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.

2021 film review - cinema & festival watches

So, I did go to the cinema a few times this year.

 

The first one to call me back was the cinematic re-run of Scorsese’s ‘Taxi Driver’ which I hadn’t seen in at least a decade and was just, of course, one of the best. At my friend’s invitation, I thought it a great film to return to the cinema with. Earliest De Niro was so good at portraying people that, should you knock and pry, didn’t have so much indoors. By which I mean a troubling absence of a key piece, and this made them scary.

 

…Of course, this rerun was the apparent design of some cinemas to keep things bubbling over by showing recognised classics again. Which was nice and I wish the big chains would keep it up, but this was dropped as soon as the regular schedule was back in force. For a while, maybe...

 

‘Freaky’ (Michael Landon): undemanding genre-savvy fun where, like the ‘Jumanji’ revival, the “body swap” angle proved acres of comedy potential, and Vince Vaughn throws himself in with often hilarious aplomb. Lightweight but entertaining.

 

Aso musing: the gaming in-jokes gave ‘Free Guy’ (Shawn Levy) a lot of mileage, Ryan Reynolds can do this in his sleep without losing your interest, and it was fun but a little too tied to convention to truly break the mould.

 

James Gunn’s ‘The Suicide Squad’ was a film I felt I would enjoy more the second time. It was bold in that, with The Starfish Conqueror and Polakadot Man and many other choices of b-villains, it fully embraced the goofier side of comics that the usual MCU and Zack Snyder aren’t interested in. But Gunn also cares about this superhero world, giving it proper purpose, not just amusement. And on the first watch I cared less for the Starfish Conqueror stuff, but I find myself siding with its goofy gusto.

 

‘Spider-man: No Way Home’ (Jon Watts) was acres of fun and cheered everyone up. Overstuffed to a pleasant degree. Me, I couldn’t quite get past the fact that it all happened on a whim of Dr Strange to help Peter Parker without discussing what the crucial spell would mean until they were in the middle of casting it, causing all the problems; especially as Strange seemingly knows all about the dangers possible (the irreverence and flippancy of MCU superheroes also makes them careless). Just as ‘Homecoming’ (slacker Spider-man thoroughly got me interested again) took from Miles Morales, ‘No Way Home’ took from ‘Into the Spider-verse’ (the best), but all the multi-verse stuff was well handled, the cameos surprising and pleasing, the fight scenes seemed better than usual and, overall, a whole shebang of entertainment. Tom Holland is my favoured incarnation of the webslinger, but the stuff with the others only retroactively made them better, with lots of neat and loving interaction. All the mushy melodrama doesn’t shake me, but there was a lot for fans to be moved by. Definitely better fan-service.

 

I did not see any other superhero films at the cinema except for ‘Shang-Chi and the Legend of the Ten Rings’, which had superior melee sequences, an enjoyably light touch and a neat dragon. We expect effortlessly dazzling CGI special effects (has it taken away the awe?) so physical and well-edited fight scenes are where it’s at.

 

Nia DaCosta’s revival of ‘Candyman’ was overstuffed too, but perhaps biting off more than it could chew at the expense of a streamlined, fully coherent ending. But the conversations around black culture and the history of ghettoization, art and slavery were vital and engaging, using a horror bogeyman as the unleashed Id. It looked great too, even before the end credits shadow-puppet show chilled deeper with real horror than any genre tropes.

 

Ben Wheatley’s ‘In the Earth’ surprised me in how divisive it was: even friends I thought would like it on principle, being Wheatley fans, did not. Again, overstuffed with allusions and homages to Seventies British genre and topped with psychedelica and Clint Mansell’s buzzy score, I enjoyed how it feinted this way and that and thought it would hit better on a second watch and that it would gain reputation more over time.

 

Scott Cooper’s ‘Antlers’ married monster mayhem with family miserabilism. There was the sense that it didn’t quite gel, despite a beautifully desaturated palette and a considerable monster. It was fun in a downbeat way, but didn’t quite excel.

 

For simple, excellently executed monster fun, you didn’t have to go much further than John Krasinki’s ‘A Quiet Place part II’. The ‘A Quiet Place’ formula was for me all about the thrills and chills of the set-pieces over full explanations, and this sequel didn’t mess with that, and in fact felt even more assured.

