Film Notes 2022: other Horrors

I have already written about my genre favourites ‘Deadstream’ and ‘The Innocents’ and many others in my previous Notes, so don’t forget them HERE and HERE.

The first thing about Damien Leone’s ‘Terrifier 2’ is its length: well over two hours for a slasher? Unheard of! But I was never bored, even when it fell into a He’s dead! No he’s not! She’s dead! No she’s not! loop. The overriding issue it presented was that by having an unkillable supernatural killer motivating by coulrophobia and sadism, there was nothing to vouch for, since he was unvanquishable, other than a litany of kill scenes. There was a lot of sibling family stuff to convince you there was humanity in there, but when it could only retreat into magic to resolve its issues, all that was left was sadism and silliness. But the practical effects were impressive and David Howard Thornton truly unnerved in as Art the Clown. And box office popular,

Probably what non-horror fans think horror is: over two hours of sadism and outrageous gore with a magic sword get-out clause.

But Christian Tafdrup’s ‘Speak No Evil’ troubled me in a different way, and I am yet to fully untangle my appreciation from the reservations on that one. I’ll write on it later.

So to other women in the slasher playing field. 

Shana Feste’s ‘Run Sweetheart Run’: Not quite what might be anticipated at first, but a bright and breezy woman-in-peril story updated with contemporary feminist concerns directed by a woman, which is a welcome trend and upgrade to the sub-genre. It’s slick and colourful and aware but doesn’t quite fulfil its promise. The moments of breaking the fourth wall are a little too cute and smug (where he stops the camera from following when he does his worst; he smirkingly does this as, condescendingly and controllingly, he doesn’t want us to see his guilt rather than the camera independently averting its complicit gaze out of respect). The importance of the manipulative, corrupt omnipresent power of the patriarchy is somewhat reduced to secondary when the supernatural takes over. The feminist concerns are mostly resolved in kick-ass fashion, although Ella Ballinska delivers more nuance than just archetype. Entertaining rather than astute.

With an almost sit-com brightness and lightness, Hannah Barlow and Kane Senes’ ‘Sissy’ allows the social runt a little revenge fantasy, as is the genre’s wont. The twist is all Cecelia’s malevolence and psychopathy is hidden behind the surface veneer smile and empowerment of the “influencer” trend (a lively and sympathetic Aisha Dee). ‘Eighth Grade’ goes slasher, sort of. It fails to address the race issue that is visible (they’re white; Sissy is black) but its play with dark humour and nastiness makes this an enjoyable horror farce.

Although relatively straightforward genre piece, Sissy/Cecelia was a relatively complex character. Recent trends have shown the serial killer genre looking in more shaded corners for more nuance, and certainly by centring on women it they show up and criticise the demands put upon and roles expected of women. 

Take Jill Gevargizian’s ‘The Stylist’. The strength of this particular slasher variation is that it’s a centred in a feminine world. The motivation – there’s no explanatory flashback here – seems to be a homicidal insecurity and envy of other, apparently more certain feminine identities (not so dissimilar to the ‘Cabinet of Curiosities’ episode ‘The Outside’). The scalpings are quite matter-of-factly presented and nasty (I think, after ‘Maniac’, that scalpings really get to me) and, although there’s nothing new here, the presentation is clean, vivid and often deceptively casual, distinguished by Najarra Townsend’s excellent performance, swinging from gorgeous to desperate with ease. And Brea Grant is always reliable. A solid contemporised slasher, and somewhere in here is a criticism of the toll it takes choosing and playing the roles expected of women.

Or Joe Le Truglio’s ‘Outpost’, for example, which takes a moment to settle down and make sense, but soon relaxes in to a seemingly straightforward tale of a woman trying to escape a troubled past of domestic abuse by becoming a fire marshal atop a forest lookout. A film unafraid to takes its time, strong on empathy and performances – Dylan Baker as the prickly neighbour and Ato Essandoh as Kate’s taciturn boss were personal favourites. 

It was obvious from the FrightFest Q&A afterwards that Joe Lo Truglio wanted to be as sympathetic to his approach to PTSD with a potentially conventionally conventional thriller, and it is this that distinguishes ‘Outpost’ and motivates as well as allows for its narrative surprises.

