romp like this, but the fact that the army or FDA or FBI or whoever the men with guns and gas cans are never explained is one more missing piece in a film not fully put together

A few moments of tension are broken when you realize how ridiculous they play out. Would the soldiers--or whoever it is patrolling the school, see previous Low Point--really not hear the kids escape an empty classroom 4 seconds after exiting themselves?
Lessons Learned
William Katt’s Carrie tuxedo never goes out of style



Bitches value spite and money


If getting a touch of infected blood on your skin will infect you, then running said hand through a buzzsaw and watching the blood squirt all over your face will surely be the cure



Rent/Bury/Buy
Cabin Fever 2 is a manic viewing experience, but not completely devoid of charm. Fans of the original will probably get a kick out of it, as it shares much of the crass humor, all-out gore, and smarter-than-your-average teen sensibilities. If I believed in officially rating films, this one would fall in the negative side. I can't say I liked it (mostly because I didn't like it) but it's not a complete waste of 80 minutes, especially if you're simply too curious to let it pass you by.

Monday, March 1, 2010

Don’t Tell Mom, The Babysitter Will Probably End Up Dead






Ti West’s The House of the Devil is the new darling of the horror community which meant I was hesitant to watch and review it because a) many others have already done so and b) my expectations are rarely met (I’m sorry Trick ‘r Treat. I really like you but can we just be friends?). Hearing such mountainous heaps of praise from nearly every blog and podcast I respect left me no choice.
I had to enter The House of the Devil.

Quick Plot: College student Sam (Jocelin Donahue) is about to rent an adorable two bedroom home, mostly to escape germs and her promiscuous roommate’s date nights. Unfortunately, she suffers the condition shared by many coeds by not really having much in the bank. To earn a few bucks, Sam answers the mysterious ad for a baby$itter posted on a campus corkboard.

After much hesitation, girlfriend chatting, and pizza not-eating, Sam accepts the job. BFF Megan (Greta Gerwig) drives her to the secluded home of Mr. and Mrs. Ullman where things are, not surprisingly, not quite what they seem. 
They’re weiiiiiiiiiiird. You should know you’re in trouble when Tom Noonan, that 10’ tall enigma of fine thespianhood with genre cred, opens the door with painful politeness and far too much gratitude. Plus, Mrs. Ullman (the fine Mary Woronov) wears fur and the local pizza guy is more polite than a Jehovah’s Witness on a Saturday morning. I’ll cease any more detail on plot to protect the House of the virgins, but honestly, most of the story ends just about there anyway.

Other stuff happens, but The House of the Devil succeeds--and yes, it truly does--based on atmosphere. West clearly went to great lengths to ground everything about The House of the Devil in that golden age of creepiness known as the late ‘70s to early ‘80s, when Satan made more cameos than Christopher Walken. From the high-waisted jeans to grainy cinematography, every second onscreen is a new form of retro.
Also, it’s a damn scary movie, providing you accept a film primarily built on the oft used term, rarely mastered format, ‘slow burn.’ There are a lot of viewers--solid genre fans among them--who will say The House of the Devil doesn’t work, and they’re not necessarily wrong. Like The Haunting, Rosemary’s Baby, or even The Others, The House of the Devil is more about atmospheric buildup than blood (which is not to say there is none; a few fantastic practical effects practically drip goo off the screen). It might pull you in. It might not.

It got me, and I’m extremely happy that it did. The Ullmans are creepy, also quietly polite in a way that makes you believe Sam would accept their mysterious job. The actual house is a classic example of haunted gothic, made all the more eerie by the impending lunar eclipse. While we as an audience long to pull Sam’s flip-out bangs out of a situation that simply HAS to be wrong, Donahue does a perfect job at conveying smart caution mixed with simple monetary need. Like us, she enters the house sensing something off, then slowly lets her guard down as the jump scares prove groundless. By the time hell really starts burning, it’s incredibly jarring because we’ve already survived countless ups and downs. The payoff might seem a little too quick, but that’s only because we’ve had so much fun getting nervous with an hour’s worth of carefully constructed tension.
High Points
Gold stars to the whole cast, from Donahue for centering the story to Gerwig adding sassy and believable humor and the perfectly pitched Noonan and Woronov for being the definition of eery awesome

Guns are generally not that interesting on camera, but The House of the Devil finds several ways to make them truly frightening
Low Points
Um. I’m coming up short. If there’s any fault in the seamless direction of The House of the Devil, it shows somewhere in the bloody finale, which is simply not quite as stand-out as the masterful buildup.
Lessons Learned
Massachusetts is home to really awful pizza
Hard candy from old people is always gross, even when said elderly are Satanists
Don’t smoke. Seriously. Just don’t.
Rent/Bury/Buy
Every fan of the horror genre should give The House of the Devil a fair chance, but I do fully expect a vocal portion to find this an underwhelming and boring film. However, if you’re tired of self-aware slasher satires and just want an old fashioned spooky flick, this is a definite watch and, once proven, a solid purchase. The DVD includes some featurettes and an informative filmmaker and crew commentary (which, considering the skill at work, is a great investment for those interested in the technical side of filmmaking). Playful performances, masterful atmosphere, and an energetic throwback spirit makes it something truly special.