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...

6 Reasons Why Mickey Rourke Makes Immortals Almost Worth Watching

Don’t let my enthusiasm deceive you: Immortals is not a good movie. Like Tarsem’s first big budget film The Cell, it’s very pretty. Visually groovy. High fashion fabulous and even an audio treat. 

But it’s also ridiculous.

Emily! You say. How can a blockbuster epic about Greek mythology not be great? There are gods! And they’re HOT!

There are Titans!

...who scurry like cave dwellers in The Descent and wear more body makeup than the cast of Apocalypto. They’ve been hanging out in a golden box buried deep inside a giant, but really easily penetrable wall. But you know what opens a golden box buried deep inside a giant, but really easily penetrable wall? A sparkling bow that shoots lustrous arrows, of course!

I KNOW! I also can’t wait to see how this subject matter gets tackled in XXX This Ain’t Immortals, coming soon to an online retailer near you. Hopefully it’s an urn-full sexier than the hilariously irresponsible and even more hilariously not sexy oracle seduction scene in the actual movie.

But why harp on the negative when we’ve got something awesome, something truly worthy of the gods’ golden showers? I am, of course referring to Mickey Rourke’s King Hyperion, the deliciously cruel and decadently dressed villain whose prime motivation is ‘the gods SUCK! Let’s unleash the titans!’

This is a great character motivation to have because it means we get to hear Mickey Rourke say ‘unleash the titans.’ A. Lot.

But that’s just the tip of Mt. Olympus. Here’s six more reasons why Rourke rocks:

1. Hat That

The man sports a bevy of headwear during his exploits, but most notably is this black helmet accented by claws (or teeth, or claw teeth) that frame Rourke’s unforgettable mug. Sure, it blocks most peripheral vision, but come on! It also looks like this:

2. Dude smokes folks in a cow

True, it’s not quite as grand as Gary Oldman’s elephant oven, but still...dude smokes folks in a cow.

3. Dieting is for eunuchs

Remember how Elaine was ALWAYS eating on Seinfeld? It was just a thing, and yet it worked. Hyperion has a lot of ‘things’--kickass hats, minions dressed like GWAR--so he didn’t even need another one, but you can’t throw a spear without catching the king feasting on something. I almost wonder if Rouke just refused to leave the craft service table until fresh pomegranates were flown in. Then Tarsem found a compromise, wherein Rourke would start filming, but once the pomegranates arrived, Tarsem HAD to hand them over ASAP. He didn’t have to STOP SHOOTING, just toss the fruit to Rour--er, Hyperion in the middle of a scene and that’s that. We’ll just make it a thing.

4. He’s a ball buster

Literally.


5. Share That Style

Not only does Hyperion sport a range of facewear (including a glizty gold cover that screams Street Fighter’s Vega Goes to Vegas) but he’s so fashion savvy that he MAKES masks the official uniform of his ENTIRE ARMY. From a strategic point of view, it’s not overly smart (vision in battle, anyone?) but for us in the audience, it’s super that a character cares so much. About our entertainment, not his men’s chance of running into walls or surviving.

6. Best. Line. Ever.

“Let me enlighten you,” Hyperion tells a monk prisoner.

How does Mickey Rourke 'enlighten' a monk you ask? 

By setting said dude on fire. Fire ignited by holy water. 


Bad. Ass.

Mind you, I’m not recommending Immortals, and certainly not for the added surcharge of 3D (which is tragically lacking from someone as visually innovative as The Fall’s Tarsem). While the battle scenes offer plenty of head poppings, anything not involving bodies filleted by divine chains or Mickey Rourke’s scowling is duller than a bad history lesson. None of the young leads bring anything other than great abs or pretty hair to the table, and that more than includes the amusingly miscast Stephen Dorff. 

The only glimmer of quality comes from John Hurt, who seemed to have been cast as Burgess Meredith from Clash of the Titans, then everyone forgot he was actually in the movie and thought about just planting him near the craft service table to play with Rourke’s pomegranates and hats until a nearby best boy pointed out that John Hurt does some KILLER narration so why not have him, um, narrate a film that in no way needed narration? See, Immortals opens with an empty quote about the souls of righteous men, but that’s WRITTEN. So we had to actually READ it. Just in case the audience can’t, you know, read, why not have John Hurt read that importantly empty quote out loud at the end of the film?

