Nosferatu

Nosferatu

Director ~ Robert Eggers

Writers ~ Robert Eggers, Henrik Galeen, Bram Stoker

2024, United States - United Kingdom -Hungary

Stars ~ Lily-Rose Depp, Nicholas Hoult, Bill Skarsgård, Willem Defoe,

Aaron Taylor-Johnson

 

And with the greyscale and cinematography of the first few minutes, I was hooked, wondering if it would continue. And it does: Jarin Blaschke’s cinematography is exceptional, and the layers, the depths of the darkness and shadowplay captured are stunning. (The shot of the forest crossroads early on is a favourite.) It’s a lush and gorgeous-looking film throughout, although Eggers’ visual command has never been in doubt.

 

F.W. Murnau’s 1922 original has an uncontested legend and influence as a visual horror tone poem, and so there will always be that “remaking is sacrilegious” and “Why??!!” objections, as if remaking hasn’t always in cinema’s DNA. So that aside, the criticisms I have noted are: there’s no colour; it’s boring; it’s just a ‘Dracula’ rip-off (!); and for Robin from Dark Corners, it’s laughable with bad dialogue and acting, and he’s not the only one. None of which landed with me or challenged my enjoyment and sense of being impressed. (Robin is more chastising Eggers’ film for being not the film he wanted rather than what it is, which is a starting point that rarely gets off the runway for me: his summary is that the film is bad, unnecessary and laughable. I enjoy Dark Corners, but we disagree here) 

 

The performances stand out. Nicolas Hoult is great at conveying a man out of his depth but trying to fall back on patriarchal constructs to convince himself he’s in control, especially with his wife. Willem Defoe is reliably ornate, but not as gung-ho as Simon McBurney as Knock, biting off pigeon heads and scenery with equal gusto. Lily-Rose Depp gives it her all, certainly giving Ellen Hutter an agency, with the moment where it all goes ‘The Exorcist’ both a high-point with her physical contortions and most groan-worthy when it goes all Demonic Voice.

 

Speaking of voices: Bill Skarsgård’s Count Orlok provides a most thick and mannered accent. Skarsgård trained to lower his voice an octave and speaks a likeness of the dead language of Duncian, and where I was left in wonder at the topography of his pronunciation, others apparently found it ridiculous. The look is daring in that Orlok looks exactly like the corpse of a period nobleman, neither as monstrous as Max Schreck – a true otherworldly nightmare that makes you wonder how he would convincingly move in the real world – or as seductive as many others. Manuel Batencourt says that “In choosing to make Count Orlok repulsive, you sap it of both the metaphorical potential and the effect you want on your audience.”, but Schreck is the yardstick here rather than Lugosi or Reeve, and the effect is to present something more probable than either: a regal strigoi, if you will. It is obsession and decay rendered here rather than temptation and ravishment and the reeking charmlessness is all to the point.

 

In performances, the hidden treat here is the impressive turn by Aaron Taylor-Johnson as Friedrich Harding, providing as a character a touchstone to the normality under siege by the supernatural, and losing. In many ways, he does as much to carry the baggage as Depp, chapping at the bit as his domestic bliss is increasingly under siege.  

 

It is a pretty, lush film, full of nuance, a few shocks and a pleasing depth of Craig Lathrop’s set design and period detail. The altitude of Gothicism and melodrama here falls between Eggers’ meticulousness of ‘The Witch’ and the plunge-ahead romp of ‘The Northman’, a taste both sombre and ripe with hints of black humour. It’s almost as if Eggers has found the balance now to be both mainstream and true to his esotericism. A labour of love for a project that seems to have defined his career from the very start when he put on a theatre production of ‘Nosferatu’, Eggers says he saw this as a chance to tackle the weaknesses of Bram Stoker’s novel. Indeed, by the second half, it becomes not only an allegory for the pestilence and pandemics of the era but reads like the upper-class male fear of foreign seduction of English women in which the men bond almost homo-erotically to fend off immigrant brutes. By the time the novel gets to Van Helsing’s effusing about male camaraderie, any melodrama conveyed by the films are totally in situ. Eggers speaks of using this as an opportunity to accentuate female agency, and certainly his ‘Nosferatu’ is the Ellen Hutter show with Van Helsing conceding patriarchal authority to her self-sacrifice for the greater good. Also note that it is ultimately Count Orlok that comes across more as an addict.