And then there was Brea Grant’s ‘Torn Hearts’, in which an average and hokey country music rags-to-riches story finds itself in a Gothic horror scenario in pursuit of that one golden chance and breakthrough. It’s a lot of fun as it becomes increasingly unhinged with three great central performances – with Katey Sagal the standout, making the most of her role without going full ham. Brea Grant proves again that she is a solid brand.

Dario Argento gave us ‘Dark Glasses’. We are at the stage with Argento where there are not any impressive set-pieces to offset the daftness. Admittedly, I find Argento films unintentional comedies, so I am not the one to come to for maestro love. And this is no different (excepting  ‘Suspiria’, which I do love). Dodgy “blind” acting; dodgy police procedure; “Let’s hide in the reeds!” and the water snake attack with the following road fight, is notably comedy gold. Unconvincing. But funny.

Ti West’s ‘X’ was the favourite, proving again that vivid execution can elevate a homage. West recreations of horrors from previous era never feel condescending or fawningly fanboyish, but rather meticulous and loving like the care taken to make miniatures.  

Similarly, where one in five genre films seem to be homages of some kind, John Swab’s ‘Candy land’ proved most impressive. even though you feel you might catch some some very nasty germs or a STD just by watching it, and even though it’s explicit, it never quite feels sleazy. But it IS gory and a shocker. One of those films that IS the era rather than just pastiche, but with a modern sensibility. Well played and effortlessly engrossing, it’s got its subversive side in that it’s not the blasphemous sex workers that are the unhinged.

There was also a nice Seventies vibe to Scott Errickson’s ‘The Black Phone’. Popular and a little tonally imbalanced – from vivid and shocking teenage bullying violence to ‘Goosebumps’ level ghostly apparitions – it was nevertheless enjoyable. 

The other more mainstream horror favourite was Parker Finn's ‘Smile’. We know this stuff and perhaps the promise was of something a little different, but it does this well. (Have to agree with AlfredAngier that this is a good movie with a bad one trying to overpower it - but it never does.) It’s horror fun, well-executed with many memorable images and genuinely unsettling with its nightmare monster feeding on trauma. Its problematic subtext of suicide/mental illness as a supernatural virus is one that the film doesn’t seem self-aware of in its superficial thrills and genre tropes.

Quietly smug and smart, ‘Bodies Bodies Bodies’ by Halina Reijn was a horror satire highlight. Fun with slasher tropes at the expense of privileged obnoxious teens, typical of the genre, where the greatest threat is their own pettiness and egos. Colourful, entertaining, full of knowing performances and satirical enough to raise a smirk.

Also of note was the Adams family’s ‘Hellbender’, building oin the genre promise of ‘The Digger You Deep’. The Adam’s family have proven that they make reliable horror of ideas, atmosphere and attitude  rather than budget. 

And Kate Dolan’s ‘You Are not My Mother’. Where mental illness is a monster from folklore. But the film’s true power is in the portrayal of the streets of a friendless, grey, unforgiving world that is as tangible as Ken Loach. The allegory is obvious but not hammered home (something the wonderful ‘Hatching’ was guilty of), and it is the young resilience of Hazel Doupe and the broken/crazed performance of Carolyn Bracken that strike emotional chords. This is the place where the shabby mundane meets the supernatural without a blink, undermining family stability. This is an excellent example of the special place horror traverses between the nightmares of reality and fantasy.

And ‘The Deep House’. Directors Bustillo & Maury are always worth watching, and are particular good with location and set-up and above average with characterisation. This is no different, being Underwater Haunted House, and played for all that's worth with many memorable images and much creepiness. But, just like their 'Among the Living', there's the sense that it ends up a little too average although there's a lot of flair, technological and otherwise.

Then there was the surprisingly good entry into the Predator franchise in  Dan Trachtenberg’s ‘Prey’. 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.

Oh, and Mark Mylod's 'The Menu'. Although you will go in knowing the nature of the beast, there's enough unpredictability to keep you at the table and the sprinkling of social commentary adds a little substance. Mostly, it's an enjoyable enough Mad Chef tale.

And there were others, but I reckon I am done here. 

