The Immortal & Gomorrah: the series

The Immortal

Director ~ Marco D'Amore

Writers ~ Leonardo Fasoli, Maddalena Ravagli, Marco D'Amore

2019, Italy-Germany

Stars ~ Marco D'Amore, Giuseppe Aiello, Salvatore D'Onofrio

 

Robert Saviano’s book ‘Gomorrah’, about the Neapolitan Mafia the Camorra, is an outraged diatribe against the influence organised crime has on ordinary citizens, the fashion world, etc, etc. There is a section about how the gangsters started imitating films; for example, how a female gang started dressing like The Bride from Tarantino’s ‘Kill Bill’, or how one crime lord wanted a bath like Pacino’s in ‘Scarface’. There is perhaps no better symbol for Saviano’s disgust than when he reports that he pissed upon that bath when researching.

 

The Italian TV series very loosely based upon the book is more soap opera, but despite lots of garish often tasteless jumble to symbolise wealth, there is never the sense that these people are happy or joyous. There’s little showboating because they’re too busy being morose, plotting and grim to cosplay films. There is little glamourisation of the lifestyle. Soap opera miserabilism helps to convey that this is not a life of contentment: after all, for all the garish trimmings, nearly everyone ends up dead.

 

Since the look and feel of the series ‘Gomorrah’ tended towards the cinematic by nature, this spin-off film resembles an extended episode, but for that there’s no disappointment. This film is directed by its star, Marco D’Amore, so the look and feel is of a piece. The show stuck to its staples: people facing-off constantly; men glaring into each other’s faces, close enough to kiss; women quite often toxic and enabling; men swaggering; women crossing their arms disapprovingly; occasionally characters will decry their lot or swing between declarations of loyalty and angst. Our main man Ciro (D’Amore), for example, says little but occasionally laments his existential loneliness and lack of feeling. Occasionally, the actors get to flutter vulnerability and lost humanity on their faces; and sometimes it is unintentionally amusing as posturing tends to be.

 

This spin-off tells the tale of what Ciro was doing while season four was taking place, the difference being that we get flashbacks to when he was a little proto-gangster orphan shit. It’s not a show with much sympathy, being more fascinated with the politics and betrayals with a little weepiness over male bonding. If the crucial ingredient with Ciro is that he was a mystery (but don’t cross him), then the flashbacks perhaps attempt to give him some context or motivation, but it also reaffirms that he was always thus and no crush on an older girl is truly a redeeming backstory.

 

Marco D’Amore continues smouldering as Ciro and his work as director on some of the episodes, and this certainly doesn’t scare the horses or go any deeper. This doesn’t have the outrage of Matteo Garrone’s original film, nor, for example, the deconstruction of machismo, mythology and fighting that Kinji Fukasaku’s ‘Battles Without Honour and Humanity’ series, but ‘The Immortal’ follows the format of the series. You won’t get the moral challenges of ‘The Sopranos’ or the jaw-dropping facts of 'Narcos'. But as with the series, most of the cast are scumbags so guilt levels and empathy is not a high demand; the betrayals are thick and occasionally surprising, the turn-over is high, the pace swift, the locations of backstreets and alleyways are excellent, interspersed with beatific panoramas of the city.

 

It all makes for diverting gangster soap and this film fills in the last jigsaw piece from the series.

 

2023 Film Round-Up part 2: action & animation & franchises

• ·         Oh, so animations and franchises and action and such:

 Part 1 has the dramas.

 

 

Takashi Yamazaki’s ‘Godzilla Minus Zero’ epitomised all the fun and seriousness of a kaiju premise, mindful of the wartime origins and analogies whilst giving a worthy human drama with weight instead of killing time. And when the monster action starts, it’s so, so good.