 

All these facets are agreeable, searching explorations of the original, and if adaptions of well-worn text are to probe weaknesses and a few nuances instead of being comforting facsimiles, then ‘Nosferatu’ is a noble effort. Not least, it is full of arresting imagery and accumulating to an unforgettable final horror portrait. If it speaks to you, it’s just very enjoyable and the artistry makes it just a bit special. 

 

Songs of Pals ~ seconds

 Firstly, a pal's track that has a video where I don a mask of Johnny Hallyday and dance to the beat poetry of contemporary confusion. Jimmy Andrex and the Bible of Dreams puts  a pin in the modern zeitgeist of unreliable facts and truths.

 

My pal Chimneyheart is about to change his name to Blazing Pebbles, so now seems a decent time to note this song that moreorless helped solidify our friendship a long, long time ago.

 

Manu Roig has released a mini-album of skittishly upbeat electronics - here's the lead track that just raises the serotonin the more it pops and claps along.

 

 And here's a favourite from Robert Sunday, steeped in a particularly English melancholy and wistfulness.

Riki-Oh: The Story of Ricky

Riki-Oh: The Story of Ricky

力王

Director~ Ngai Choi Lam

1991, Hong Kong

Stars ~     Louis Fan, Fan Mei-Sheng, Ka-Kui Ho

Written by   Lam Nai-choi &Tetsuya Saruwatari

Based on ‘Riki-Oh’ by Masahiko Takajo and Tetsuya Saruwatari

Legendarily so-bad-it’s-superviolently-good slice of hilarious macho-posturing, seemingly powered by the energy of a thousand adolescent boys after their first work-out. And then Ricky plucks out a flute (?) - but he also plays the leaf (!). It’s probably criticism-proof in the manner of exploitation films that are so knowingly over-the-top and outrageous that calling it out is futile. All the WTF?! enjoyment comes not only from the outrageous gore but equally from its moments of silliness and dubbing, and this mostly lasts until the showdown as there isn’t much story to follow.

Based on a Manga by Masahiko Takajo and Tetsuya Saruwatari, the set-up is simple: in 2001, all prisons are privatised and the inmates exploited (!) and super-powered Ricky is incarcerated for manslaughter. Inside, it’s all ludicrous villainy, stark and bright smashable sets, and vulgar, childish gore (it’s the early shower scene where the film signals that hilarious gratuity is the name of the game). But somewhere between the flashback where a graveyard is desecrating for a training scene and the grown man representing a spoiled bratty child, the realisation is that this has been tilted at comedy from the get-go (did I detect a hint of corpsing by the actors a couple of times?). It is well-made and edited, thinly written and is more Troma in its ersatz trashiness than genuinely “bad” by failing in its earnestness. Maybe it’s Fan Mei-Sheng’s performance as Cyclops Dan that is the first glaring clue that the film is in on its own joke. It is a manifestation of “And then he ripped his guts out and punched his head off!”, with the same unthinking joy of the playground.

And yet, strangely, despite all the bullying and abuse, none of it feels troublingly cruel or disturbing. It’s pure comic book in the shallowest sense. So come the end, you might think, “Why didn’t he just do that in the first place?”, but then you wouldn’t have been entertained by an absurdist, mindless slab of violence-entertainment.

Film Comments 2024: Others + Horror

 Film Comments 2024: Others + Horror

Jonathan Glazer ‘TheZone of Interest’  was remarkable anti-narrative portrayal of total horror, presenting a perspective of the facilitators that treat it as an extension of their cosy, privileged lives. A profound achievement.  

 

I may have been unconvinced that Alex Garland’s ‘Civil War’ gelled, but in a pending "President Trump Toxic Avenger 2" world, it’s vision of people at war with each other for who-knows-what? reason certainly seemed to be onto something, somewhat prescient for those perpetually doomscrolling.