The only film that I actively disliked was the Soska Sister's ' 'On The Edge', I'm afraid. Aramis Sartorio gives his all while the Soskas pose and pout their performances. Any message about female empowerment is filtered into sadism-revenge fantasy as a family man that books a dominatrix in a hotel gets more than he bargained for. This sadism-revenge agenda also guided the Soska’s far superior ‘American Mary’ but the body-horror fascination there is replaced by two-bit Catholic morals here. Anal rape is the main source of humour. But even more egregious is the badly recorded diagetic dialogue and amateurish sound mix that makes much incomprehensible. Which is problematic for a film that is constantly talking at you. Eventually it devolves into strobe lighting and bible verse and a simplistic morality play that makes a nonsense of any of its transgressive and feminist intent.

Look to 'Promising Young Woman', 'The Beta Test' or even 'The Special' for more nuanced, troubling and fun interrogations of these themes.

So the first film I saw I saw at the cinema in 2023 was 'Enys Men', so that's off to a good start. That was after I started this year with a week of COVID, which turned out to be a fully enjoyable binge-watching era, because I couldn't manage to do anything else.

2021 Film review - Home screen

And…

 

Some of the films below might actually be more 2020, but I was only aware of them last year, so indulge me as I am sure there is some overlap, especially with the NetFlix/Prime titles. They’re kinda current anyhow.

 

What really struck me about Thomas Vinterberg’s excellent ‘Another Round’ is how it reserved judgement and showed alcohol being an enabler of confidence. This, just as much as apparently essential for a good time, was shown to be intrinsic to its addictive qualities. A group of teacher friends decide to become alcoholics by using the pretence of an experiment about alcohol consumption. This criticism of Danish drinking culture was like a needle slowly being pushed in. That it ended on a note of exuberance seemed to have left some thinking it was a feel-good conclusion, but that surely neglects all the subtleties planted throughout. After all, drinking is associated with good times and I didn’t find anything conclusive come the deceptive jubilation of the ending.

 

Emma Seligman’s ‘Shiva Baby’ had a crackling script and really tapped into that most stressful context: the official social gathering. Conflicts of the demands of tradition and generation rule: young people playing parts to get through the scrutiny of the older generation. A touch of farce underpins it all, as does the comedy of embarrassment, but its humour is wry and sly, its cultural observation empathetic. Best and contrarian of all, it’s scored like a horror film by Ariel Marx, playing up the anxieties of these occasions.

 

Jane Campion’s ‘The Power of the Dog’ was a slow burner, pretty to look at and full of set pieces that showed bullying without resorting to typical displays of violence. How it destroys confidence and starts resentment festering. Full of mind-games, innuendo, repression, and things left unspoken. Perhaps Johhny Greenwood’s often discordant score should have been a clue to the film’s insidiousness and long game. Armond White’s conclusion of the film and Jane Campion’s of homophobia is surely wrongheaded in that it neglects character agency and that their behaviour is borne from the environmental misogyny and repression. It also features two excellent performances by Benedict Cumberbatch and Kodi Smit-McPhee. 

 

J Blakeson’s ‘I Care a Lot’ was a bone fide provocation with the sheer amorality and immorality of its characters. But therein was a critic/condemnation not only of the system the capitalist characters exploit, but of how happy audiences are with the conmen struts in cinema. And Rosamund Pike plays her villainess with shallow charm and relish that asks, really, why would you root for her machinations? It was also to include the complicity and enablement in its target range.

 

Kitty Green’s excellent ‘The Assistant’ was another film with slow-burn and insidious designs. It told of just another workday of the assistant to a powerful executive, but was really a portrayal of the daily enablement and complicity in bullying, exploitation and abuse – and being overworked was the least of it. It was the muffled scream to ‘Promising Young Woman’s yell, although its commitment to its just-another-day agenda surely bored some. But that’s the point: its all-pervasive and the normalising of maltreatment.

 

Michael Sarnoski’s ‘Pig’ also contained an admonishment of the soul-destroying nature of work. The best scene, for me, was when Nicolas Cage quietly but thoroughly reminded a former employee of the dreams and ambition he had once had, the kind ground out of you. Mostly, it came as a great character piece and subversion of the typical revenge pic.

 

Xiaoshuai Wang’s ‘So Long, My Son’ was also a slow burn, focusing on the effects of China’s “One Child” policy and the lifelong effect of a loss of a child. But I wasn’t quite prepared for the realisation that over its three-hour runtime it had thoroughly sunk its claws into me, and that it achieved such an emotional effect on me that I found myself aggressively wishing for a happy ending. Which never happens (I go with the flow to see what’s to be said). It has a naturally cluttered look, increasingly affecting performances, a little tricky with its temporal play, but ultimately a very moving and reflective film.