 

But I wanted more out of Ilya Naishuller’s ‘Nobody’ than just the usual action movie kick-ass fantasies. I was excited to see Bob Odenkirk in this scenario, thinking it may have something to say with him at the helm, but Derek Kolstad’s screenplay didn’t really get past his ‘John Wick’ template.  For that, it was shallow fun and had great bus fight, the equal of that in ‘Shang-Chi’.

_______________________

So I didn’t see so much in the actual cinema and so caught up with new releases through streaming and, of course FrightFest and Grimmfest festivals.

 

Cody Calahan’s ‘Vicious Fun’ was as the label said and colourful, even if it had a protagonist that ran a commentary about things as they happened. And of course, the satirical recognition of genre serial killer types was post-modern anyway, but it had more plot than its frivolous nature perhaps implied. Conor Boru’s ‘When the Screaming Starts’ trod similar territory, also funnin’ with genre tropes but had a little more to say about the derangement of serial killer super-fans.

 

But seriously:

Marc Fouchard’s ‘Out of the World’ was one of those deathly earnest and grim killer films that want to put you through the crusher someway. It proved an evocative, haunting character study. Keane McCrae’s ‘Shot in the Dark’ had similar near-dreamy/nightmarish aesthetic, often a narrative mosaic to relay the fractured nature of mindsets and memory. James Ashcroft’s ‘Coming Home in the Dark’ was another not for the faint-hearted; another gruelling family-under-siege drama that took the Home Invasion outside as a reminder that there is nowhere to hide from past horrors.

 

For straightforward thriller delights, there was Oh-Seung Kwon’s ‘Midnight’, the kind where some physical difference (hearing-impaired) accentuates women’s vulnerability to a serial killer. It proved hugely popular, and South Korea excels at this kind of thing, but for me it started to drag when the point was well made and yet was more cat-and-mouse games to come. Far more interesting to me was Hong Eui-jeong’s ‘Voice of Silence’, this time with the fantastic Ah-in Yoo as a man who inadvertently kidnaps a young girl with his colleague; this is what happens when you’re a clean-up crew for organised crime. Nothing new, but beautifully shot, a little farcical and pleasingly wry.

 

Kyle Rankin’s ‘Run Hide Fight’ proved a little uncomfortable and misfiring in making its high school massacre just a backdrop for another kick-ass revenge fantasy. Meanwhile, Martin Guigui’s ‘Paradise Cove’ was just too pedestrian to be of interest.

 

A film like the impressive ‘Slapface’ (Jeremiah Kipp) pulled together real and imagined horrors, coming-of-age and supernatural, and hit the marks when exploring the consequences of violence and unleashed Ids. In this, was more successful in this than ‘Antlers’. For bildungsroman, Jane Schoenbrun’s ‘We’re all going to The World’s Fair’ was more an articulate portrayal of how fans are self-aware and utilise the genre. It was more a character drama than horror, with an exceptional young performance from Anna Cobb. Also, the fact that it all took place over the internet coded it as a lockdown film, although surprisingly colourful for that.

 

Jeanette Nordahl’s ‘Wildland’ was a more traditional coming-of-age drama with a young protagonist has to battle with fledgling morality and being plunged into a criminal family. No Id’s unleashed here, just the tension and threat that comes with family relations against a drained background and Sandra Guldberg Kampp’s great performance. Michael Meyer’s fun ‘Happy Times’ also played on the horrors and selfishness of family, this time turning a dinner part with a wealthy family into violent farce: the natural end of privilege is to kill to keep what you have… or just from grievance. Yernar Nurgaliyev’s ‘Sweetie, You Won’t Believe It’ was the more rumbunctious violent farce, more broad in its humour, a little suspicious in its gender politics, but also fun.

 

For visual delights, Alexey Kazakov’s ‘Mara’ presented colourful heightened realities, energetic aesthetics and psychedelic visual play to the witch genre. Jaco Bouwer’s ‘Gaia’ was also quite beautiful with a hint of fairy tale, mixing off-the-grid delusion, eco-horror and body horror is a fascinating mix that felt as if it just fell short of its target, although not denying its fascinating quirks.

 

‘Hotel Poseidon’ was also compelling in its set design, as a blacky humoured tone poem about surreal decay; like ‘Delicatessen’ on downers, or an aimless Peter Greenaway. It’s the kind of film to make you want t turn the heating up and to have a bath afterwards.

