Film Notes 2022 part 2: Borderline genre & mash-ups

Film Notes 2022 part 2: Borderline genre & mash-ups

Or rather, films that used genre flavouring for other concerns.

There were two pandemic horrors of note.  Alfonso Cortés-Cavanillas’ ‘Ego’ took a thoroughly locked-up approach. 19-year-old Paloma is suck in Madrid lockdown and still getting over her breakdown. However, she seems a typical brattish young woman until she seems to be victim of identity theft by a doppelgänger.

Unless we don’t get the point, “Girls Just Wanna Have Fun” is a constant motif, but it’s soon apparent that beneath Paloma’s bullish exterior, there is a troubled soul. María Pedraza’s remarkable performance only gets more involving and devastating as Paloma feels that her identity, her reality is being threatened. By herself. And no one will believe her. A supernatural peril or a portrait of increasing mental instability, the film carefully maintains ambiguity – ‘Repulsion’ is an obvious comparison, but there are moments when it verges on ‘Insidious’ style scares – and it really doesn’t matter. What matters is that, as Paloma gets into more of a state, you suddenly realise that you are likely just as unnerved for no good reason – which is exactly her plight and distress.

Not only a horror incorporating the digital world but also a bona fide lockdown drama using the horror genre to empathise with the mental health crisis running alongside as a direct result of the pandemic years. Some may begrudge that there is no big showdown, but the film ends with something more insidious and heart-breaking. And the final symbolism implies this is just one of many.

And then there was Andy Mitton’s ‘The Harbinger’, an exceptional downer and unnerver. Horror being the perfect genre for expressing the personal and global anxiety and terror of the pandemic. ‘The Harbinger’ starts with standard ghost/demon spooking, but as it goes on its use of dreams and despondence gets increasingly sophisticated so that it becomes apparent that the film is after deeper existential horror.

Rooted in crucially warm and believable performances, the failing reality and psychological threats are layered on to capture the dread and fear of the early pandemic years, especially the psychological toll. It proves itself something truly haunting and captures that sense of being at a loss and losing all the time which defined that period.

Then there was Arsalan Amiri’s ‘Zalava’, which I saw as part of the virtual  Glasgow Film Festival programme. 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 initially assumed.

Luca Guadagnino’s ‘Bones and All’ was a genre-blender that allowed you to lean on whichever side you preferred: horror, road movie, young adult angst, romance, adventure, indie downbeat ramblings, etc. Of course, publicly it tried to underplay the first, but all its cannibal moments were genuinely gruelling and genre satisfying. 

Jean Luc Herbulot ‘Saloum’ was equally a genre mash-up, this time of lowlife crime, disenfranchised cult communities and then demons. African mercenaries extract a drug lord from Guinea-Bissau and hide out in Saloum, impersonating good guys – a storyline that takes up a majority of film, featuring flashbacks, a clean and bright veneer and gruff, macho striking performances. They’re compatriots and blood brothers, but there’s still distrust and suspicion. Then revelations ensue and increasingly the film shows itself to be a heady mash-up of genres that nevertheless doesn’t lose any hold on its forward-momentum, careening right through.

Bright and quite unique in tone, with picturesque vistas, flashbacks, tough guy plotting, mercilessness and gunplay, folklore and regional history effortlessly segueing into demons that look like gatherings of swarms. Another example of cultural specifics and genre blending giving traditional horror new angles.

Although ostensibly a biopic based on Marilyn Monroe – although the makers would shrug at this – Andrew Dominic’s ‘Blonde’ was troubling. Monroe through a disturbed/disturbed lens that often felt like a Lynchian Hollywood nightmare. Much to commend, not least its black-and-white aesthetic, but also to doubts it intensions as it leered a little hard into exploitation. 

Mariama Diallo’s ‘Master’ did not quite gel for me. It hits many of the right beats in build-up but doesn't quite resolve it's mash-up and conflation of underlying racism and the supernatural. And all the subplots end in defeatism without any real insight other than "it's everywhere", or "it's America" to what feels like little purpose or catharsis.

