Thứ Hai, 13 tháng 1, 2014

WHAT IN TARRNATION

According to some sources, Tarr Béla's first feature, Family Nest, premiered 35 years ago this month. If that's exactly true or not, the excuse of an especially cold and snowy winter here in my corner of the world provides the perfect backdrop for thinking about the cinema of barrenness and death. Thus, I am pleased to announce a new series: typically on Fridays (of which you'll note, today is not one; scheduling is hard sometimes), Antagony & Ecstasy will be hosting a Tarr retrospective. Thrill to the long takes, longer running times, and overwhelming sense of despair! The first bonus piece will be going up this afternoon, with a full review of Family Nest later today.

Chủ Nhật, 12 tháng 1, 2014

NOMINATION PREDICTIONS FOR THE 86th ACADEMY AWARDS

Should we do this thing? Let's do this thing. It's like the holidays: once a year you just shut up and do the done thing, for tradition's sake. I am eschewing commentary, because of being busy, but feel free to call me out on my logic in comments.

Picture
12 Years a Slave
American Hustle
Captain Phillips
Dallas Buyers Club
Gravity
Nebraska
Philomena
The Wolf of Wall Street

I'm officially predicting only these eight. If there are up to ten, I expect them to be, in this order:
Inside Llewyn Davis
Saving Mr. Banks

Director
Alfonso Cuarón, Gravity
Paul Greengrass, Captain Phillips
Steve McQueen, 12 Years a Slave
Alexander Payne, Nebraska
David O. Russell, American Hustle
Alt: Martin Scorsese, The Wolf of Wall Street

Actor
Bruce Dern, Nebraska
Leonardo DiCaprio, The Wolf of Wall Street
Chiwetel Ejiofor, 12 Years a Slave
Tom Hanks, Captain Phillips
Matthew McConaughey, Dallas Buyers Club
Alt: Robert Redford, All Is Lost

Actress
Amy Adams, American Hustle
Cate Blanchett, Blue Jasmine
Sandra Bullock, Gravity
Judi Dench, Philomena
Emma Thompson, Saving Mr. Banks
Alt: Meryl Streep, August: Osage County

Supporting Actor
Barkhad Abdi, Captain Phillips
Daniel Brühl, Rush
Bradley Cooper, American Hustle
Michael Fassbender, 12 Years a Slave
Jared Leto, Dallas Buyers Club
Alt: Jonah Hill, The Wolf of Wall Street

Supporting Actress
Jennifer Lawrence, American Hustle
Lupita Nyong’o, 12 Years a Slave
Julia Roberts, August: Osage County
June Squibb, Nebraska
Oprah Winfrey, Lee Daniels’ The Butler
Alt: Octavia Spencer, Fruitvale Station

Adapted Screenplay
12 Years a Slave, by John Ridley
Before Midnight, by Julie Delpy, Ethan Hawke, & Richard Linklater
Captain Phillips, by Billy Ray
Philomena, by Steve Coogan & Jeff Pope
The Wolf of Wall Street, by Terence Winter)
Alt: August: Osage County, by Tracy Letts

Original Screenplay
American Hustle, by David O. Russell and Eric Singer
Blue Jasmine, by Woody Allen
Her, by Spike Jonze
Inside Llewyn Davis, by Joel Coen & Ethan Coen
Nebraska, by Bob Nelson
Alt: Dallas Buyers Club, by Craig Borten and Melissa Wallack

Cinematography
12 Years a Slave (Sean Bobbitt)
Gravity (Emmanuel Lubezki)
Inside Llewyn Davis (Bruno Delbonnel)
Nebraska (Phedon Papamichael)
Prisoners (Roger Deakins)
Alt: Captain Phillips (Barry Ackroyd)

Editing
12 Years a Slave (Joe Walker)
American Hustle (Jay Cassidy and Crispin Struthers)
Captain Phillips (Christopher Rouse)
Gravity (Alfonso Cuarón and Mark Sanger)
The Wolf of Wall Street (Thelma Schoonmaker)
Alt: Nebraska (Kevin Tent)

Production Design
12 Years a Slave (Adam Stochausen; Alice Baker)
American Hustle (Judy Becker; Heather Loeffler)
Gravity (Andy Nicholson; Rosie Goodwin)
The Great Gatsby (Catherine Martin; Beverly Dunn)
The Hobbit: The Desolation of Smaug (Dan Hennah; Ra Vincent)
Alt: Her (K.K. Barrett; Gene Serdena)