The reality defying action in Chad Stahelski ‘John Wick: Chapter 4’ made my gripes about Jalmari Helander’s ‘Sisu’

churlish and unreasonable, but different expectations for different films. I anticipated more from ‘Sisu’ and expected nothing less from ‘John Wick’. (Then again, I recently watched some King Hu films and unrealism has always be a part of action, I guess.) ‘Chapter 4’ was ridiculously long, which was appropriate for its silly self-aggrandisement, and I was just waiting for the undeniable thrill I got from the first 40 minutes of ‘Chapter 3’. Then I began to drift, and John was across the table from another underworld adversary with just a bunch of cards between them and a bunch of expendable henchman standing around the sides of the ornate room… but I had to go for a bathroom break and I figured I could miss the bad guy pontifications and hoped I would be back in time for the action. Well, I went, and about five minutes later came back and the bad guy was still speechifying. Then followed a full-on fight on a dancefloor across several levels but no one noticed because, y’know, fighting is just like dancing or something. Of course, none of this would work without Keanu, a man of a certain age who continues to dazzle taking on these fight scenes – and indeed, learning nunchuks (and yes, yes, Tom Cruise). But it was the overhead view following a gunfight through many, many rooms that really got my thrill levels up. The last movement (last hour?) entertained me mostly. Still that first 40 minutes of ‘Chapter 3’ I will stand by.

 

But if a bloodbath with the same negligible relationship to reality, then Kim Hong Son’s ‘Project Wolf Hunting’ will more than do the trick. A perpetual bloodbath of a film that just changes genre or sends in helicopters with new bodies to massacre when it needs to. To this, one of the film’s strengths is that no one seems to be safe. That guy who you think to be the main villain? The one who you think might be the eventual hero? Pffftt. Not that you’ll be invested, as this is pure 2D stuff, but… Then the sci-fi-horror kicks in. For braindead gory fun, it’s entertaining, undemanding, slick, goofy and unrelenting. Thin on substance, probably overlong, frequently inventive, culminating in a growth of narrative at the very end that probably hopes for a sequel.

Choi Jae-hoon’s ‘The Killer’ had a similar John Wick Vibe with its tongue slightly in its cheek.  A rudimentary set-up is just to prop up a number of action set pieces, the best of which is inevitably a hallway fight. It’s bright and breezy – based on the web-comic! & adapted from a popular novel “The Kid Deserves to Die” written by Bang Jin-ho – doesn’t waste so much time on characterisation, although it avoids overt cartoonery, even some gun-fu that isn’t just pow!pow!pow! - also peppered with some genuine nastiness. We’re left in no doubt that Bang Ui Gang is a brutal piece of shit, but Jang Hyuk can also turn on the charm and reassure us that this is all good movie anti-hero-kicking-butt fun. There no insight or depth, although the plot does weave a decent web, but it’s un-insulting in its shallowness and offers some nice fight choreography (by Hyuk). 

Xavier Gens 'Farang' added to Impressive Fight genre. Action movie cliches perfectly intact: when you go a new city (in this case: Bangkok), find a high building, go to the rooftop and take in the panorama. There’s not the social commentary you might have expected/hoped for, and there’s probably too much ticking of tropes, but when it finally gets to the hallway and elevator fights, that’s everything. A film like Choi Jae-hoon's 'The Killer' and even 'Extraction 2' know to get on with the fights and play cursory attention to predictable, familar set-up, but 'Farang' is happy to wallow in comfort-action.  Nassim Lyles is magnetic enough presence and the fights look visceral and painful. And then it’s just silly season.

Talking of action, Sam Hargrave’s ‘Extraction 2’ shirked much of its bond to narrative and instead offered impressive one take action sequences which, in themselves, were impressive and that’s what we came for, even if the film was average. 

But for something more serious, a little more ‘City of God’, there was Jadesola Osiberu’s ‘Gangs of Lagos’. More Traditional Gangland Tropes than the furious criticism like others such as 'City of God' and 'Gomorrah'. Oh, there's anger here - the exploitation of the street-level gangsters by the crime lords living in opulence; political corruption - but it errs on the side of formulaic. Tobi Bakre is a striking presence that centres the whole thing, but there are lapses into cheaper melodrama and a score that is applied to everything in a way that implies amateurishness. The street slaughters pull their weight, though, where it's obvious that budget restrictions aren't hindering the extras'/stuntmen's enthusiasm, and there are a couple of splashes of gore. Most of the ingredients are here, but it's mostly admirable rather than successful.