You know, here I wanted to write a quickie post about Immortals and now I’ve reached the very moment of the film that made me care about what I didn’t see onscreen. The final image--not really a spoiler, as I won’t describe the plot and the trailer already showed it off--is surreal and wonderful. It takes us to a new level of visual imagination that demonstrates Tarsem’s eye is still sharply unique, something that should have been integrated with the story (a la The Fall) throughout the film to produce something we care about AND think is cool-looking. It's a shame the story--a mess of lazy mythology that isn't good enough to take itself as seriously as it does--just flounders, moving from one point to the next because the beats call for it (the deadfish romance is a prime example). Perhaps one day, Tarsem can find a script to match the extraordinary imagery he'll put onscreen.

Especially when it comes to hats.

One Fish Two Fish Red Fish Cold Fish

A family drama, Shion Sono style.

That means you’re going to have a lot of severed limbs.

Quick Plot: Meet the Shamotos, a drearily unhappy family composed of a wimpy tropical fish store owner, his much younger second wife, and resentful teenage daughter. Mrs. Shamoto tosses store bought groceries in the microwave with the enthusiasm of an anorexic. Daughter Mitsuko shoplifts without care, and patriarch Nobuyuki longs for escape in the local planetarium.

After getting busted for stealing, Mitsuko befriends a garrulous businessman named Mr. Murata, who owns a cheerier tropical fish store across town and recruits the girl to join his staff of other attractive teens from troubled backgrounds. The Shamotos can’t seem to get a word in with the lively Murata and his bombshell bride, so by the end of the week, Mrs. Shamoto is having rough sex with her new friend, Mitsuko is cleaning fish tanks with a new kind of Japanese Stepfordism, and Mr. Shamoto is helping his new benefactor cover up his 58th murder by burning bones in a bonfire and covering up to the yazuka.

Indeed, making friends is an odd aspect of adult life.

Shion Sono is easily one of the most fascinating filmmakers working today. Everything from his premises--killer hair extensions! suicide cults inspired by bubblegum pop music!--to execution feels incredibly unique but generally, not forcefully so. Sure, Sono is adamantly avante garde, but rarely does his weird feel weird for the sake of weird.

Cold Fish seems most related to 2005’s Noriko’s Diner Table, the prequel to his better known Suicide Club. Both films are not easily categorized as horror, even if they feature extreme bouts of physical violence. Thematically, Cold Fish and Noriko’s Dinner Table are even more familiar. Both explore family dynamics with an emphasis on alienated teenage girls and their inefficient, inconsequential and clueless fathers. In both cases, a far more charismatic third party steps in to lead the daughters away like a modern Pied Piper.

Truth be told, I’ve only watched Noriko’s Dinner Table once (at the now defunct Two Boots Theater, sad face) and while I remember it being densely layered, I also remember it being a tad boring. Granted, its predecessor involved quite a few treats to keep you watching, from child cults to Goblin King impersonators breaking out into musical numbers. It’s a tough act to follow.

Cold Fish, on the flip side, finds an excellent pace. Though there’s a chilly distance between the audience and characters--primarily because Mr. Shamoto is intentionally barely a man--we care enough to jump on board almost immediately. And considering where the story takes us, that matters.

High Points

From Mitsuru Fukikoshi’s restraint as the near-dead Shamoto to Denden’s all-out crazy train Mr. Murata, the performances of Cold Fish are pretty pitch perfect

Low Point

Until a good hour into the film, everything we see is filtered through the Shamotos. Hence, once Mr. Murata’s driver comes to watch Murata’s wife and business colleague get it on, it’s a tad strange from a perspective point of view

Lessons Learned

Business is just entertainment (or a ploy)

The style of Japanese passion involves a lot of cupping of the boob

Getting stabbed in the neck with a pen kind of hurts

Stray Observatoin

This film may very well feature the most incompetent police officers since The Human Centipede. I say ‘since’ because even a bottle of seltzer makes a better cop than the Germans in Tom Six’s film

Rent/Bury/Buy

Part gangster film, part serial killer tale, and quite American Beauty, Cold Fish is typical Sono in being unlike anything else. It doesn’t ever go down the route you’re expecting it, making it something truly special for modern cinema. Eventually, it also gets incredibly brutal and quite disgusting, but for all the severed torso canoodles and bone sawings, Cold Fish doesn’t lose sight of the story it tells. Sure, it splatters a lot of blood over it, but at its heart, this is a film about a detached modern family letting itself be disbanded...and getting really bloody while doing so.