More successful with its verge-of-horror drama was Nikyatu Jusu’s ‘Nanny’, in which a nanny’s guilt at being an absentee parent seemingly allows the presence of something supernatural to exert its influence. Just a little. Or maybe she’s just losing it under the strain, ever so slightly. Leaning psychological rather than supernatural, Anna Diop’s performance is captivating in its pride in the face of exploitation and taking on the domestic troubles of her privileged Manhattan employers. Rina Yang’s cinematography is appropriately décor magazine crisp, and the sound design maintains the consistent unease. As a horror-inflected film about work-life, it’s chock full of themes such as privilege, exploitation, maintaining pride and that guilt, etc. Impressively proving again that there is nowhere the genre cannot go to use its tools to shine on the everyday horrors of existence, whether existential or not.

Then there were genre odd couple dramas with genre contexts, like ‘Something in the Dirt’ and ‘Next Exit’.

‘Something in the Dirt’ was another wonderfully heady offering from the Moorhead & Benson duo. What starts seemingly as a couple of guys find incredible phenomena in their LA apartment, which thy then intend to document/exploit, unfolds into full-scale conspiracy theorising and increasing sadness. Filmed by the duo and producer during lockdown, again it’s the stacking up of ideas that engross (morse code in fruit!), but their evocation of male relationships are always excellent. As an vocation of thinking you have something wold-shattering that you can't quite reach so head into conspiracies and delusion, it stands as a striking analogy. 

From the first flush of friendship to the moment where the more you know of someone, the more you can hit your target when you criticise, they excel at providing deep characterisation so that even their arguing during mid-phenomena doesn’t strain credibility.

Mali Elfman’s ‘Next Exit’ presented a world where the existence of ghosts has some scientific proof, a mismatched couple head across the country with the intention of giving up their lives to further study.

Despite the supernatural/sci-fi backdrop (and a fine creepy opening), this is mostly a road trip of two central brilliant performances of an odd couple going through existential crisis. If it perhaps becomes a romcom for horror fans, the characters and performances convince hard, with a lot of humour and pathos on the way.

Even a more minor film like Jacob Gentry’s ‘Night Sky’ offered another well-acted odd couple. It reminded me of the likeable VHS sci-fi thrillers of the Eighties. Like ‘Next Exit’, another slow-burn road movie with good central performances this one is like 'Starman' crossed with 'No Country for Old Men'; although Alan Jones namechecks road movies from the '70s. With the thriller element in play, the narrative keeps moving until the canyon and bright lights finale, and up until then its proven decent if not quite profound entertainment. Includes a decidedly nasty, pontificating hitman and Brea Grant effortlessly doing "innocent".

If magic surrealism/oddness was what you were after rather than genre mash-ups, then there was Quentin Duprieux’s ‘Incredible But True’. Accessible Duprieux comes in a satire of magic realism that doesn’t feel the need to go further than a limited time portal in your house and an iDick to illustrate human absurdity. In this case, how people will go to extraordinary lengths and delusions to keep up gender constructs of youth and desirability. Light, easy and surreal, this is not quite the divisive film I anticipated as it's fun with a little cruelty to spice things up.

More oddness: Nikias Chryssos’ ‘A Pure Place’ pretty soon reveals itself as a cult narrative, but there’s a lot of offbeat edges that leave it a slippery beast, such as Jodorowsky, a nod to magic realism, a hint of ‘The City of Lost Children’. On a Grecian island, a delusional man has created his own narcissistic religion and class system with homeless orphans working below and white-wearing upper class above. They earn money by making soap, which fits Furst’s fascistic obsession with cleanliness. Furst’s mixture of unforgiving fascist classism mixed with Hygenia as its God makes for a credible belief system (and no telling how ugly it would all be if race was a factor), topped with Romanesque pomp and theatre.