Dan Tratchenberg’s ‘Prey’ returned Predator to some kind of credibility, very enjoyable and infused with a Girl Power streak. More successful was the hint that a franchise of Predator films set at different periods, against various communities (vs. Centurions; vs. World War I/II soldiers; etc.), was possible and offered a variety of possibilities. But I doubt we’ll get that.

Although erring on the side of earnestness rather than fun – every five minutes we’re reminded that the patriarchy isn’t respecting how kick-ass this girl is – this is probably the least insulting Predator sequel. A little temporal relocation and forgoing the Urban Jungle stuff, a little reboot of the predator’s look and some decent action and we’re in solidly entertaining territory.

Similarly, ‘Evil Dead Rise’ was better than expected. An awful trailer thoroughly put me off, framing it like some ‘Insidious’-inspired pantomime, but people kept telling me It’s Actually Quite Good and then I saw it was directed by Lee Cronin, and I liked ‘A Hole in the Ground’. Some nice claustrophobia and some genuine nastiness and conviction rather than silliness to the gurning possessed. And although it didn’t excel in any way, it wasn’t lazy in intent and didn’t devolve into zingers, despite a reductive promo campaign. It’s debatable whether sticking the ‘Evil Dead’ label to it helped or hindered.

•  Super-stuff
  

Whereas animated features like ‘Legion of Super-Heroes’ were too average and ‘Batman: The Doom that Came to Gotham’ a mess, ‘Merry Litte Batman’ and ‘Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles: Mutant Mayhem’ proved delightful.

Although aimed at a younger demographic and possessed of character design that is often repugnant (even Alfred), Mike Roth’s ‘Merry Little Batman’ is consistently amusing family fare without resorting to nudge-wink gags at the adults or compromising the villains’ nastiness. Well, there are a couple of gags at the expensed of Schumacher’s ‘Batman & Robin’… but it doesn’t indulge. That Batman is voiced by Luke Wilson should be a clue, as well as the pop-rock Christmas tunes, to a more grungey-slacker absurdism. The humour comes from 8-year-old Damien Wayne’s hyperactive desire to follow in dad’s footsteps. Damien (sterling work from Yonas Kibreab: “No pictures! Only justice!”) bounces around causing mayhem and stumbling into Joker’s plan to bring crime back to Gotham City A film that happily embraces the absurdities of the Batman mythology whilst relating to the younger audiences’ need to prove themselves. Bright, breezy, funny and oddly ugly at times.

Taking the cue from the possibilities opened up by the Spider-verse, Jeff Rowe’s ‘Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles: Mutant Mayhem’ happily freewheels through styles when the desire takes. More successfully, it lets genuine teens voice the Turtles and got the cast to do their voice-work in groups, generating a real energy of adolescent banter. It’s this that is the real magic ingredient, as the issues of difference, rejection, and acceptance all coast along merrily. It’s often funny, as grubby as it is colourful, less headache-inducing (or stunning) than the Spider-verse and, most of all: fun.

 ‘Guardians of the Galaxy vol. 3’: James Gunn rounded up ‘Guardians of the Galaxy’ with more epicness, some fan service, some surprises and some fuck-you as he added vivisection to the mix. There were still Daddy Issues, but the proof of how unpredictable Gunn’s mixture of dark-and-schmaltz outlook on the genre can be is that, at one or two points, you really do think he might kill off some major character. He even throws on an ‘Old Boy’ homage. Overstuffed, yes, but fully entertainment. And me, I could have done with more Baby Groot.

 

 But of course, ‘Spider-man: Across the Spider-verse’ was king of the genre. I had the same reaction as I had to the prequel: immediately – Whooo, slow down! And then – oh, wow! I didn’t know this was a “to be continued” ( I like to know as little as possible) so the ending came as a pleasant surprise and I just chuckled with satisfaction. Groundbreaking stuff. 

