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Writer & Director – Ti West

2022, US

Stars – Mia Goth, Jenna Ortega, Brittany Snow

 

The opening fly-buzz acknowledges ‘The Texas Chainsaw Massacre’: 1979, somewhere in Grindhouse Hicksville, Texas, where a group of people hire a property next to a creepy house owned by creepy old folk to make an arty(?) porn movie. There are no true story surprises, but Ti West is one of the best at capturing not only period look, but the feel of the films being pastiched. Being true to the spirit of its chosen era, it even stops to let Brittany Snow pick up an acoustic guitar for a song.

 

So what it lacks in originality, it makes up for with details like the opening ratio gag, some vivid editing and shooting and crowd-pleasing gore and violence. The first killing unsettles in its length, and other killings are perhaps less impressive and a killing to "Don't Fear the Reaper" is groan worthy, but by that time, a lot of goodwill has been built up by the slow burn, period homage and mood.  It’s true value is in the strength of its characterisation, which is what Ti West is reliable for. Here’s a small band of porn-makers which, typically, would have been annoying sleazeballs, except for the more innocent/reticent wallflower girl. But here the producer guy Wayne (Martin Henderson) is not just a lecherous manipulative hustler, and Bobby-Lynne (Brittany Snow) isn’t just an annoying sex-crazed vamp, and Lorraine (Jenna Ortega) isn’t simply a disapproving thrill-killer in over her head. And there’s a hint of Nice Guy about RJ (Owen Campbell; obviously one to watch with ‘My Heart Can’t Beat Unless You Tell It Too’). There’s complexity to their relationships. It’s layered characterisation, without trying to make them conflicted or apologetic, is quietly subversive. West isn’t sleazy, and although he obviously enjoys exploitation, the quality of the filmmaking – the initial sequence introducing the alligator has been rightly celebrated – and writing rises above just that. But that isn’t to say he scrimps on the nastiness and bloodletting: the first kill is particularly gnarly.

 

But it’s with Mia Goth and her remarkable freckles where the true meat of it emerges. Especially when you discover she plays both Maxine and Pearl. I did not know this going in or realised during. But once I knew this, it only reenforced the themes already obvious, about fear of loss of desirability; about a sex drive outlasting the body. This is a film where getting old makes you murderous when desire and body are no longer in accord. Here comes a bitter old couple, torn between an evangelical television and a group of adults in their prime gleefully making a sex movie. But with the same actor playing both Maxine and Pearl, the picture deepens further: in retrospect, Maxine seems quietly more the disturbed one, snorting drugs and conflating a big sex drive with ambition and fame; Pearl becomes the natural twisted outcome of Maxine’s getting old and not having this satisfied. It's as if this group has been caught in her porny fever dream where, as is the way with slashers, sexual dysfunction emerges as homicidal cum-shots. And without fiercely trumpeting as such, this is a woman’s film (see how the men die first?).

 

This is the truly intriguing stuff, but the film is otherwise simply good slasher fun with superior writing and execution. All this means that already pending prequel, ‘Pearl’, already feels like more than just a cash-in. Although it doesn’t truly transcend its basic genre pleasures, and may be seen as an underachiever for that, it’s certainly exploitation for those that like their horror with reflective pretentions. And did I mention fun?

"Years in Quicksand" - Buck Theorem mini-album

'Years in Quicksand' is the new mini-album I have released. It has the usual electrocrooning, a little soul rending, instrumental diversions, and some moog folk.

YEARS IN QUICKSAND

BUCK THEOREM

 

Panic on the Sofa

Daydream, and I’ll come to you

Chorus for Clones

Do Not Sail

Sword of the Nun

Through the Trees (reprise)

The Greatest Hits of The Big Dream

 

The furniture burn of insecurities, an invitationto escapism, a clone’s bid for independence, a landlocked lover’s cry for renuinion, a crazed love left landlocked on the shore, a virgin blade of vengeance, a return to an alien abduction, a rumination on lost ambitions.