Costume Design
12 Years a Slave (Patricia Norris)
American Hustle (Michael Wilkinson)
The Great Gatsby (Catherine Martin)
Oz the Great and Powerful (Gary Jones)
Saving Mr. Banks (Daniel Orlandi)
Alt: The Hunger Games: Catching Fire (Trish Summerville)

Makeup and Hairstyling
American Hustle
Jackass Presents: Bad Grandpa
The Lone Ranger
Alt: Dallas Buyers Club

Score
12 Years a Slave (Hans Zimmer)
The Book Thief (John Williams)
Gravity (Steven Price)
Rush (Hans Zimmer)
Saving Mr. Banks (Thomas Newman)
Alt: Philomena (Alexandre Desplat)

Song
From August: Osage County: “Last Mile Home”
From Frozen: “Let It Go”
From Her: “The Moon Song”
From The Hobbit: The Desolation of Smaug: “I See Fire”
From The Great Gatsby: “Young and Beautiful”
Alt: From Lee Daniels’ The Butler: “You and I Ain’t Nothing No More”

Sound Mixing
All Is Lost
Gravity
Inside Llewyn Davis
Lone Survivor
Rush
Alt: Captain Phillips

Sound Editing
All Is Lost
Captain Phillips
Gravity
Lone Survivor
Rush
Alt: Frozen

Visual Effects
Gravity
The Hobbit: The Desolation of Smaug
Iron Man 3
Pacific Rim
Star Trek Into Darkness
Alt: Elysium

Animated Feature
Despicable Me 2
Ernest & Celestine
Frozen
Monsters University
The Wind Rises
Alt: The Croods

Foreign Language
The Great Beauty (Italy)
The Hunt (Denmark)
The Notebook (Hungary)
Omar (Palestine)
Two Lives (Germany)
Alt: The Broken Circle Breakdown (Belgium)

Documentary Feature
20 Feet from Stardom
Blackfish
God Loves Uganda
The Square
Tim’s Vermeer
Alt: Cutie and the Boxer

Documentary Short
Jujitsu-ing Reality
Karama Has No Walls
The Lady in Number 6
Prison Terminal: The Last Days of Private Jack Hall
Recollections
Alt: Facing Fear

Animated Short
Get a Horse!
Gloria Victoria
Hollow Land
Mr. Hublot
Possessions
Alt: Feral

Live-Action Short
Kush
That Wasn’t Me
Throat Song
Two
The Voorman Problem
Alt: Helium

NOTES AND OBSERVATIONS ON LONE SURVIVOR

Bluntly, I don't want to review Lone Survivor. I watched it on a screener DVD back before Christmas, and at that time concluded that my intense philosophical disagreements weren't going to be at all productive as the spine of a review - anyone who agrees with me would just end up depressed by what I'd say and anyone who disagrees would be angry - but that the movie itself was such a hash of flat characters and clumsy storytelling that I had nothing interesting to say about its technique. But it's heading to #1 at the American box office, and I made my stupid pledge years ago, so I'll at least throw a few thoughts out there without going to the work of a full-on analysis of the thing.

If Berg and producer-star Mark Wahlberg were at all sincere in their widely-expressed intention that this should be a dignifying tribute to the Navy SEALS who died during a failed operation to kill a Taliban leader in 1995, leaving just a lone survivor in the form of Marcus Luttrell, played by Wahlberg (no spoilers here: what the title doesn't give away, the first ten minutes of the film do in a flash-forward), surely they could have done a much better job of it than this. The four SEALS sent on that fatal mission have barely a dime's worth of differentiating characterisation, and it's literally only because the actors playing them are all familiar to me that I was able to tell them apart at all. Berg's screen adaptation of Luttrell's memoirs aims for nobility, but it ends up landing squarely in clichés from movies about soldiers stretching back 70 years or more, and the heroes he's trying to memorialise are presented as stock figures at best, saddled with wheezingly trite dialogue that makes them sound like reductive cartoons.