 

Alexis Brushon’s ‘The Woman with Leopard Shoes’ proved a visual delight too, which was surprising as it centred on just one man in a room (and filmed in his parents’ house) – must have been the black-and-white. Mark O'Brien’s ‘The Righteous’ also had gorgeous black-and-white photography, and one of those Arrival Of The Stranger With Secrets scenarios that always allow for a riveting slow burn. A smart, intriguing script that turns apocalyptic made this stand out.

 

Films such as Lluís Danés’ delightfully theatrical ‘The Barcelona Vampire’ and Francesco Erba’s impressive labour of love ‘As in Heaven, So on Earth’ had a formal daring that showed that these tiny films on the edges are happily and thankfully working outside the conventional, or even neo-conventional. ‘Heaven/Earth’ especially was bold in its insistence in telling its tale in large part with animation, offering both gothic and contemporary “found footage” horror. That the time-jumping and shuffling aesthetics held together and provided some decent frights was all the more impressive. The shadow-play of ‘Candyman’ shows that occasionally these formal tricks can stretch to the mainstream, but mostly its in these outskirts that films go where others won’t.

Then there were films gleefully playing with genre. There was ‘Night Drive’ (Brad Baruh and Meghan Leon), that showed its hand late in the game so the film you thought you were watching… wasn’t. And then there were adaptations of graphic novels that allowed surprises galore in narrative and genre play: David Prior’s ‘The Empty Man’ was a tribute and full-hearted ride through many different facets of horror. And I shall never forget having to go to the bathroom during the first act of Rob Schroeder’s ‘Ultrasound’ (unforgivable, I know) and re-joining it to realise I was in a totally different film, and one I couldn’t wait to see a second time now that I knew what it was.

 

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The topical:

 

Emerald Fennell’s ‘Promising Young Woman’ came over as a usual female revenge narrative, but it was far more complex and colourful than that, frequently and upsettingly usurping expectations and convention. There has been a lot of exciting female-centred genre lately, showing that the horror excels in articulating their experience in particular topics, and ‘Promising Young Woman’ came over as a culmination of the discussion.

 

And Natasha Kermani’s ‘Lucky’ pushed the limits of horror as allegory for this discussion. Writer and star Brea Grant’s previous ‘24 Hour Shift’ (which she directed) had a pleasing and naughty unapologetic edge to her female anti-hero, but this was something else entirely, fully immersed in the anxieties of women constantly under threat of male violence. ‘Lucky’ was also surprisingly moving by the end. These films were a welcome, more thoughtful alternative to murder as feminist statement. Speaking of which…

 

‘Last Night in Soho’ looked like it was muscling in on this too, and it looked great with Wright’s reliable razzle-dazzle, but using ‘Puppet on a String’ to signal the exploitation of the girls’ was not at all subtle, and, ultimately, it was asking us for sympathy for a serial killer. It was a film that, despite the agreeable “nostalgia kills” theme and obvious artistry, seemed undercooked upon reflection.

 

Randall Okita’s ‘See for Me’ seemed to misguidedly let its obnoxious privileged lead off the hook for her despicable behaviour because she was upset about being blinded. It was one of those scenarios where she causes the worst of the thriller dilemmas through her selfishness, but we are meant to celebrate her as an anti-hero and her overcoming, despite the deaths. A film like Ryan Gover ‘The Strings’ showed a film can have a detached female protagonist without insisting we relate and assume they are worthy of empathy.

 

To backtrack a little: ‘Lucky’ was also the kind of film happy to end on the abstract and unsolved, and I found my genre taste moving more in that direction. Because irresolution or/and not quite knowing, that’s a horror too. Jim Cumming’s ‘The Beta Test’ did a similar thing, hinged on another brilliant performance by Jim Cummings. After the favourite ‘The Wolf of Snow Hollow’, Cummings is obviously genre-friendly, but his fascination for the lost men he plays, conflicted between wanting to do good and their innate assholeness and latent violence – means that he’s just as interested in character studies, producing quite fresh horrors. ‘The Beta Test’ was also relevant to the #MeToo and post-Weinstein discussion, an essential peer to Kitty Green’s excellent slow-burner ‘The Assistant’.

 

And speaking of work: Noah Hutton’s ‘Lapsis’ used that reliable low-budget location, the woods, to present a science-fiction scenario that satirised and prodded at the abstract nature of modern work life. People are paid to trail cables through woods to plug into giant boxes for something digital, the quantum trading market. And that simple but direct metaphor for man’s technology desecrating the natural world was just one of its thoughtful ideas. Understated, low-key but germane and timely, its quiet veneer hid a critique just as barbed as a Ken Loach drama.