To more conventional thrillers:

 

Joshua Erkman’s ‘A Desert’ was a solid, sunbaked thriller. A photographer goes on a road trip, bearing a mid-life crisis, and discovers – like so many horrors – that Some People Just Want To Fuck You Up. Even if that’s predictable, there are full-blooded performances, grittiness, beautiful cinematography, and enough inventiveness to make this memorable. A film that will surely earn itself cult status.

 

Rather than the stylisation and staginess of his previous ‘Psychopaths’, Mickey Keating’s ‘Invader’ shouted a smash-and-grab intent. It’s a slender, brash and often intense home invasion tale told in hand-held fashion that – in their stage introduction – Keating and editor Valerie Krulfeifer warned we may have to look away and take a break from at times. And yes, sometimes the shaky-cam is confusing – blocking doesn’t seem to be a thing – but it is obviously deliberate rather than artless. Keating talked of trends in the nineties for films about Americans going abroad and getting fucked up, and how he wanted to invert that (and just stopped short of saying outright “Why do people want to come to Chicago?” Keating and Krulfeifer were light and breezy, likable and funny). And it’s true that the America presented here is litter-strewn, unfriendly, threatening and ultimately homicidal in a weirdo get-up. ‘Invader’ is a short and loud burst of social anxiety with no room for relief.

 

For lighter entertainment:

 

Chris Renaud’s ‘Despicable Me 4’ may have a plot, with Gru the main guy, but it’s the minions we come for, surely. They are a brilliant comic creation and their slapstick a constantly amusing occasionally hilarious delight. The franchise was always based in satirising the superhero/villainy genre and this time round, the minions get their own superhero group, with their going around erroneously do-gooding a highlight.

 

Kelsey Mann’s ‘Inside Out 2’ proved a solid, inventive primer for teenagers negotiating emotions. Well actually, ‘The Numskulls’ allegory is a good foundation for thinking about behaviour at any age. New Teenage Emotions gatecrash the equilibrium of our growing protagonist Riley’s character, and it’s their interplay that is the film’s core delight. Goofy designs, bright and colourful, mono-motivated and often at odds yet all aiming on the same goal. It’s a smart and mindful screenplay and execution with plenty of poignancy (Embarrassment helps and covers for Sadness). Definitely in the quietly brilliant camp.

The defiantly oddball ‘Hundreds of Beavers’ by Mike Cheslik was deliriously inventive, always funny, quite unique and spiked with nastiness as much as cartoon slapstick and craziness. That it gives people dressed up as animals romping around a forest such consistent focus and technical ingenuity – just a 19^th century bear-trapper trying to kill as many animals as he can to impress a hard-to-get girl with furs – on small budget and a load of creativity was impressive; that’s it’s just plain smart-stupid-funny and entertaining even more. Now you know what Guy Maddin rebooting Looney Tunes looks like.

 

 Pablo Berger’s ‘Robot Dreams’ was as much about loneliness as ‘All of Us Strangers’ and ‘I Saw the TV Glow’, and had a sneakily sombre tone, but colourful and benign. The anthropomorphising is absolute from our protagonist DOG to the Robot he buys for a friend. It taps into pet love sentiment and so will inevitably reach deep, although it perhaps doesn’t go as you might think. Its ultimate message about the depth and perhaps brevity of a best friendship coming up positive and life-affirming. Full of lovely details such as comedy pigeons, or a street-drumming octopus and snow on a beach, one of those benevolent, all-ages animations with proper emotional resonance. And in that way, a small treasure.

 

To franchises:

All I know is that I watched Denis Villeneuve’s ‘Dune part 2’ in a state of awe. His slightly detached manner of storytelling is not for some, but from the post-credits voice blaring out to the subsequent soldiers silently gliding up dunes, I was beguiled. It is typically a second viewing that reveals the linearity. Launching from the set-up of its predecessor, this sequel consummates a world-building of stunning cinematic breadth and technical achievement. That it is a anti-chosen-one narrative is a buried under a sandcastle, but Paul Atreides refusing and then fully embracing the White Messiah complex is nicely accentuated by foregrounding Chani: I found Zendaya a weakness of the first part, but not so here. The palaces, the spaceships, the battles, the pomposity: this is science-fiction size on screen to compete with what was in your head when you read a book. Totally immersive.