The story surrounding them breaks apart into four pieces of irregular size, opening with an all but explicit advertisement for the Navy that transitions into the best part of the film by far, a nuts-and-bolts look at what the mission consisted of on a practical and mechanical level, following the SEALS - Wahlberg as Luttrell, Taylor Kitsch as Michael Murphy, Emile Hirsch as Danny Dietz, and Ben Foster as Matt Axelson - as they're going about the business of soldiering, eventually slamming into a moral crisis that suffers from being the most conspicuously overwritten part of the script. Then we jump into a loud, hugely brutal combat sequence that is at once the most finely-made part of the film (the sound design alone is sort of miraculous), and also the most dubious, with Berg and cinematographer Tobias Schliessler lingering on the suffering of the four men with a visceral energy that emphasises the "died" part of "died for their country" with rather more slasher film glee than I could imagine being comfortable with. And then there's Luttrell's escape, a sequence that could be turned into a rich and involving movie all on its own, if Berg and company weren't too busy making this a fevered combat video game in the guise of a tribute film.

It's all very shallow, very glossy, very bloody, and very unpersuasive as serious drama; it's violence porn, really, and not even especially concerned about whether it's fetishising the Good Guys or the Bad Guys. And that comes right back to the characters, who simply aren't given enough life to make it possible to care for them once the shooting starts: the actors all do their best to be interesting and have personalities (Kitsch, I am surprised to say, doing far and away the best job of it, for my tastes), but they're still pretty rigid and brittle anyway. On the level of being a potent gutpunch of an experience, I guess this works, but it strikes me as being a trivialising, sensationalist way of paying tribute to anything, and far too unreflective to say anything largely interesting or worthwhile.

But I am a pacifist humanist, and Berg no doubt does not give a shit what I have to say.

4/10

REVIEW ALL MONSTERS! - STUPID AND YET CUNNING. A VERY RARE SPECIMEN INDEED

After having been quite horrified by the outlandish weirdness (even by the standards of Japanese pop culture!) of 1971's Godzilla vs. Hedorah, series producer Tanaka Tomoyuki had one demand, and that was for the next year's movie to be a sane and normal Godzilla movie like all the other Godzilla movies. And by God, but that's exactly what he got: Godzilla vs. Gigan is about as derivative as the franchise could possibly be, and not just because its plot is the third, barely-altered incarnation of the scenario already presented by Invasion of Astro-Monster in 1965 and Destroy All Monsters in 1968 (that is, an alien race wants to colonise Earth and uses mind-control on giant monsters to do it, with King Ghidorah as their biggest weapon). The even more literal debt the film owes to its forebears is that as a cost-cutting measure, a huge portion of the kaiju action comes in the form of effects footage from earlier films, primarily Ghidorah, the Three-Headed Monster and Destroy All Monsters. What I find even more galling is that the musical score is likewise raided from the Toho vaults, consisting almost in its entirety of cues Ifukube Akira had composed for earlier Godzilla films, and these cues are not chosen randomly or without some intent, but the results are still flattened and generic in their fashion. And Ifukube is given an onscreen credit, which is downright nasty.

Just about the only thing Godzilla vs. Gigan can claim for its very own is an especially loopy and out-there visual sensibility that pairs well with the dimwitted B-movie spy antics that seemed to be the constant result of director Fukuda Jun and screenwriter Sekizawa Shinichi putting their heads together. I would go so far as to say, in fact, that Godzilla vs. Gigan is downright pleasant to look at, especially in its first half, when the film is still busily introducing us to its weird sci-fi sets and costumes (the former courtesy of designer Honda Yoshifumi; there doesn't seem to be a credited costume designer), and Hasegawa Kiyoshi's camera is free to soak up the très 1970s oranges and silvers that everything a simultaneously gaudy and sleek futurist glow. Bright colors abound in Godzilla vs. Gigan; that is the one thing I take away from it more than anything else, and certainly it's one of my only largely positive responses to the movie.