 

And whilst we’re on this subject, just a mention of ‘Black Friday’ which was a B-monster movie (customers are monsters) that was at its best when letting its staff/victims casually discuss work.

And maybe a little on Covid films:

 

Paul Schuyler’s very home-made ‘Red River Road’ seemed to me to catch the feeling of the sense of unmoored reality during lockdown. And I do mean very home-made: starring his family; named after the street they lived on… a very lockdown film that was impressive by using this to imply an increasingly imploding existence with instructions but without clear definition. Stay out or in? People disappear without explanation? What is all this? Another film where the irresolution seemed essential and chilling. Impressively unsettling and capturing that feeling of introspection spiralling into failing reality.

 

Even more claustrophobic was Alexandra Aja’s ‘Oxygene’. Although a film set entirely within a cryogenic chamber may seem like it will be a chore, the chamber is always active, bright and futuristic, and Mélanie Laurent’s performance always compelling. Of course, there are a few flashbacks (which the trailer of course makes good use of) but for the most part we are entombed. And when it does open out, it’s satisfying, if not spectacular, starting with the intimacy of sci-fi ideas and then getting bigger and bigger. Also it’s a broadening for Aja who, with this film, swapped his typical ruthlessness for humanity with this one.

 

DM Cunningham’s ‘The Spore’ came across initially as an art-horror with little dialogue and pretty takes of that favoured low budget location: the woods. Any film like this will of course immediately be seen for its allegorical affinity to the COVID era; but aside from two characters arguing whether to go outside or not, it’s not a film to be made more poignant by the pandemic context. We know this stuff; it’s why there were studies that showed horror fans dealt better with lockdowns. It got better as it went along, turning into a portmanteau of interconnected tales about a virus creating agreeably goofy practical effects monsters. Those goofy monsters and the initial pretty forest segments won me over.

 

And Ben Wheatley’s divisive ‘In the Earth’ was a Covid film in that it was conceived and made and is set in the time of the pandemic (like ‘Oxygen’). Some were disappointed that the pandemic wasn’t a prime antagonist, but acknowledging this period was more Wheatley’s aim. Besides, it also presented a somewhat passive protagonist that wants to know things and falling into an unhinged world torn between faith and science both trying to know an abstract force, which was surely totally of its time.

 

Films like John Valley’s ‘The Pizzagate Massacre’, ‘Lucky’ and ‘The Beta Test’ also felt of the moment, as well as Jacob Gentry’s creepy ‘Broadcast Singal Intrusion’ for its portrayal of a man spiralling downwards and irretrievably into conspiracy theories. And excepting ‘Pizzagate’ and like ‘The Empty Man’, they all ended in the kind of existential terror that really makes a film haunt. Perhaps a slight open-endedness or vagueness of terror and resolution is a product of very unstable times. It’s the kind of ambiguity you can only find in indies, unless you are Paul Thomas Anderson.

 

John Valley’s ‘The Pizzagate Massacre’ was thoroughly of the moment, and certainly the title directly referencing the Trump period (although called ‘Duncan’). A film looking at those caught up in a right-wing conspiracy cult, looking to humanise some and give them complexity. Starting out seemingly a lot broader, Tinus Seaux’s performance of Duncan supplied the complexity the film aimed for, even as it kept it’s broad strokes. It’s no mistake that the most vacuous and ultimately manipulative characters are of the media. It certainly felt heartfelt and authentic in intention.

 

And that’s what I got to see at the cinema and the bulk of festival watched.

Oh, I left Denis Villeneuve's 'Dune' feeling quite wowed.

Glasgow FrightFest: 'Vicious Fun', 'American Badger', 'Out of the World'

Vicious Fun

Cody Calahan

Writers: Cody Calahan & James Villeneauve

As it says on the label. A horror magazine journalist stumbles accidentally upon a support group for serial killers, and it’s all in-jokes and horror comedy fun from there. These days in the genre, you’re never far from an Eighties setting and the throb of a synth score, and that’s the aesthetic here. It certainly looks good and colourful.  It covers most of the bases of serial killers – even the anti-serial killer serial killer – and, although it is constantly winking to the audience, it never quite becomes obnoxious or overdone.  Evan Walsh’s central performance as Joel the Horror Journalist is the most winkiest of all, always a bit meta: perhaps his almost-obnoxiousness is a gag in itself, but Joel is also definitely a bit Nice Guy; all he needs is a serial killer to point out his dubious ways. And true to the manner of Eighties horror-comedies, it’s a little clunky in places and most of the killers feel a little short-changed in relation to how good the set-up is. But it’s obvious that the film just wants the audience to have a good time, and that counts for a lot. It has good pacing and moves on when one location has been exhausted; there are several good genre gags (“I’m all my stepdaughter has”; killers appearing from nowhere; a summary of the appeal of the horror genre are all favourites); some nice ensemble work; a little industry satire. And the final drive-in coda is a highlight. 