 

“Years in Quicksand” made & played by Buck Theorem in 2021-22, during and after some lockdown or other. Except “Sword of the Nun”: developed from a 4track recording made sometime in the early 2000s.

linktree

Olga

Olga

Director – Elie Grappe

Writers – Raphaëlle Desplechin, Elie Grappe

2021, France-Switzerland-Ukraine

Stars – Anastasiia Budiashkina, Sabrina Rubtsova, Caterina Barloggio

 

From the Glasgow Film Festival.

Fifteen-year-old Olga has promising potential as a star athlete, so when she is exiled to Switzerland because of the volatile political situation in Ukraine – the Euromaidan revolt is brewing – she trains there for the National Sports Centre.

A girl dislocated from homelife and homeland, torn between identities, languages and loyalties, Olga is prime material for coming-of-age drama. Anastasiia Budiashkina’s performance is both solid, a little defiant and battle-worn, vulnerabilities mostly buried behind a stolid veneer. Her teenage conflicts and empathy play out in the focus on being an athlete with her peers whilst the conflicts with Ukraine and her mother are mostly news reports and fuzzy screens. There is plenty to be moved by, but the political and personal sides never quite reconcile, which is perhaps apt for this character.

Arguably, the feats of athleticism are a little compromised by being shot a little too close up and broken up with multiple edits (like most action sequences, mid-shot longer-takes seem best to me for really showing what the artist is doing). But this is a coming-of-drama that runs on understatement and low-wattage and is all more affecting and sharper for that.

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.

Zalava

Zalava

Director – Arsalan Amiri

Writers – Arsalan Amiri, Tahmineh Bahramalian, Ida Panahandeh

2021 – Iran

Stars – Navid Pourfaraj, Pouria Rahimi Sam

 

From the Glasgow Film Festival.

 If I was watching this at FrightFest or Grimmfest, I would have been more sure of where this was going. However, this Iranian drama dresses up in a horror clothing to speak of the dangers of superstitious and blind belief, and one can extrapolate to religious faith, in a way that feels bold in is lack of ambiguity. It's not shy about it's targets

1978: Massound is a gendarmerie sergeant sent to a village in Kurdistan to investigate complaints of being under siege by demonic possessions. But Massoud does not believe in such things, which puts him at odds with the townsfolk, especially when an exorcist gets involved. Soon, the general hysteria infuses every shadow, breeze, creak and empty pickle jar with supernatural potential, not tot mention the cute black cat cameo. The pickle jar is the central macguffin. And the audience will play into that too because, as this a film, anything is possible. The atmosphere is thick with portent and the location is fascinating, and we will not get so deep into the characters, although we don’t necessarily need to. The abstract nature of a person is part of the point.

Ryan Lattanzio calls it “slight”, perhaps with expectations of a more conventional horror. It felt to me more akin to the work of Aharon Keshales and Navot Papushado (see 'Big Bad Wolves'). When a film is the dangers of mob delusion, about the battle between the irrational and rational, I wouldn’t call it slight. Being about man’s hysteria and inclination for lynching, it’s more of a genuine horror than just the spookily inclined drama than I perhaps assumed.

 

Her Way - Une Femme du Monde

 HER WAY

UNE FEMME DU MONDE

Director – Cécile Ducrocq

Writers – Stéphane Demoustier(collaboration), Cécile Ducrocq(screenplay)

Stars – Laure Calamy, Nissim Renard, Béatrice Facquer

 At the Glasgow Film Festival.

A character piece about Marie (Laure Calamy) putting everything into her effort to get her somewhat lost and apathic teenaged son Adrien (Nissim Renard) into a prestige culinary school. It’s the only thing that really seems to focus him, that brings out his talent. The thing is, she’s a sex worker.

It’s a woman’s film which neither presents choosing to be a proud prostitute as liberating or as wrong. It’s more a portrayal of the trials of work life and what you will do for your kids. Marie is laser focused on lifting Adrien from his awkwardness and self-loathing, but sometimes she resorts to shouting and badgering him too much. Perhaps if she stops on this quest, she will have to clearly face her own shortcomings, which she is not about to do just yet. The fiery pride that emboldens her to protest for her profession also frequently puts her at odds with her son. In fact, her maternal determination which is so admirable also makes her increasingly dangerous to others. 