One last note on the super-hero stuff: Quentin Dupieux’s ‘Smoking Causes Coughing’ happily started from the point of mocking the genre’s absurdism before turning into a portmanteaux that widened its targets to embrace all kinds of silliness with some horror garnish.

Dillinger

Dillinger

Writer & Director – John Milius

1973, USA

Stars – Warren Oates, Ben Johnson, Michelle Phillip, Harry Dean Stanton, Richard Dreyfuss

 

Tipping its hat gratefully to ‘Bonnie and Clyde’ as it speeds past, John Milius’ ‘Dillinger’ reels headlong into a particular ‘70s style of brutality. From the moment Warren Oates opens with his monologue to those he’s robbing that they treat this moment as something they should treat as a golden moment in their lives to go on  to tell, there’s the charm that makes him an anti-hero. This spell is quickly broken when he essentially rapes his soon-to-be-beloved – or maybe they just like it rough with that particularly ‘70s misogyny? Apparently, Milius was the kind of director that took guns on set, but he’s fully aware of the aforementioned conflict: he’s as much enamoured with as appalled by Dillinger: “You’re going to like him, in fact, you’re going to like him a lot, you’re going to wish he doesn’t get filled full of holes – but he still deserves it.”*

 

Playing fast and loose with the facts of “Public Enemy No. 1”, (for example, apparently Dillinger didn’t pull his gun outside the cinema; see IMDB trivia for starters, etc) and despite it’s more measured tones, the exploitation angle is in no doubt. This is not for historians. Come for the cheap thrills, indulgence in and a little deconstruction of the myth. Dillinger’s crew features Pretty Boy Floyd and Baby Face Nelson, the kind of monikers that would go down in history and influence the nicknaming of criminals to come. The familiar faces in the cast – like Dean Stanton, Dreyfuss and John P. Ryan – help to root narrative, which is always jumping around, a cut-and-paste of vignettes of the gangsters’ career. There’s a lot of potential charisma in the legend but we only see them in sparse midwestern stark rooms and landscapes, and there’s not much glamour here. This may be down to budget, but it’s nevertheless effective. 

 

 

Dillinger’s crew take on a kind of folk hero status, speeding around in death-trap cars robbing banks during the Great Depression Midwest; Sticking It To The Man. It runs on petrol, limitless bullets and machismo, with a decidedly ‘70s vibe. The FBI agent in pursuit is Melvin Purvis (Ben Johnson), the other protagonist who chomps cigars and has one of his men fit gloves on him before he goes in, guns blazing, in a decidedly feminine dressing-for-show, lady-in-waiting manner. And folk heroes they may become, but Milius doesn’t soft-soap the clumsiness and crudity of the violence, as brutally gun-totingly exciting as it may be, so we are in no doubt these are bad men. "Decent folk don't live that good."

 

It’s these ambiguous touches, an underlying atmosphere of poverty and a seeming paucity of imagination from the characters spotlighted that means that, however much it enjoys the thrill of violence-action, the film is as much interested in social context. Just throwing up a facsimile makes the point. And however much we might be entertained by Dillinger’s bravado in escaping jail with a fake gun, we are always reminded of his egotism and narcissism. It all reaches a peak with the excellent farmhouse shoot-out set-piece, and it does seem that ‘Dillinger’ is a somewhat under-acknowledged exploitation gem, drenched in Depression-era ambience and a still surprisingly brutal edge.

 

 

La Civil

La Civil

Director – Teodora Mihai

Writers – Habacuc Antonio De Rosario, Teodora Mihai

2021 – Belgium-Romania-Mexico

Stars – Arcelia Ramírez, Álvaro Guerrero, Jorge A. Jimenez

 

From the Glasgow Film Festival.

When her daughter is kidnapped by a local gang, Cielo (Arcelia Ramírez) can’t let it lie although everyone takes is as just everyday life in Mexico.

With her daughter opening the film with a joke about Adam and Eve and Mexico being Paradise, the films lays out the religious nature of a culture who are in no illusion that they are living in a Hell, preyed on by cartels. Of course, such a narrow view of Mexico might be problematic as playing on stereotypical conceptions of the country for outsiders, but in the Q&A, Mihai makes it clear that it is based on a real person and stories. The emphasis is unwaveringly on Cielo, her increasing activism and unlikely emergence as amateur detective.