Beautiful imagery, courtesy of the Greek island and heightened set design, and layered with themes of exploitation, delusion, class, abuse, etc.; but it leans towards fairy-tale rather than horror in its tone. Indeed, there’s a permanent doubt of just how much this is set in the real world, being somewhere between Lucile Hadzihalilovic’s ‘Evolution’ and Ariel Kleiman’s ‘Partisan’; and even the poverty magic realism of ‘Tigers are not Afraid’. The acting highlights are Sam Louwyck’s performance as Furst, his natural dancer’s tendencies giving the character an innate elegance and charm, and young Claude Henrick’s feisty turn as Paul.

Intriguing, entertaining, sunny, slightly ethereal and slightly disturbing, the tone is one where lacunas barely matter. Certainly, in discussion, Chryssos talks of its grounding in real cases of cults, but the tone is not one that relies on veracity. A curio which maintains its oddness to the very end, where escape is a strip joint.

Mark Jenkins’ ‘Bait’ was a sensation in its DIY formation. His follow-up ‘Enys Men’ is similarly constructed with a clockwork Bolex camera and an even more audacious post-production sound design comprised of often sharp diegetic sound and blaring drone. (If there is any evidence is needed more that lazy jump-scares are simply results of volume, see if you jump and innocuous Cornish landscapes because the music here blasts out.) The feel is of a 70s folk horror with bold colours, some print flares and speckling, and this is intrinsic to the success of its feel. What seems to be the tale of a volunteer on an unpopulated Cornish island taking the temperature of some flowers and dropping a stone down a mine shaft gradually evolves into something inscrutable, fascinating and disquieting. Past and present seems to increasingly overlap and, for me, her world became a lost continent of ghosts. If it hits your buttons, it’s a superior horror-inflected ambient mood piece. Mike Muncer (Evolution of Horror) calls it ‘Penda’s Fen’ meets ‘the Lighthouse”, and that’s a fair description. 

But it was Andrew Legge’s ‘LOLA’ that really wowed me. Hugely impressive and inventive alternative history filmed with a Bolex camera and vivid imagination, blended with reimaged historical footage. A  highlight is the music by Neil Hannon, reinventing popular songs for this alternative reality. It's all thoroughly convincing. The scope the film is able to achieve is wide, with the skill to hand to make it work while formally playing with the medium. Quietly stunning, provocative and a highlight.

FILM NOTES FOR 2022: coming-of-age, animations and out there offerings

Eh, delayed with my notes on 2022 screen offerings because I was dealing with a second bout of COVID. But rest assured I used the time well to do nothing but binge watch. There's nothing like being forced and not wanting to do anything but watch fun stuff. 

Anyway...

C o m i n g  o f  A g e

Coming-of-age dramas offered the usual wealth of insights, magic realism and horror.

 

Elie Grappe’s ‘Olga’ – focused on the adolescent angst of the eponymous Ukranian youth (Anastasiia Budiashkina) trying to assimilate and succeed when she attends a Swiss National Sports Centre – attained extra contemporary poignancy with Russia’s aggression against the Ukraine.  This tale, told in solid unfussy aesthetic, attained equal personal and sociological depth with its tale of a young girl finding herself somewhat marooned, hounded by politics back home (in this case, the Euromaiden revolt) and finding her own way, her independence. Arguably, the feats of gymnastics and 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.

 

Carlota Pereda’s ‘Piggy’ similarly pursued its young, bullied protagonist’s search for agency and dignity against a horror background. The blood-drenched poster, although true to the film, perhaps implies a straightforward revenge-of-the-bullied flick, and although it's that too, 'Piggy' comes more from the long heritage of touching, rambling and empathic bildungsroman. Laura Galán’s performance is compelling, bold and unforgettable as our bullied and put-upon heroine finds her Id unleashed in the form of a serial killer that takes a shine to her. There's then her moral dilemma of if she allows vengeance by proxy, thereby investigating the very revenge sub-genre we are in. If it ultimately doesn't challenge too much, it's a strong, self-aware drama whose move into genre shocks aren't necessarily celebratory. But even if it was waste-deep in genre, it was more interested in a Sara’s (an unforgettable Laura Galán) moral conflict, making this more insightful than just another revenge flick. The final showdown had a weight of themes and dilemma not usually found in such denouements, remaining true to all that had gone before by being primarily about Sara’s conscience and choices.