 

Adam Mackay’s ‘Don’t Look Up’ was perhaps too cartoony as a satire to be properly upsetting or chilling, and it was preaching to the choir, but it still contained enough to upset snowflake Right-wingers. And anyway, accusing a political portrayal as “too cartoony” seems redundant in an era still suffering from Trumpism. Ultimately, it posits that current American MSM perniciousness and shallowness will be an extinction event. It would make an interesting double-bill with ‘The Pizzagate Masacare’.

 

In fact, although it came over as just another action flick, Ric Roman Waugh’s ‘Greenland’ probably proved a more upsetting end-of-the-world drama. Certainly, the separation of parents from kids was easily more emotionally worrying – it is the scene where they’re trying to get on the plane that stayed with me most. It proved surprisingly enjoyable and well-executed for your typical family-in-peril apocalypse.

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And now to dramas through a horror lens:

 

Of which Rose Glass’ ‘Saint Maud’ was a favourite. Another drama of female mental instability with great performances by Morfydd Clark and Jennifer Ehle. Dull English coastal towns played up for their dilapidated charm, with eeriness and tension on display. We know Maud’s trajectory will not be a good one, what with religious delusion taking hold in an attempt to control trauma, but how long it will take is another matter. And leading to an unforgettable and harrowing finale.

 

The underground favourite was Jonathan Cuartas’ ‘My Heart Can’t Beat Unless You Tell It To’. One of those films that puts vampire rules in downbeat, grubby neo-realist context. This time, the focus is on family dynamics and as the older siblings of a young, naive blood drinker turn serial killers to feed him. It’s emphasis is more on the gloom of sadness and loneliness than horror flourishes. With the title song providing all the lush emotional release the characters don't have, its dour tone, smart execution, editing, the excellent performances and enough twists make for a compelling domestic horror.

 

Pascual Sisto’s ‘John and the Hole’ was also interested in the horror of family dynamic, but in a way reminiscent of Yorgos Lanthimos. That meant that the family insisting on returning to normal was the open-ended chill. Unsettling drama (one of the key questions is how "horror" this will get) that is ultimately about the performance of family dynamics as 13-year-old John - a compelling and near-inscrutable creepy-sweet performance by Charlie Shotwell - tries to play out one of his offbeat questions: what would it be like if the family weren't around? Perhaps too ambiguous for its own good in the end, but fascinating and always intriguing. Horror is other people, when their oddness gets out of hand.

 

And back to the distressed and mental health of women:

 

Of course, there was ‘Promising Young Woman’ and ‘Lucky’ but the other favourite was Prano Bailey-Bond’s ‘Censor’. The premise was catnip for genre fans: a censor cracks up in the Eighties’ video nasty period. The certain British Eighties grubbiness is well represented and then homages to the genre take control. Hey: in the woods! It was a vivid example of horror homage: combining the genre's close affinity to trauma and nightmare logic and aligning the 80s "Video Nasty" censorship with delusion, denial and repression. Ratio changes, a touch of giallo and Niamh Algar's flinty central performance make this both smart and playful.

 

Falling short of hitting the mark in the same area were ‘Knocking’ and ‘The Strings’. And they both began with gorgeous beach shots: ‘Knocking’ was as gorgeously summery as ‘The Strings’ was gorgeously bleak.

 

Frida Kempff’s ‘Knocking’ had the promising premise of a woman recovering from a breakdown besieged by knocking in the apartment block where she is placed. Now, knocking is just frightening (I learnt this from Robert Wise’s ‘The Haunting’ when at a tender age), but the knocking here is distressing rather than frightening. Cecelia Milocco's committed, nuanced performance holds it all together, its exploration of a woman's fragile state being constantly under siege by real or imagined urgencies and the horror of being disbelieved rang true enough. Yet, despite its shorter run-time, it leaves its audience as much running in circles as the distressed protagonist, doesn't quite follow up on some points and - being so focused on her dilemma - the answer almost comes as an after-thought; or at least at her expense. Too much build-up and too little pay-off?