This mother-son stuff is great, rightly the heart of the film and will hit many chords. Laure Calamy and Nissim Renard put in riveting, believable performances, and that’s where the story’s strength lies. The scene where Adrien is sat down to do a dummy interview with his mother’s transvestite lawyer friend is a highlight, loading with swinging sympathies and perspectives, uncomfortable to watch, and ultimately touching. And this scene shows the film is not frightened of showing casual prejudices: there is also the detail of Marie’s racism mixed with her resentment of competition. These are fully-rounded, complex characters that are venerable and sympathetic but not always likeable and frequently frustrating.

Often amusing, always engaging and flighty, you’re likely to be fully onboard in her plight and his fear of failure that you won’t care if the film starts to reveal more stereotypical beats by the end. But the message that, no matter how much you want to help, the individual still has to find their own way and that determination may not be enough is quietly stated and welcome.

Bird Atlas

Bird Atlas

Director – Olmo Omerzu

Writers – Olmo Omerzu, Petr Pýcha

Stars – Miroslav Donutil, Alena Mihulová, Martin Pechlát

2021 - Czech Republic, Slovenia, Slovakia

 At the Glasgow Film Festival.

A droll family drama focused on a ruthless, selfish patriarch of a technology company. He is an irredeemable aging bully and, when taken seriously ill, one son seems to be making his move, the other is a quiet enabler, and the daughter is preoccupied with a new baby. The trouble starts when company millions go missing. Yes yes, a ‘Succession’ scenario, but less gaudy and acerbic and the characters aren’t wholly obnoxious. In fact, there’s a straightforward approach to mundane glass and vanilla set design that is akin to the drabness of soap operas. But there is a bright trip to a snowbound apartment, and one fantastic shot of a blue train going through a snow-white mountain route.

There’s weight when the unappealing Ivo – a stony Miroslav Donutil – momentarily turns into an unlikely anti-hero detective to pursue the mystery and money. Just when it verges on being too dry for its own good, to almost tedium tedium, there’s a touch of the fantastical when birds, via subtitles, start to give philosophical and business observations. And it’s a tale where no one gets what they want and one man’s loveless attitude leaves a trail of unhappiness. A moderate drama that occasionally hits real heights but might be an underachiever. But the Greek Chorus of birds is inspired.

Hellbender

HELLBENDER

Directors - John Adams, Zelda Adams, Toby Poser

2021, USA

Writers – John Adams, Zelda Adams, Toby Poser

 

In the tradition of the best indie horror, this doesn't let a lack of budget compromise imagination and devotion to its ideas. Even its title has broader meaning, not just a superficial hokey-horror signpost: it refers to not only a breed of witches but also the rebel-rock duo the central mother and daughter form to pass-time and as a creative outlet. And the songs and music are highlights, adding fundamentally to the attitude and atmosphere, from defiant rock to deflated indie (drum, bass, sweet/shouty female vocals).

 

Made by the filmmaking gang The Adams Family and friends – if they aren’t in front of the camera, they’re behind it – this exudes the kind of understanding of its limitations and love of genre that prioritises themes, decent performances and a confidence in implication that make indie low-budget so rife with imagination. And which only makes the moments when it goes-for-broke and shocks with effects and offbeat detail all-the-more surprising. It’s already strong material before the delightful surprise appearance of a key.

 

It’s the same story as ‘The Curse of Audrey Earnshaw/BloodHarvest’, but with a modern folk horror take. It’s more ‘In the Earth’ than ‘The Witch’. A mother and daughter live isolated in the woods, contentedly, but the mother is off secretly making spells from nature and the daughter is starting to feel teenage restlessness.

 

Coming-of-age drama and horror are the soulmates, and ‘Hellbender’ benefits from real-life mum and daughter dynamics (Toby Poser and Zelda Adams). Despite the deep kinship they have, as symbolised at first by the band, this is a tale of how the younger generation will always usurp their elders, of how the secrets of a parent ferments rebellion. The resounding horror of ‘Hellbender’ is not just the killings but of the death of a close mother-daughter relationship.