 

Hanna Bergholm’s ‘Hatching’ was a critical favourite which was like a mash-up of ‘Olga’ and ‘Piggy’: harassed sports girl manifesting her issues through the horror genre. If its themes were all on the surface, it had a neat monster, tended towards an arthouse feel and wasn’t afraid to go the distance. Following many contemporary horrors where the analogies, metaphors and symbolism are all on the surface (‘The Babadook’ and ‘Men’ come to mind, even ‘Slapface’) this is the tale of a mother fermenting something monstrous due to the relentless ambitions she has for her daughter. This is very much a matriarchy, a passive-aggressive power with the father-figure worn down and cuckolded. The tantrums of the younger son notwithstanding, this isn’t really a household allowing insurrection, and it’s the twinges of disillusion and rebellion that causes the supernatural upheaval.

 

It is very ikky, well performed and rendered in glossy magazine clarity, a little on the nose and a little Grimm’s fairy tale. But if there isn’t so much subtext, the film follows through on its metaphor in a manner that reflects and elucidates on the characters. The practical effects are a bonus: the monster is unsettling and unforgettable*. There is something equally stylish and visceral offered by ‘Hatching’, a creature-feature with arthouse executon and intention, that makes this a highly enjoyable and an often discomforting horror coming-of-age, even if only for Sophia Heikkilä’s smile.

 

I had the bonus of not knowing ‘Hatching’ would be a creature feature, having just picked up the positive reputation without knowing so much. So when the egg cracked and it the creature appeared, I chuckled to myself with delight.

 

If ‘Piggy’ and ‘Hatching’ were embroiled in the negative pressures of mother-daughter relationships, Cécile Ducrocq’s ‘Her Way’ (‘Une femme du monde’) was another female-helmed delve into parenting, this time what a mother will do for her son, despite the challenge of being a sex worker. Making no judgements, however wrongheaded Marie (a formidable Laure Calamy) could be, it was empathetic to all concerned and reached respectful conclusions. We all have to find our own way. 

Céline Sciamma proved again with ‘Petite Maman’ that she has remarkable affinity capturing childhood. With a bit of magic realism, this paean to mother-daughter bond had fairy tale allusions whilst still having a grounded, realist vibe, creating an overall respect for the intelligence and imagination of children. Celine Sciamma sees cinema as consolatory, and ‘Petite Maman’ certainly works directly from that foundation. A little childhood fantasy opens up all kinds of ruminations about generational, parental and peer relationships, if not about childhood fantasy itself. And being Sciamma, it’s all done without any feeling of excess, sentimentality or manipulation. Except we’ll allow the one moment where exuberant music makes a simple moment transcendent.

 

Laura Wandal’s ‘Playground’, however, was gruelling and upsetting to an extent that no horror or magic realism could reach. Its realistic portrayal of the matter-of-fact confusion, psychological and physical bullying of school life achieved an honesty about the bewilderment and the micro- and macro-cruelties that young children have to suffer and survive every day. A stark, truthful portrayal of the baffling drama and grinder of childhood confusions and bullying. The camera stays close to the faces of our young protagonists so there’s no doubt or reprieve from empathising with them or the bewilderment and suffering conveyed in Maya Vanderbeque and Gunter Duret’s expressions. Somewhat heart-breaking.And its message that love and bonds are all we are left with convinced and hit harder than a hundred other films.