 

Ryan Glover’s ‘The Strings’ made knocking scary, but ultimately didn’t seem so interested in its horror feints. Certainly our protagonist didn’t seem to be so bothered, just inconvenienced by them maybe. Instead, there were plenty of nice scenes of her making music, which anyone making DIY tunes will relate to. There is a great soundtrack and presence by Teagan Johnston (the kind where any shonky acting doesn’t matter) but when the spooky stuff happens - and it takes a loooong time to kick off - it mostly comes to nothing as Catherine barely engages with the supernatural side of the narrative: there's a tendency to cut away from heightened moments to the everyday stuff with the impression that nothing really has any resonance. It has desolate prettiness and great DIY music moments but ultimately doesn't let the supernatural say anything about the character drama.

 

For male madness, there was Amber Sealey’s ‘No Man of God’, a drama based around FBI analyst Bill Hagmaier’s interviews with Ted Bundy. As Hagmaier, Elijah Woods initially seemed cast a little against type but provided a career best. As Bundy, Luke Kirby gave a convincing portrayal of a man whose charm has been much wrongly aggrandised. It was a solid drama that always kept the victims as foremost in consideration, with most of the drama coming from Bundy not coming clean. Not much glorification or exploitation here.

 

 

To fantastical horror:

                                                                                       

Alejandro Fadel’s ‘Murder Me, Monster’ was the first film I saw in 2020 (although it was 2019, I think?) and proved quite unforgettable. It’s slow burn and slightly offbeat approach to its tale of a possible monster fixed to the symmetry of nature was not presented in a usual fashion. It was more like ‘Once Upon a Time in Antonia’ than even your typical smouldering moody horror (e.g. ‘Sator’). Wilfully cryptic, but there was a monster and, boy, what a monster!

 

Brandon Cronenberg’s ‘Possessor’ was a total shocker and immediate favourite. As clinical as his father’s early work, but slick and confident, disturbing and highlighted with vivid violence and practical effects in a way that felt distinctly his own. Technology, terrible violence, big business conspiracy, identity crises, psychopathy, faltering identity and reality, slightly abstract and thoroughly visceral… Chilling and thrilling.

 

And surely few would argue that Jordan Graham’ ‘Sator’ was an impressive piece of work, handmade almost totally by himself over seven years. Here was a film that thoroughly exploited the “banging is scary” that I mentioned earlier. But there were moments where it reminded me as much of Tarkovsky as the cabin-in-the-woods genre. Built from his grandmother’s genuine belief in a supernatural entity watching over them, the mood and the frighteners are consummately executed, the mystery maintained and resulted in a superior horror mood piece.

Another small-scale winning horror was Damian McCarthy’s ‘Caveat’, which was full of eerie images and creepiness, unsettling and somewhere between Gothic and contemporary, supernatural and psychological horror. Definitely left an impression from the moment I started smiling at the genre delights of an amnesic protagonist and “didn’t I say it’s on an island?” and “didn’t I mention you’ll be chained up?” It’s darkly amusing when a protagonist doesn’t know he’s in a horror film.

 

But if you were looking for bonkers, trashy genre, then you couldn’t go too far wrong with Richard Shepard’s ‘The Perfection’, which started out in one place and then twisted and turned until it was unrecognisable as the same film by the end. It’s a film where you just go along for the ride and you soon stop saying “Wha…?” Not as artful as, say, ‘The Handmaiden’, but fun nonetheless.

 

Bryan Bertino’s ‘The Dark and the Wicked’ was slick enough, but a little lax in its internal logic. Similarly, Kimo Stanmboel’s ‘The Queen of Black Magic’ seemed to lack a magic ingredient that made the most of its setting and premise. And I also enjoyed Anthon Scott Burn’s ‘Come True’ less than others. It had atmosphere but it’s not often that ending won’t come as a source of frustration for me. These were films very much stronger when building up.

The simple genre pleasures of Corinna Faith’s ‘The Power’ were less disappointing, surely because I went in with lower expectations. A great location in the old hospital distinguishing it and a somewhat clunky feminist subtext (well, not so much sub) notwithstanding. Peter Thorwarth’s ‘Blood Red Sky’ was enjoyable enough but also felt like it should be that much better, hampered by angst and unnecessary flashbacks that got in the way of its vampires-on-a-plane premise.