Sarah Plain & Tall & Telekinetic

Shelley Winters in a 1978 made-for-TV Carrie ripoff streaming on Netflix? You can bet your Olympic swimming medal that has a place at The Doll’s House!

Quick Plot: The beautiful Patty and her mousy adopted sister Sarah are heading to college, the alma mater of their sorority queen mom/pointedly adopted sorority queen mom. Patty dreams of joining the likes of queen bee Jennifer (played by the always fabulously bitchy Morgan Fairchild) at the Alpha Bitcha Bitcha House (I didn’t write the name down, but I’m pretty sure that was it) while dowdy Sarah joins the girls with less money, looks, and manners over at Phi Blah Blah House. She also strikes up a mildly inappropriate romance with one of her teachers and reveals, as Patty is forced to play the Alpha Bitcha Bitcha role, a fairly obvious case of Carrie White.

Much like The Spell, The Initiation of Sarah is a made-for-TV leftover of the Carrie juggernaut. Apparently in the late 1970s, socially awkward teenage girls with telekinetic powers were all the rage, while their mean-girl tormenters ensured acting roles would always be available for icy blonds. Brunettes, on the other hand, were safely ensured the chance to play the dumpy girl’s even dumpier buddies (how Mia Farrow’s sister snuck in as Sarah’s violin-playing pal is a mystery) and thus keep the status quo safely in line.

And that’s were it stays in this far-too-slow movie. Though well acted by its young cast, The Initiation of Sarah is sadly duller than that freshman psychology class I took where my professor uttered the expression ‘um’ 60 times in two minutes (I counted, which was more interesting than the ummish lecture). As Sarah, Kay Lenz is fine, but hardly the tragic victim of Sissy Spacek, while sister Patty (Morgan Brittany) is quite likable, even if her story never finds a snug place to fit into the supernatural development of Sarah’s heritage. Because oh yeah...her birth mother was killed in a bewitching sorority ceremony by Shelley Winters. Or something.

See, Shelley Winters is Shelley Winters. Big, boisterous, intimidating at dinner parties and I imagine, DMV lines but also a presence that simply demands your attention. You understand why she’s credited as making a “special appearance” here because without the pure power of this sassy dame, The Initiation of Sarah would be pretty hard to survive.

It’s not a terrible movie; just a dull one. At around 95 minutes, The Initiation of Sarah somehow feels epic, even though the running time covers barely half a semester. A good deal of that is Netflix listing the film in the category of “Horror Films.” When more time is spent on Sarah’s Cinderella makeover and reinvigoration of her dowdy sorority than human sacrifice or dropping pianos on people (tease!), it makes for a tad souring of my evening.

High Points

Ain’t no bitch can deliver a line like “Girls! Put on your hoods!” with quite the same panache as Shelley

Low Points

If you’re going to spend five minutes setting up a piano being suspended from the second floor vicariously as minor villains pass over it, how dare you--HOW DARE YOU SIR I SAY--end the scene without...you know, ACTUALLY dropping the piano on someone

Lessons Learned

When a man you hardly know tells you that you look good in your bathing suit then escorts you into the water, he probably wants something a little more physical than synchronized swimming

Sororities aren’t all that bad. They just make you do horrible things to test your loyalty

In the 70s campus life, kissing was far more aggressive, perhaps because the whole damned world was drinking coffee

When lifting weights, think carefully before having your ticklesome girlfriend act as your spotter

The best insult to hurl at a nervous college student is to tease her for being a prodigy

Side Note

Apparently there exists a 2006 remake made for the ABC Family Channel and starring the TOTALLY mousy and unattractive Summer Glau in the title role, with Fairchild popping back in to play her mother. Not sure if there’s a shirtless Robert Hays or piano death though

Rent/Bury/Buy

I almost feel unqualified to give an ultimate ranking of this film. Is it fair to say I didn’t like The Initiation of Sarah because it wasn’t trashy? When the worst thing the bad girls do to our heroine is throw tomatoes and mud (or maybe poop; it’s more interesting if it’s poop, so let’s say poop) her way, it just doesn’t do much to give me any reason to smile.   The film is streaming, so it certainly doesn’t hurt to try out The Initiation of Sarah, but don’t expect a huge finale. There are a few deaths and a mild ‘splosion, but nothing that a little Piper Laurie prayers couldn’t top.