The protagonist, as befits a bit of pulpy trash aimed at a young audience, is a kids' manga writer, Kotaka Gengo (Ishikawa Hiroshi). His two latest monsters - one representing unfinished homework, the other strict mothers - are unbelievably dumb, and he's unable to sell them to his editor; this causes his girlfriend, Tomoko (Hishimi Yuriko) to ride him even harder about finding real work than we can presume she usually does, and that's how he ends up at the offices of Children's Land, a new theme park dedicated to the twin ideal of giant monsters and world peace - its big eye-catching central structure is a giant tower in the shape of Godzilla straddling an elevator shaft. It's okay if that seems weird even for a Sekizawa screenplay; it's not sane humans putting this together. The fact is, the head of the park development, Kubota (Nishizawa Toshiaki) and his eerily young head of technology, Sudo Fumio (Fujita Zan) are really alien body snatchers who've taken over a pair of human corpses to be their vessels in a plot to take over the planet. We don't find that out for a little bit, and it's a bit later still that we find out their reason: their homeworld was destroyed by pollution, and they now want to kill all humanity before we can do the same thing to Earth, thus rendering it unsuitable for a takeover. To fight the aliens' champions of King Ghidorah and the stunningly odd new daikaiju Gigan, who should be making a beeline from Monster Land in the Pacific to Japan, but our old buddies Godzilla and Anguiras.

That's streamlining things a lot, because Godzilla vs. Gigan is bursting at the seams with plot details that feel inexplicable and tacked-on; I didn't even find room to mention Gengo's partnership with Shima Machiko (Umeda Tomeko) and her hippie friend Shosaku (Takashima Minoru), hunting for her brother who has gone missing while working at Children's Land, since it doesn't end up informing much. Nor the matter of Godzilla and Anguiras speaking in the sound of tape distortion. For a film that's awfully busy and awfully manic, Godzilla vs. Gigan turns out to be quite a dreadful slog, undoubtedly because the ideas seem so unbelievably stale, and the plot doesn't flow so much as hopscotch.

In part, I have little doubt that this was because of a tremendously compressed schedule, owing to how many times the project was re-conceived before it was finally put in front of cameras. Godzilla vs. Gigan began life unrecognisably, as a far more ambitious movie with King Ghidorah and several new monsters squaring off against Godzilla. Extreme budget limitations turned that into a new project, and then that one had to be simplified yet again into the sublime exercise in cost-cutting that we see before us now, where every choice was seemingly made from a cost-cutting perspective (down to the casting of Anguiras as Godzilla's ally; that suit, built for Destroy All Monsters, was in the best shape of any of the series dramatis personae). The results are generally dismal: the shifting quality and design found in the various pieces of stock footage end up making the movie look as much like a clip reel as anything, and the new footage is almost uniformly worse than all of it, as effects director Nakano Teruyoshi lacked either the skill and comfort (this was his second Godzilla film, after Hedorah), or simply the time and money, to do things right. There are over-lit models that look more like plastic miniatures than anything in any Godzilla film prior to this; an interior shot of a department store that Gigan is destroying desperately tries to make vinyl baby dolls look like mannequins. The Shoshingeki-Goji suit, built for DAM and used in every film since then, was starting to look just awful, and even the not-terribly-attentive viewer can literally see it falling apart in some close-ups during the climactic battle scene. Such a terribly sad farewell this turns out to be for Nakajima Haruo, whose last performance as Godzilla this would prove to be (he would, however, put in stock footage appearances in the future). Surely, he deserved something better to do in his final turn as the character he did as much to define as anybody, than to look like he was wearing a ratty rubber area rug and being prohibited from moving too vigorously, lest he tore something.

Counterbalancing all this, if it could ever be done, is Gigan, easily the strangest-looking Toho daikaiju to that point. Not always well-executed, mind you; the vertical buzz saw emerging from his abdomen is brought to life by a thoroughly unconvincing effect. But then, did you notice what I just said about a buzz saw in his abdomen? AND the digitless metal spikes he has for arms, AND the mechanical beak-face, and the glowing red single eye - it's gleefully weird and impossible in all ways, a sign perhaps of a certain sense of "let's just fucking do this, because screw logic" infecting the franchise as it began to bottom out in earnest.

Anyway, something had to smack of inspiration in all of this. It wasn't the story, certainly, and it wasn't Fukuda's sloppy directing, which sometimes has the distinct foulness of a scene that had to be shot with a minimum number of set-ups that didn't necessarily cut together well, because there wasn't enough time to do it right. But a crazed steampunk-dragon kaiju, and dazzlingly colorful style; that is, at any rate, more than Son of Godzilla ever thought to give us, and Godzilla vs. Gigan at least has the decency to be relaxingly dull in its stupidity, instead of actively painful.