 

Eskel Vogt’s ‘The Innocents’ did this with a horror-and-shock twist on the super-power genre. A handful of preteens discover they have powers but are too young and immature to fully control their feelings. As if Céline Sciamma filmed ‘Chronicle’, ‘The Innocents’ uses its kitchen sink realism on a Danish estate to underplay the increasingly devasting tale of bunch of young preteens discovering powers, to leave audiences underpredicting the shocks forthcoming. And, of course, the adults and outside world hardly know. Immaculately told and sporting stunning young naturalistic performances, chilling and compelling.

 

But if you were after the warmth of childhood memories, there was Richard Linklater’s ‘Apollo 101/2: A Space Age childhood’. The wonderful rotoscoping only accentuates the picturebook nostaligia of a Summer of ’69 childhood, defined by the NASA town mileau and moonage daydreams. A little drifting, but it’s a pleasant, good-looking mood-piece underlined by gentle casual humour (“Mad” magazine in space) and Milo Coy’s insouciant performance.

 

 

A N I MA T I O N S

 

And to other animations:

 

Phil Tippett’s ‘Mad God’ was a small stop-motion wonder. The most likely general introduction to his work is the Millenium Falcon alien “chess” game in ‘Star Wars’. This was more like the semi-abstract stories of the Quay brothers, hooked on the macabre and stream-of-consciousness madness. It’s an experience rather than a story: an assassin goes into the underworld… and then Alex Cox turns up. There is the theme of the relentless punishment and ruthlessness of industrialised work-life, but mostly it works on nightmare logic. Perhaps lacking a magic narrative ingredient, but just sit back and marvel at the animation and miniatures, the design, the cruelty and the animated gore.

 

The anthology ‘The House’ also provided something quite different, delving into various genres and moods that ranged from the Gothic to the creepy to an ensemble piece at the end of the world. 

By contrast, ‘The Bob’s Burger Movie’ was just a lot of fun. This was the year that I discovered that ‘Bob’s Burgers’ was my new comfort viewing. If you know the show, this transition to the big screen smoothly provides what you are looking for in a bigger bun: funny, frivolous, smart, daft. Another franchise would have overreached with its caricatures, but 'Bob's Burgers' as a series never quite overreaches, grounded by a sense of something quite humble. Great fun.

And as an example of how glorious daft animation can be, there was ‘Minions: the Rise of Gru’. You already know if this is going to be your thing, but the Minions gag – silly voices; slapstick – is an unpretentious source that keeps on giving. It also helps that the creators don’t coast. Silly and enjoyable, undemanding fun where the gags for the adults (Rolling Stones?) don't sneer down at the slapstick for the kids. (If I was *a lot* younger, lamenting "Kevin, Kevin, Kevin..." would be a hip refrain between me and friends.)

 

O u t  Th e r e

 

But there were a smattering of great films that were willing to go “Out There”, to throw in curveballs and/or the kitchen sink to deliver something entertaining if not new.

 

The true break through was The Little Multiverse Movie That Could, Daniel Scheinert and Daniel Kwan’s ‘Everything Everywhere All At Once’. A multiverse film for those not into superheroes? Perhaps I was expecting something in the style more of channel-hopping, but ‘Everything Everywhere all at Once’ is grounded in domestic drama even as it embraces the mayhem of the alternative dimensions. It’s fast, furious and consistently amusing, stuffed with inventive asides, googly-eyes and film homages – not only ‘2001’, ‘Ratatouille’ and martial arts  Mexican wrestling films but one alternative world is a Wong Kar Wai reality – but then spends the last third belabouring its points about family. It’s this sentimentality that is more tiresome than the multiverse, but there’s a whole lot of fun being had and Jamie Lee Curtis is obviously having one hell of a party.

 

 

Robert Eggers went for broke with ‘The Northman’ 

and Paul Verhoeven proved as much as a prankster and subversive as ever with ‘Benedetta’. Both earnest in its targets and trolling the easily outraged. A full-blooded mash-up of historical drama and nunsploitation... evocatively mounted and as slippery as Verhoeven always is.