American Badger

Writer & Director: Kirk Caouette

2021, Canada 

We’re in super-skilled-fighter-saves-sex-worker territory here. But that isn’t quite the whole story. Off-the-grid super-assassin Dean (writer-director-star Kirk Caouette) is meant to seduce Velvet (Andrea Stefancikova) to extract what she knows about the Albanian mob boss she works for and then kill her. But he is solitary and isolated, like an American badger, and inevitably this human interaction gets into him and disrupts the plan. 

The tone is lowkey, washed out and downbeat and possibly a bit introspective for some, but it’s more fascinating than, say, Jason Statham’s ‘Redemption/Hummingbird’. Mostly because ‘American Badger’ lets us know very early on that there are going to be great fight scenes, and here are several. Caouette even cuts away from some to follow the story rather than the action. It’s a somewhat hoary premise (three of the eight films I’ve watched at Glasgow Film Festival feature this criminal-man-perhaps-redeemed-by-female: ‘Voice of Silence’, ‘American Badger’ and ‘Out of the World’) but there’s a pleasing fleet-footedness about the pacing, for however downbeat it is, it doesn’t stress one moment too long unless it’s the fights. And it’s those that really stand out, drawing from Caouette’s extensive experience as a stunt man. The capturing of a drab if cluttered world is assured, where call girls are left in poor imitation of Hollywood dreams, where the rooms they and hitmen live in are messy with just rudiments of character, and where clubs and bars are soulless backdrops to fights. There’s a moodiness here and control that shows Cauoette is no perfunctory director either, lifting it up from the average.

Out of the World

Hors du Monde

Witer & Director: Marc Fouchard

2020, France 

The IMDB synopsis is coy: “A shy man who works as a taxi driver because he can't afford to live as a musician, meets a deaf girl dancer who is attracted to him despite his trouble communicating.” But isn’t so long after our cab driver Leo – a gripping performance by Kévin Mischel – falls for Amélie (Aurélia Poirier) that we’re in ‘The Hours of the Day’, ‘Canibal’ (2013), ‘Henry: portrait of a serial killer’ if not ‘Maniac’ territory here: that is, the humdrum daily routine of killer. He lives and works in his car, but he’s also musician, composing melancholic instrumentals on his laptop of the orchestral kind (it’s good). But as so often happens with film killers, he believes murder is his muse. 

Fouchard’s film unfolds at a steady pace and gets increasingly engrossing as the character study deepens. The film stays close to the Leo’s mindset, incorporating interpretive dance as well as his kills – but how many of the kills are real isn’t quite clear, but he’s certainly guilty.  Leo is totally detached and off the grid, unable to socialise normally: dance turns into confrontation and, in an unsettling highlight, he has to hold a woman at knifepoint for dating advice. Leo doesn’t even know how, but Amélie is a mute dancer and these qualities – her disconnect and talent – entice him and gives him the impetus to try. He’s irredeemable – in an imaginary conversation, he doesn’t even let himself off the hook – but his struggle to try and suppress his nature and routine, to learn the gestures of flirting, are disquieting and gripping. He has a hangdog look that belies his murderous nature. 

In the end, murdering to make music is just his excuse: both offer a release for feelings he can barely control; sadness through music and rage through killing (he has mummy issues). It conflates artistry with homicidal nature – a trope of the serial killer genre from ‘Color Me Blood Red’ to Norman Bates’ taxidermy and many, many others - but the music is something Leo could be if he could get past the violence. Which he can’t.

Fouchard’s film weaves a dark spell, a sense of the claustrophobia of Leo’s mind and desires. ‘Out of the World’s deliberate pace demands attention and faith, but the journey to inevitable tragedy – where the film is the most Autumnally colourful – becomes riveting. It’s a strong, unforgettable and beguiling entry in the artistic rather than exploitational end of the Day in the Life of a Serial Killer genre.