 

For every dozen low-budget clown-faced killer indie, there is one like ‘Hellbender’ that that bristles with ideas and themes, that doesn’t condescend and utilises the genre to go to corners that the mainstream can’t get to.  It keeps a swift runtime and an even pace, padded out with diversions into heavy metal visions and more pensive bildungsroman reveries with indie music videos inclinations.  When it does do special effects, Adams knows to keep the edits curt so that their constraints don’t dwell.

 

Full of surprising detail and solid themes, but never trying to overreach, lots of mood and pretty woodland setting, a great soundtrack, ‘Hellbender’ is an entertaining and fascinating indie horror.

The Medium

Director – Banjong Pisanthanakun

2021, Thailand – South Korea

Writers – Chantavit Dhanasevi (story by), Na Hong-jin (original story by), Banjong Pisanthanakun

Stars – Narilya Gulmongkolpech, Sawanee Utoomma, Sirani Yankittikan

Takes the aesthetic of an unconvincing pseudo-documentary focusing on the eponymous medium, Nim (Sawanee Utoomma) who claims she is the vessel of a female spirit. But this is really about Mink (Narilya Gulmongkolpech), her niece who becomes possessed.

It is clear within the first half hour what this will be, so perhaps you’ll be wondering (a) will there be a twist? and (b) this is over two hours long, so surely it won’t go on like this? But there won’t be, and it does. It lasts long enough for unintentional humour to seep in. Mink is soon doing her best Sadako impression as things go a little ‘Paranormal Activity’ with night vision etc. In the tradition of mockumentaries, it is otherwise handheld camera and talking heads with the occasional intertitle saying the crew have decided to believe all this, for example. Wait, how many cameramen are there? How many angles? Did her workplace just allow a film crew to stand around filming and to film in the toilets? But there is satisfaction in the crew actually stepping in once or twice, becoming increasingly visible and targeted (although we don’t care because they are unknowns). But mostly they just film hysteria and assaults with no one confronting them. When Mink turns on them, it’s a pleasure to see her retaliating against her disintegration and issues being filmed all the time. Ostensibly, it seems to have started out as an investigation of Nim the Medium – and it makes for a traditional horror title – but this is soon abandoned to focus on Mink.

 As far as the possession goes, this is initially dealt with by being draped in string with a finger in a glass of water. For bonus entertainment, as many comments suggest, you can play at taking a drink every time characters say “Mink!”, but you’re likely to be drunk before the pyrotechnics of the last act of the ceremony.  

The ceremony finale involves lots of string, incense, a bull’s severed head (this film won’t win over any dog lovers either), yelling and the obligatory chanting, and bashing some homemade arts-and-crafts. It’s here where things get lively after ninety minutes of Mink acting out. "Mink! Mink? Mink! MINK?!" Of course, at the heart of this, as with so many possession narratives, is a young person being rebellious, going against the strictures of culture. And if the somewhat excessive and somewhat spurious nature of the rituals are anything to go by, there is a lot of rules and strictures to kick back against. Mink becomes antisocial, confrontational, promiscuous, secretive, giving everyone hooded looks or/and creepy grins. Gulmongkolpech is certainly game and having fun and less comical when acting “Evil” than many. This stuff can often drift into amateur dramatics if the context doesn’t support, and ‘The Medium’ does that too, but this is a case where the central actor jerking and leering possession is probably better than the surrounding film. Despite the novelty of the local colour, some flashes of genuine nastiness, and the convincing naturalism of the performers, it is the same old thing.

Yet beneath it all is a more interesting, barely explored tale of this families’ relationship to an ancestral Goddess and how it has affected the filial bond – one sister rejecting the spirit and the other accepting seemingly as a way of obtaining meaning and status. And when at the end it is revealed that Nim isn’t even sure she’s a conduit, in a coda that is meant to make you reassess what’s gone before, it’s obvious that a more fleshed-out domestic tale about women, faith, legacy, this Isan culture, etc., would have provided more weight and distinguishing features.