 

And then there was Zach Cregger’s ‘Barbarian’. I am so, so grateful and lucky that I got to see it at FrightFest before anyone knew even a smidgen of what it was, so all the twists and ton al changes hit me exactly as they should in a way that isn’t possible now, what with its reputation and all. It’s the kind of film that if you have seen it, you are likely to think that even the promotional pictures hint at too much. As this film is especially best served cold, I will just leave it at: it’s good and brilliantly gamed.

 

Of course, the horror genre is the home of the outrageous, so we also got Travis Stevens’ ‘A Wounded Fawn’. With some formal play, style, psychedelica, and great performances, this pumps colourful juice in the serial killer genre. It’s a kind of abstract revenge and Final Girl flick where the murderer-in-denial is tormented seemingly by a group of performance artists (embodying his obsession with myths). Trippy and artfully done and topped off with an audacious closing credits sequence.

 

And ‘Titane’, in which Julia Ducournau takes the discomfort, body horror, black humour and farce, jaw-dropping boldness, etc., of the "Brazilian" scene in her previous film "Raw" and shows she can make it last a full-length feature. A pure oddity that any Cronenberg fan would take to with its mash-up of sex and technology.

 

And speaking of David Cronenberg: ‘Crimes of theFuture’ found him updating the themes that dominated his early work through his latterday slickness and control. Stuffed full of ideas that you could mull over long after and as prescient as ever. 

 

But although Sam Raimi snuck in some welcome horror touches to ‘Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness’ wasn’t so much. The 'other' multiverse movie of the moment, and this one may have a bigger budget but it’s less surprising and makes less use of the limitless possibilities of its alternative realities. However, there’s plenty of Raimi trying to push it with horror stuff (even down to its conflation between motherhood and monstrousness) when Strange must go up against The Scarlet Witches’ merciless, seemingly undefeatable brooding. This and the cameos keep things diverting and Cumberbach and Olsen know what they’re doing, giving it all a touch of class.

 

And Jaume Collet-Serra’s ‘Black Adam’ was even more ho-hum. Average super-hero stuff with Johnson trying to play a little against type, but we aren't fooled. Overstuffed with backstory and punch-ups and inclined to reduce its muddled  political aspirations more than mouthpieces and simplistic gestures. Aside from Johnson, Hodge and Bronson make meals of scraps as Hawkman and Dr Fate, but everyone else is given little room to breathe, although  Bodhi Sabongui dominates as the over-confident, enthused, cocky-but-charming kid as the audience avatar.

 

Rather, it was up to something like the more modest ‘Werewolf By Night’ special by Michael Giacchino to deliver the comic book fun.

 

And for blockbuster superhero bravura/indulgence, there was ‘The Batman’ from Matt Reeves. There was plenty to admire even at three hours: I, for one never was bored and intrigued/entertained throughout until the third act delivered slightly different ingredient to boost interest again for the showdown. But your mileage may vary, of course.

 

I possibly enjoyed Jordan Peele’s ‘Nope’ more on a superficial than those looking obsessively for meanings and symbolism – which they found – but I conceded that I may thinks it gels better on a second watch. 

 

Alex Garland’s ‘Men’ provided me with lots of fun debates with a pal that didn’t like at all and another that thought it was too on-the-nose. Yes, but in a way that makes me laugh with glee when horror sheds all the allusions and gets on with the gratuitous. It’s the same response when the shell cracked and I realised what ‘Hatching’ was going to be.   

 

‘Deadstream’ by Joseph and Vanessa Winter was a title and premise that I wasn’t intrigued by, but within minutes, the FrightFest audience were laughing themselves giddy.  Me too, and I think this might be the film this year where I let all thoughts go and just enjoyed myself a riot.

 

Showcasing Joseph Winter’s brilliant comic performance, this is both hilarious and scary. The relatively new internet culture genre is truly finding its footing, and perhaps reaping more multi-layered rewards than just straight Found Footage, including the social media influencer culture. Certainly, our funny internet-celebrity protagonist has to face manifestations of his own fame-hungry demons.