 

But then there were thorough losers for me. Jason Howden’s ‘Guns Akimbo’ never left its look-at-me! adolescence into something self-aware and genuinely smart, which was a shame because I enjoyed Howden’s ‘Deathgasm’. Not nearly as egregious but also not-so-good was also Joe Carnahan’s ‘Boss level’, even if it had time-loops and video game action.

 

There was the Nicolas Cage twofer Sion Sono’s ‘Prisoners of the Ghostland’ and Kevin Lewis’ ‘Willy’s Wonderland’. ‘Ghostland’ was often just busy doing nothing and angsting when it should have been moving. ‘Wonderland’ wasn’t as much fun as it thought it was and seemed happy to coast on It’s Fucking Nicolas Cage! For his part, Cage’s happy embracing of the absurd was totally appropriate for these films, and it’s remarkable that he could go from this to ‘Pig’ without missing a beat. The difference being Cage the fanboy pop-phenomenon and Cage the actor.

 

Josh Ruben’s ‘Werewolves Within’, however, won me over. Its comedic tone initially didn’t click with me, being very much characters screeching at each other as if insisting on their funniness. But when it ultimately turned to be a tirade against the eponymous selfishness, I was fully on board. It’s a bit scrappy, but it has enough whodunnit?! playfulness, wit and self-awareness, and good intention that it does a good job of charming past its weaknesses. Not bad for a video game adaptation.

 

And another film that proved itself just by getting on with being happy with what it is, and also better than its title promised, was Michael Matthews’ 'Love and Monsters’. A likeable sad-sack lead in Dylan O’Brien, a romcom-horror premise – he sets out across the monster infested distance in search of a girl he fancies – and enough sense to let the monster element mitigate any romcom triteness, it was a charmer.

 

And in other otherworldly dilemmas, there was ‘Chaos Walking’, whose gimmick of thoughts bursting out loud constantly – for the men, at least – should have but didn’t sink it for me. Rather, it was a decent Western-style sci-fi of the Young Adult variety. Decent in that it was easy to watch, looked good and you can’t go far wrong With Tom Holland, Daisy Ridley and Mads Mikkelson. But despite the Heard Male Thoughts gimmick, although thwarting possible romantic interludes, the prodding at themes of machismo doesn’t do so more than superficially (I haven’t read the source book, Patrick Ness’ ‘The Knife of Never Letting Go’ but one provocative subplot seems to be that all the women were murdered because the men couldn’t bear their thoughts being overheard all the time).

 

Far more curious and impressive was Christopher Caldwell and Zeek Earl similarly Western-inclined ‘Prospect’ (this one was 2018). It turned that favoured low-budget location of a forest into an alien planet just by having bits floating in the atmosphere. This was not a film of big effects but was pretty and focused on the dilemma of a teenaged girl fending for herself when marooned in a world peppered by mercenary prospectors. Immersive and interested in story and atmosphere rather than dazzle.

 

Chino Moya’s ‘Undergods’ was also heavy on atmosphere, but this time we were in a futuristic-ish European Dystopia, the kind so washed out and beak that you’ll be inclined to remember it in black or white. It was a bundle of connecting stories about how shit life can be, but also intriguing tales of family and exploitation that had hints of fables about them. There was a sense that this was only a glimpse of this world, that this was the outskirts, and the fact that there was a desire to see more surely meant it hit many of its targets.

 

But when it came to fantasy, it was David Lowery’s ‘The Green Knight’ that proved a most wonderous interpretation of the genre, inhabiting a touch of everything. Introverted, yes, with a measured pace and agreeably down-to-earth with a sense there were real feelings and anxieties to these archetypes. Yet quite happy to do bigger flourishes with wandering battleground aftermaths and giants. Monsters. Talking animals. Pretty fantasia. Gothic shadows. Mystery. Thoroughly beguiling.

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Some Favourite Moments

 

Mads Mikelson dancing in ‘Another Round’

The opening pre-credits sequence of ‘The Empty Man’

The opening of ‘The Beta Test’

The restaurant scene in ‘Pig’

The horror score in ‘Shiva Baby’

The shock of ‘Possessor’

The emotional impact of ‘So Long, My Son’

Giants walking in ‘The Green Knight

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’.

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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.