Thứ Năm, 9 tháng 1, 2014

MARKING TIME

Spinoff my balls: Paranormal Activity: The Marked Ones belongs firmly in the mainline continuity of a franchise that now reaches its fifth entry in the most pandering and condescending way I can imagine. Latinos are a reliable audience for this franchise? Then throw some Latinos at it. Incomprehensibly-written demons don't care what skin color you have.

In truth, The Marked Ones is something of a return to grace for the series, which had been steadily worsening all though way through to Paranormal Activity 3 in 2011, but only ran aground on Shit Island with the fourth entry in 2012. I don't know if it's quite the case that The Marked Ones is back up to the level of quality represented by PA3, and I don't know if it would be the case if that was really a good thing anyway. What I do know is that in its clumsy, obvious way, The Marked Ones is openly trying to be a scary movie, and all things being equal, I do tend to prefer horror films that make an attempt to be scary over horror movies that all excited about collating the narrative details of the films preceding them.

Certainly, the kind of scares to be had here are of an entirely reductive sort, but that will happen with fifth films: the camera moves here, it's empty, it moves to a close-up of the mildly confused protagonist, it moves back only this time somebody is standing in shot as wasn't there before! Accompanied by a noisy musical sting or clanging sound effect, things that typically cannot be incorporated into the nominally real and entirely diegetic onscreen world of found-footage horror movies, though bless me if The Marked Ones doesn't think long and hard about making that leap. For a franchise whose creepiness bona fides have relied primarily on slow builds and letting the viewer soak in the frame, this film is awfully dependent on stock-issue jump scares. Which, I can never emphasise this enough, is more than PA4 had going for it, so congratulations to writer-director Christopher Landon (who's had his hands in every Paranormal Activity since the second one): he knows how to make a mechanically functioning movie, which is apparently something we can't take for granted now.

This newfound love for jump scares comes hand-in-hand with the other big aesthetic leap in this movie, which is a charmingly optimistic way to phrase it. This is the first Paranormal Activity to largely eschew the static camera looking at a room style in favor of handheld consumer-grade cameras being shakily carried around by the main characters, the dominant mode of pretty much every found-footage movie outside of this franchise. Which is maybe what is meant in calling this a "spin-off", though I think structural niceties are probably not what Landon or series guardians and producers Oren Peli and Jason Blum had in mind. If the result is that The Marked Ones is, in a walk, the laziest and most generic of the Paranormal Activities, it also doesn't reach the frustrating depths of the last two.

The plot, anyway, takes us to the summer of 2012, in a predominately Latino neighborhood of aouthern California. Here, recent high school graduate Jesse (Andrew Jacobs) and his best friend, the affably dopey Hector (Jorge Diaz) spend their days goofing off and recording all of it, because why not, and through all the dipshittery, we get just enough hints that Jesse's downstairs neighbor, an older woman named Anna (Gloria Sandoval), is generally regarded in the community as a witch to give us a good sense of where the plot is going. Sure enough, she ends up dead at the hands of local good boy-turned-bad Oscar (Carlos Pratts), who leaves just enough breadcrumbs for Jesse, Hector, and the vaguely defined Marisol (Gabrielle Walsh) - I think she's somehow related to Jesse, but I wouldn't swear to that in a court of law - to start piecing things together when Jesse starts having weird dreams and begins to experience unexplained phenomena, like bite marks, levitation, and random flashes of demons from out the blackest Hell.

After the complicated plot developments in PA4 (and really, PA3, but in retrospect they weren't so brutalising then), the generic simplicity of this (teen is possessed by witch; other teens try to help him; they fail, because Paranormal Activity ceases to function as a franchise if significant percentages of the named characters survive to the end of an individual feature) is honestly refreshing, even if The Marked Ones serves its duties as a nonsensical chunk of mythology in a franchise that was at its best when it was plainest by introducing every overweening screenwriter's favorite, time-travel. Which gets its first of, I have no doubt, many workouts in a final scene that commits the cardinal sin of using fanboy-pandering coolness as a panacea for a lack of the kind of drama so taut and well-conceived that it can generate a logical, satisfying ending.