 

Peppered with many great one-liners that keep on coming, and details that reap narrative rewards later, belying its seemingly superficial veneer. Things set up early on – and as we know we’re in a horror film, amuse us – still manage to reap rewards and laughs when coming to fruition. Especially with a second watch, the deftness and smart plotting becomes apparent. But, again, considering how daft this is, there is just something inherently creepy and unnerving about empty buildings like this. I admit also to being on edge several  times. And yes I was happily suckered and jumped.

... more to come....

 

Guillermo Del Toro’s Cabinet of Curiosities

Lot 36

Director – Guillermo Navarro

Writers – Regina Corrado, based on an original story by Guillermo del Toro 

Stars – Tim Blake Nelson, Sebastian Roché, Elpidia Carrillo

Graveyard Rats

Director – Vincenzo Natali

Writers – Guillermo del Toro, based on a short story by Henry Kuttner 

Stars – David Hewlett, Alexander Eling, Ish Morris

The Autopsy

Director – David Prior

Writers – David S. Goyer, Michael Shea, based on the short story by Guillermo del Toro

Stars – F. Murray Abraham, Glynn Turman, Luke Roberts

The Outside

Director - Ana Lily Amirpour

Writers - Haley Z. Boston, Emily Carroll based on a short story by Guillermo del Toro

Stars – Kate Micucci, Martin Starr 

Pickman’s Model

Director – Keith Thomas

Writers - Lee Patterson, Guillermo del Toro based on a short story by H.P. Lovecraft 

Stars – Ben Barnes, Crispin Glover, Oriana Leman

Dreams in the Witch House

Director – Catherine Hardwicke

Writers – Mika Watkins, Guillermo del Toro based on a short story by H.P. Lovecraft

Stars – Rupert Grint, Ismael Cruz Cordova, DJ Qualls

The Viewing

Director – Panos Cosmatos

Writers – Panos Cosmatos, Aaron Stewart-Ahn, Guillermo del Toro

Stars – Peter Weller, Steve Agee, Eric André

The Murmuring

Director – Jennifer Kent

Writers – Jennifer Kent, based on a short story by Guillermo del Toro

Stars – Essie Davis, Andrew Lincoln, Greg Ellwand

‘Guillermo Del Toro’s Cabinet of Curiosities’ is a handsomely mounted series, containing many vivid, memorable performances and set pieces. It’s a much more intriguing and impressive selection than the cartoonery and scrappiness of ‘Creepshow’, and arguably more consistent (different aims, of course). Del Toro introduces each episode, pulling an item from the puzzle-box-like cabinet that triggers the story forthcoming and names the director. This generosity also acts as a badge of quality, for this is a bunch of pretty esteemed filmmakers. Ultimately, it’s a cut above as a selection. 

In the first episode, ‘Lot 36’, Tim Blake Nelson’s angry performance is all. It’s directed by Guillermo Navarro who has collaborated with Del Toro several times previously and is chiefly a cinematographer (he did ‘The Devil’s Bone’, ‘Hellboy’ and ‘Pan’s Labyrinth’, for example). The setting of a storage facility and Nelson’ abrasiveness as Nick Appleton are the hooks, but the narrative is a bit front-loaded; meaning when things take a turn for the supernatural, it seems like it hasn’t left itself enough time. The monster is the kind beset by CGI and it’s just a bit average and underwhelming, despite a superior adult tone.

Vincenzo Natali’s ‘Graveyard Rats’ is the kind of genre fare that, having established its protagonist as somewhat reprehensible, sets about gleefully putting him through the slapstick horror wringer. Rats, claustrophobia, taphophobia and more horrors are poured onto greedy, graverobbing Masson’s head (a game David Hewitt) to absurdist amounts. Natali – who established his genre credentials with ‘Cube’, ‘Splice’ and many episodes of genre series – channels his inner-Raimi and delivers one of those wild horror rides that fits just nicely in the 40 minute format. Nothing original but Natali’s direction delivers a better and more enjoyable slice of EC comic-style Gothic terror than many. The dental examination of a drowned corpse was one to make me wince.