The camerawork is often the smash-and-grab of documentary film, which is Mihai’s background, but even then the focus is always on Cielo. The camera is never leaving this crusading mother’s side, even she joins an army attack on a cartel horror site. The violence is mostly heard as she wanders through the bloodstained rooms looking for her daughter. It is never quite “thrilling” or “exciting” in a superficial way, and in that way circumnavigates exploitation.

One poster has the tagline “Never underestimate a mother’s wrath”, with a gangster pointing a rifle for the kill against the backdrop of an explosion, but this is deceptive packaging as a revenge thriller. It’s feels more like “despair” than “wrath”, even when anger takes her over. Consistently melancholy and contemplative, the tone is not quite as all-out brutal as the unrelenting ‘Helo’, but the bleakness moves into a more conventional ‘Sicario’ rhythms as Cielo joins the military to witness and eventually participate in their questionable tactics. In this way, it follows more conventional thriller beats, but Ramírez’s performance as an unglamourous, average mother keeps things grounded, convincing and gripping throughout its runtime.

The Kitchen

 

The Kitchen

 

Director – Andrea Berloff

Writers – Andrea Berloff - based on the comic book series created for DC Vertigo by Ollie Masters & Ming Doyle

Stars – Melissa McCarthy, Tiffany Haddish, Elisabeth Moss 

 

Andrea Barloff’s directorial debut is an adaption of a DC Vertigo comic set in the ‘70s telling how three abused and/or neglected mobsters wives take over the business in Hell’s Kitchen when their husbands are put away. So, the grounds are there for a look at misogyny, violence, gender relations, etc., and if there are any doubts about its feminist intent, there are endless shots of the ladies striding together to a groovy soundtrack. But there is something that doesn’t quite gel, doesn’t quite convince in motivation: with comics, there is plenty of room for the reader to fill in the lacunas, but Berloff doesn’t quite cohere across the time-jumps. There’s the sense of posturing rather than solidity, that it lacks in fully making sense.

 

Which leaves its three esteemed leads a little hit-or-miss, although Elizabeth Moss comes out least unscathed. Tiffany Haddish becomes increasingly one-note and Melissa McCarthy is left floundering. Of the men, Domhall Gleeson is the most intriguing (though his touted psychopathy is ultimately no more than anyone else). And we don’t quite get a montage of them sexying-up, but they definitely get less home wifey and dolled up the more criminal they become. There’s a fleeting gag about what they should wear to meet an opposing mob boss, but it’s another potential insight barely given air.

 

And there’s not a lot of consequence for all the killing that goes on: for all it spanning of years, it’s not so interested in long-term effects. The problem is we are meant to hold up these ladies as fighting against and besting the masculine world of gangsterdom, but there is little besting or bettering when, for all their womanly smarts and pouts of determination, they are just as ruthless and brutal as the men. Exploitation may get away with self-made Angel of Vengeance assassins, but this isn’t that.  They are not icons, even if the film posits that they are right down to the ham-fisted “outta my way” final moment.

Frightfest Halloween day 4: 'Relic', 'The World we Knew', 'Blood Harvest, 'Broil', 'Cyst'

The World We Knew

Director: WW Jones & Luke Kinner

2020, UK

Writers: Benjamin Jones & Kirk Lake

The concept is Gangster’s versus Ghosts, with a concentration on the psychology. But British gangsters seem to come with that talking in cliché or colourful criminal style that is quickly tedious. Jones and Lake’s script is better than just ugly men snarking, but it’s still a group of criminals talking tough to each other. There’s the young’un, the psychopath, the veteran, etc. The cast is good, though, with what they have. You know there’s going to be speeches about the good ol’ days, about their dad, and there will storytelling and monologuing. Hiding out in a house after a job-gone-wrong, these men have to reckon with the ghosts of their past. It’s not jump scares, it’s about the characters. And then confrontations with ghosts just end up being more tough talk. A slow-burn is fine, but perhaps this depends upon how much you invest in a bunch of near-cliché men being sentimental and/or having a conscience about a reprehensible past. It doesn’t build to anything, but it does have a good endnote.