 

Wes Ball’s ‘Kingdom of the Planet of the Apes’ came trading in the goodwill of the franchise that has lasted decades. It came with a somewhat unwieldy name that implied we might get an ‘Outhouse of the Planet of the Apes’ at some future point. The opening is a little like consul gameplay challenge with the apes trying to get far-flung eggs, and because it was world-building for another trilogy, the pacing issues were achingly obvious, almost recovering from them when Proximus’s prison-Utopia becomes the focus. But Mae the human is a flaw, being one of those defiant characters who causes a much trouble when her only motivation is defiance!, thinking that is strength, and the film seems to think so too. Dreary and despondent rather than scary, energised doom mongering. 

 

Shawn Levy’s ‘Deadpool & Wolverine’: There are memories of the meta-stuff being funny in the predecessor, but that has turned into in-jokes, no consequence and a narrative built on audience applauding cameos. Yet, good for a few laughs.

 

Fede Álvarez ‘Alien: Romulus’ does a lot right, rehashing and rebooting, and there was a lot to enjoy when a bunch of looters come up against xenomorphs. There was always a sense of thinking out the set-pieces and problem solving, of returning to monster-movie roots. of the aliens trying to reclaim their genuine scary nature. But then there’s a call-back line so glaring, so wrong, that it undermines a lot of goodwill. Nevertheless, consistently great set design, David Jonsson’s turn as Andy and the standout shots of the spaceship in the planetary rings made this enjoyable.

 

Horror:

 

To get it out of the way: It’s doubtful that any alternative adaptation could usurp the glorious 1979 series that traumatised a generation, but if there ever was to be it was not Gary Dauberman’s ‘Salem’s Lot’. There was potential to the drive-in finale, but it was not a film that found a way to condense the sprawl of the material into something effective and unnerving, leaving it thin and shruggable.

 

Damien Leone’s ‘Terrifier Part 3’ was an obvious result of adolescent boys getting together trying to think up the most outrageous and gory set pieces they can. But there’s no doubt that Art the Clown is a great performance by David Howard Thornton, and that Leone can direct, wallowing in cruelty without any point or consequence. Like part 2: probably what non-horror fans think horror is: over two hours of sadism and outrageous gore with a magic sword get-out clause. But this time with added Christmas bullshit.

 

Films like Frédéric Jardin’s daft ‘Survive’ and even Pierre Tsigaridis’ daft and ikky ‘Traumatika’ were not-good-but-enjoyable-nonetheless. Films like ‘The Invisible Raptor’  and ‘Alien Country’ were far funnier and better than their one joke promise. Films like  Clark Baker’s ‘Test Screening’, Josh Forbes’ ‘Destroy all Neighbours’ and the ‘V/H/S Beyond’ did exactly what they promised on the tin, and enjoyable if undemanding for that.

 

But then there was Cameron and Colin Cairns’ ‘Late night With the Devil’ that managed to make its evident flaws irrelevant. It proved to be the genre’s underground success, overcoming any imperfections by its era recreation and just being greatly enjoyable.

Equally scruffy but memorable was Yusron Fuadi’s ‘The Draft!’, generically stumbling along it’s tropes, when suddenly its title makes sense and opens up a host of meta-gags. Even the score set to “overkill” and a gag reel make sense in context. Surprisingly smart and amusing.

 

‘The Last Voyage of the Demeter’: Troubled by distribution delays, André Øvredal’s embellishment on one of ‘Dracula’s best passages proved a solid big monster movie with some good characterisation (ships were centres of diversity) and some great monster effects. Not at all gruesome or scary, but impressively mounted and touched with a little nastiness when it needs it. Lavish and slick if unremarkable Gothic horror entertainment (and a light companion piece to Eggers ‘Nosferatu’).

 

Sébastien Vaniček ‘Infested’ had the socio-political horror down pat, where the bigger threat was the police trying to keep the less fortunate in a deathtrap, but the spider action was a little underwhelming.