And if corpses being messed with makes you queasy, then ‘The Autopsy’ will hit your buttons. David Prior’s ‘The Empty Man’ had plenty of genre savvy and mashing-up and ‘The Autopsy’ exhibits further his sure hand. Starts off in earnest looking like a police procedural (a serial killer tale, perhaps) and then moves into realms more … otherworldy. It helps that it has scored a seasoned veteran like F. Murray Abraham as the lead, especially when he’s working solo for the most part and can carry it all effortlessly. The tone shifts subtly and the shocks creep up accumulating in a go-for-broke gruesome ending. A full bloodied horror that gives equal attention to creeps and squirms and, wherever else it goes, has no intention of pulling punches.

It's true that this series doesn’t really try with its titles. However, Ana Lily Amirpour’s ‘The Outside’ is the one that hits something heartfelt and horrific more than any other entry, It has an almost Joe Dante feel, in that Dante was good at surface gloss and the truly creepy in equal amounts, at serving up acidic slabs of brightly hued satire. Ana Lily Amirpour hit renown with ‘A Girl Walks Home Alone at Night’, so you know you’re in safe hands with the social commentary. Kate Micucci gives a brave performance as a woman who finds the pack of pretty but vacuous work colleagues fascinating and impenetrable and just wants to belong. Martin Starr’s performance as her husband is wonderfully warm and humane, and between these actors there’s a hook that goes deep. It’s the episode that has haunted me most and has begged that I mull it over. The shock did hit hard (oh yeah, of course: taxidermy) after the surreal turns had surprised, and it eventually ends up as tragedy. 

Keith Thomas’ ‘Pickwick’s Model’ has a winning period setting as an upcoming artist stumbles upon another whose paintings, in typical Lovecraftian fashion, acts as insights or instigations into untold otherworldly horrors. Or something. A chief pleasure of Lovecraft is that much of the horror remains abstract, of the imagination, untouchable. In visual adaptations, this can be a muddle, but this, as many are are prone, goes for what gross-out it can find for an anchor. Get past Crispin Glover’s distracting accent and it’s an entertaining if undemanding creepy tale.

But Catherine Hardwicke’s ‘Dreams in the Witch House’ is a depiction of goggle-eyed Rupert Grint stumbling through a Lovecraftian mess. Period recreation, the scary and the goofy and the maudlin barely hold together, leading to an end note that we don’t really care about. But it least it can be credited with the best title. 

Panos Cosmatos’ ‘The Viewing’, however, puts things firmly back in the singular vision vain. His beautifully composed shots, the auditory immersion breaking out into synth numbers to hit the pleasure zones, his broad use of colour plus his usual tweak of psychedelia – a kind of sunburnt trippiness – gives the simmering build-up and escalation a somewhat truer sensation of Lovecraftian horror, of meddling in and unleashing unimaginable horrors. One of Cosmatos’ dodgy guru types (Weller on fine form) gathers a group of artists and scientists together to try and penetrate the secrets of something he has acquired. The last image of set free horror is one to linger long after. 

Jennifer Kent’s ‘The Murmuring’ is the nadir of the series’ titles; yes it’s alluding to the murmurations of birds as well as ghostly voices, but even so. It gets all the marks for performances of Essie Davis and Andrew Lincoln and an increasingly unsettling build-up. Kent knows that jump-scares don’t haunt, even if she knows that noises in the night do. But as with her breakthrough triumph, ‘The Babadook’ there isn’t much subtext or thematic subtlety, with all the analogies pretty upfront. If the slow burn ultimately arrives at something quite routine - horror being a way to process grief, etc - there are enough creaks and bangs, empathy and quiet ghosts to hit the mark.