Glasgow FrightFest: 'The Woman with Leopard Shoes', 'The Old Ways', 'Run Hide Fight'

 The Woman with Leopard Shoes

Writer & Director: Alexis Bruchon

2020, France

There’s the gialloesque title, a crime plan set-up and a jazz-spy music that raises expectations of a playful crime-film homage. But what we have is more of an Escape Room scenario: he’s stuck in the room with a dead body so how does he avoid detection and get out using just cell phones and letters that he finds?

The black-and-white helps up the stylishness, and it’s fun just watching the burglar figuring things out. Clues are clearly laid out with other people conveyed only by voice, texts and footwear. It follows films like ‘Bait’ and ‘Sator’ in its wholly homemade quality – it’s a family affair with brother Paul Bruchon as the burglar and filmed in parent’s house, etc, and just look at the credits: mostly just Alexis Bruchon, including the music. Another triumph of vision and good writing over resources. Normally this would be short film stuff, but at 80 minutes, ‘The Woman with Leopard Shoes’ stays fun and engrossing throughout. There's fun in watching obvious talent play out.

The Old Ways

Christopher Alender

Writer: Mrcos Gabreil

2020, USA

It starts with a decent shocker and then we’re with a seemingly kidnapped woman who reacts to her situation as if she’s pissed off that she hasn’t been given the right coffee order, as if everything is an affront to her American privilege. And this is our protagonist And she will be way until she goes native and appropriates the Mexican demon-fighting powers. And no matter what ravages she undergoes, she always looks pretty. It's a chamber piece where they are trying to exorcise her of a demon, which surely offers great potential, but aside from being nicely filmed and a decent demon design, there’s not enough here to elevate it above the obvious and predictable.  

RUN HIDE FIGHT

Writer & Director: Kyle Rankin

2020, USA

Zoe (Isabel May) is a troubled teenager, angry and combative after her mother’s death from cancer. All she needs to exorcise her demons and anger is a school shooting where she can vent and use her all-American hunting skills.  

Again, I went into this not having read anything, but the opening scene had all the cues that this was going to be an action-revenge story and that she was going to kick ass. And it was, although far less crude than that. And because I didn’t know what events were leading to, perhaps I got the full benefit of the patient build-up and clues being laid. As soon as the guy dropped the bag in reception, then I knew it was going to be a high school massacre scenario.

In his Q&A, director Kyle Rankin takes a deliberate potshot at Gus Van Sant’s ‘Elephant’, not understanding why that “arty” perspective would be better than this approach, following a young gal trying to fight back. Understandably, he seems a little ticked at the negative responses, but that was always going to happen with this subject. My answer is that ‘Run Hide Fight’ follows movie logic, follows the expected trajectory once all the pieces are in place and is more along the lines of wish-fulfilment. It has a verbose lead bad guy, typical of movie villains, for example, a dig at social media, etc. Van Sant’s approach is far more troubling for being ethereal and objective: they go in, they kill, it disturbs and feels truthful. It’s about the unfathomableness of the event.

For what it’s worth, ‘Run Hunt Fight’ is the least upsetting school shooting film that I’ve seen. Alan Jones calls it “ ‘Die Hard’ in a high school”, and this flippancy is far more on the ball. Of course, there’s room for both Van Sant’s and Rankin’s approach, and that which resonates more will depend on the individual’s taste. Although Kyle Rankin hopes ‘Run Hunt Fight’ opens up conversation on the subject, there is nothing in it that questions firearm laws or mental health treatment, although these are touched upon. In fact, it comes close to the argument that only a good firearm owner can stop a bad shooter. It’s Zoe’s story, which leaves other victims somewhat cannon fodder for her self-actualisation. If you were looking for something a little less arty but no less troubling, there is Mikael Håfström’s ‘Evil’; if you’re looking for exploitation than there’s Miike ‘Lesson in Evil’.

What ‘Run Hide Fight’ does have is an excellent central performance from Isabel May, some nice relationship interplay, a decent portrayal of its school geography, and consistent tension. It’s well paced, performed and entertaining. It makes good use of surrealist touches like a fight in room full of balloons and a slippery corridor and it’s a shame there isn’t more of this cleverness. As it is, this highly inflammatory and emotive subject is given as a backdrop for one girl’s coming-of-age and resolved with a punchline that was set up in the first act, for which apparently there will be no consequences.