 

In a post-pandemic world, David Moreau’s ‘MadS’ couldn’t help but have a little more socio-political heft, but as a straightforward One-Take-Wonder romp-and-dazzle on a familiar set-up, it delivered.

 

Alexandre Aja’s ‘Never Let Go’ was on the verge of saying something relevant about isolationism, delusion, nature/nature, but never quite made a point. Halle Berry gave it earnestness – but was this just commitment or signalling the mental illness of fundamentalism? And the child performances were impressive, as was the tense atmosphere – Aja is a craftsman, there’s no doubt – but there’s a fine line between ambiguity and being the feeling of being cheated out of answers.

 

A far better folk horror was Daniel Kokotajlo’s ‘Starve Acre’. Unfolding as expected, although distinguished by the rabbit action, but nevertheless hitting directly that pleasure zone of British Seventies horror vibe. Oddball performances, uncanniness, the sense that grief may lead you to dig up the past and into ruination.

Also in this realm was Benjamin Barfoot’s ‘Daddy’s Head’, impressive for having its internal logic all thought out and all the random uncanniness stem from this, making ultimate sense once you put the pieces together (horrors often feel like they’re the other way around). With a dread, slow burn atmosphere and a modest itinerary on its ambition, its lack of Big Horror might leave some cold, but it was far better than its bad, bad title.

 

Couples trouble was covered by Jason Yu’s creepy-fun ‘Sleep’  and Caye Casas’ ‘The Coffee Table’. The former was ultimately a sad tale, despite its veneer of horror tropes, and the latter funny until defined by the unbearable. In that sense, it was true horror.

 

For other favoured horror-thrillers that weren’t ‘Strange Darling’:

 

Kyle McConaghy and Joe DeBoer ‘Dead Mail’: Set firmly in a dour, washed-out Eighties where most era homages look like cardboard cut-outs coloured in felt tips. Deliberately low-fi aesthetic, all the cassettes, typewriters, rotary phones and sleuthing mail departments surely puts this in a technological era that will be totally alien to younger viewers. Superior attention to detail, character and plotting makes this increasingly engrossing as an unusual thriller based upon synthesizer geeks and mail offices that work more like altruistic private detectives. There’s also bonus appreciation of the underappreciated heroism of working people just doing their job and taking a care. Its context feels so, so real with Fleck and Macer Jr’s performances infused with pathos rather that movie thriller panic and motivation. And the devotion to analogue synthesizer music on the soundtrack gives it that extra special element.

 

Any seasoned horror fan will get where this is going from the opening credits collage. Teddy Grennan’s ‘Catch a Killer’ makes for a thriller whose stylishness belies its B-genre concept, but it’s slick, entertaining, very enjoyable and hosts a great central performance from Sam Brooks. And for once, the romance feels worthwhile rather than performative. I for one appreciate the swiftness of the ending as opposed to a originally conceived protracted showdown that would have highlighted more problematic elements.

 

Perhaps Chris Nash’s ‘In a Violent Nature’ was not quite the slasher deconstruction I first thought it to be, but, my word: what a difference pace and camera placement makes. I was deeply amused that such a thing as an ambient slasher existed, and I was fully hooked. It trudged along with in a slow burn without a score to spark responses in a manner  that I assumed to be antithetical to the Jason Vorhees crowd. Often the plot and victims – I mean: we have seen it endless times – was approached by the hulking undead killer from afar, deliberately, non-excitedly; but every other kill was grandiose and gruesome. And the ending wasn’t going to win anyone over either, but all this same-old-story-from-a-different-angle was a winner for me.

 

And:

 

Disappointments 2024:

Drive-Away Dolls

Lady Frankenstein

MaXXXine

Never Let Go

Deadpool vs Wolverine

 

These were films I was genuinely excited for but left underwhelmed.

I mean, I never expected ‘Salem’s Lot’ to impress, but I thought I might be pleasantly surprised.

 

A few favourite soundtracks/scores 2024

The Zone of Interest

I Saw the TV Glow

Strange Darling

Perfect Days