 

The Cyst

Director: Tyler Russell

2020, USA

Writers: Tyler Russel & Andy Silverman

A gleefully silly creature-feature that reminds of early Roger Corman, or Frank Henenlotter, or  the films like ‘TerrorVision’ released on the Charles Band’s Entertainment (I always had a soft spot for ‘TerrorVison’… not exactly sure why). Set in the Sixties in a clinic where an increasingly off-his-rocker doctor (George Hardy having heaps of fun) treats cysts, it’s limitations are part of the fabric: as with  most mad scientist scenarios, it’s hilarious to think he made such a breakthrough device in his squalid clinic – it’s just a big block of dials and buttons made from whatever sciencey-looking equipment was seemingly left around his garage. The cyst monster is a glorious old-school practical effect with lots of squirty pus and a beachball eye (Russell said in the post-screening interview that about 80% of the effects were practical). A short run time, things kept just this side of zany although continuously ridiculous, with Eva Habermann greatly appealing and up for anything make this a lot of fun.

 

Blood Harvest

Thomas Robert Lee

2020

 

A somewhat generic horror title that does the content only nodding service. Originally called ‘The Ballad of Audrey Earnshaw’, or ‘The Curse of Audrey Earnshaw’, which are far more appropriate. But Alan Jones’ introduction referenced ‘The Witch’, so immediately upping my expectations.

Secretly living as occultists on the edge of a Protestant town, a mother and daughter collide with the community as the daughter’s asserts herself. Eerie things happen and soon it’s more than just crops not growing to contend with. There’s a good portrayal of a town besieged by witchcraft and Black Magic, menace and tragedy become the default with the story perhaps going not quite where you expect it to. Good performances; generational clashes run parallel with clashes with the community which is apposite for a coming-of-age tale; a consistent atmosphere of unease and washed-out tones dominate. I note accusations of loose plotting, but the bubble of dread besieging an isolated community, where seemingly random tragedies build up a bigger whole, is consistently the focus. A quiet, understated horror-drama of a whole town receiving the brunt of a girl’s displeasure. 

Broil

Director: Edward Drake

2020, Canada

Writers: Edward Drake & Piper Mars

Any plot synopsis is likely to spoil ‘Broil’s drift. It starts like a typical high school scenario but the information and story then comes so thick and fast that for a while it’s uncertain what conventions it will follow. It uses many tricks of shuffling perspective and expectation so that when it does settle down, it doesn’t take too long with exposition and keeps up the speed and therefore maintains an entertaining momentum. It’s colourful, smart, and excellently played: one of its successes is that even the minor characters leave a mark. It’s a little more conventional than its razzle-dazzle surface, but it’s always engagingly played. There’s the theme of rich-people-are-different and Family Secrets, but it mostly services as a fun ride peppered with nastiness and a little genre-mashing.

 

Relic

Writer & Director: Natalie Erika Jones

2020, Australia

One of those horrors that is so rooted in relatable, sad and difficult reality – a mother and daughter facing grandma’s apparent Alzheimer’s – that when it slips into genre, you hardly see the joins. Satisfyingly chilling and emotionally authentic that it is no wonder it’s been getting a lot of praise. It has the kind of resonance that people with a narrow view of the genre wouldn’t expect. It uses the uncanny to both indicate illness and the genre: for example, it wasn’t a surprise when writer-director Jones said her grandma lived in a house that scared her. It probably goes without saying that the three female leads are exceptional,. Robyn Nevin's performance is brave and captivating, warm and unsettling, covering the whole gamut. Mortimer and Heathcoat are wonderfully grounded, with the edges between the younger mother-daughter dynamic implicit without obvious dramatic conflict. With an emotional resonance that gives it crossover appeal, even as it sticks to genre and analogy to the very end, this is a gem.