But that's not a rabbit hole with going down. The elegant sparsity and quiet of the first Paranormal Activity is long gone, and if jangling noise is going to be all we get to replace it... well, at least The Marked Ones progresses cleanly through the first 75 minutes of its plot. There's nothing fresh or rejuvenating here: the Latino angle is clearly a marketing gesture that does not meaningfully inform anything but the accents and the replacement of "witch" with "bruja" in dialogue; also, the requisite superstitious old Colorful Ethnic Lady is a grandma, not a maid, which makes her at least marginally less problematic of a representation (also a mind-melting "You're like Sherlock, holmes" joke that only a white dude would have ever though might be worth writing). But this is the typical January horror movie version of a frozen dinner: something that you ingest entirely because you know it's not going to be very good, and therefore do not run the risk of having your expectations thwarted. It yells "boo", you jump, you forget about it, and at least it's not actively painful in the process. This got the coveted The Devil Inside release slot, after all.

4/10

Thứ Tư, 8 tháng 1, 2014

MOVIES I MISSED IN 2013: TAPED OVER

V/H/S/2 begins with a scene of a seedy private eye (Lawrence Michael Levine) recording two people about to have sex in a hotel room. This event does not inform anything in the rest of the movie; it doesn't even introduce us to the character of the P.I., who'll be more formally set-up in the very next scene. But it does permit us to have a shot of tits being fondled within the first 30 seconds of the movie, and anyone who cherished the first V/H/S can tell you, tawdry high-school jock levels of respect for women are the beating heart of this horror omnibus series.

Or not, actually. The overwhelming theme of the first movie - all women are castrating she-demons - puts in not the whisper of an appearance in this sequel, and besides that first shot in the framing narrative, there's only one other snippet of (hugely gratuitous and objectifying) nudity in any of the four short films making up this anthology picture. Which is already enough to put V/H/S/2 at least half a step up from its forebear, an impression cemented when the third segment proves to be of such astronomically higher quality than anything else in either of the film that it manages completely by itself to hoist the movie over the line separating "probably nobody needs to ever see this" from "horror fans should probably see this, but maybe not anybody else". At this rate, I expect V/H/S/3 to nail the elusive "if you can't come up with any better way to spend your time, it's okay" threshold, and then we'll have ourselves a movie.

Anyway, the film takes the general form of its predecessor, a mysterious old building with a staticky TV surrounded by many VHS tapes. Or perhaps we should call them V/H/S tapes, a subtly different format for which it makes sense that visibly modern digital footage should have ended up on clunky slabs of black plastic. P.I. Larry and his assistant-girlfriend Ayesha (Kelsy Abbott) have been hired to find a missing college student, and have gone to his last place of residence to find him. Nobody seems to be there - emphasis on seems, as the human figure appearing and disappearing in the background of shots makes clear - and as Larry snoops around looking for clews, Ayesha starts digging through the tapes to find out if they contain any information. Thus does she find footage of their missing student (L.C. Holt), prattling on about the order that the tapes must be watched in, and how it does something to your head. Intrigued, Ayesha starts to watch the tapes, all of which contain documents of unexplained phenomena out in the world.

There's no real consistent quality to the four segments - five, if we count that wrap-around "Tape 49" (which theoretically means that this film takes place earlier than the last; the frame narrative there was "Tape 56"), written and directed by series mastermind Simon Barrett, one of the leading lights in modern indie horror (he also wrote the, in my opinion, wretchedly overrated You're Next). This is to be expected of anthologies, of course. The aggregate quality is still higher than V/H/S, though the gap between high and low is wider. The first segment, at any rate, is promising-ish: "Phase I Clinical Trials", written by Barrett and directed by Adam Wingard (of... You're Next), starring Wingard as a man with a terrible eye injury that makes him the perfect candidate for a new artificial eye. Which oh-so-conveniently has a recording chip in it. Anyone who's seen the Hong Kong horror film The Eye, its dreadful American remake, or just about anything, really, can see where this is headed: our hero can now sometimes see ghosts, and they are not at all friendly. Eventually, he crosses paths with a woman with artificial hearing (Hannah Hughes), who knows quite a lot more than he does, including the fact that you can make the ghosts scatter by having sex in front of them, an excuse for a boob shot so hilariously contrived that I'm actually willing to concede it might be satire.

The longer it gets, and the more it tries to explain shit, the more that "Phase I Clinical Trials" starts to get weird instead of scary, but in the early going, it's actually pretty decent, creepy mixed with jump scares in a way that actually kind of works. No such muted praise applies to "A Ride in the Park", written by Jamie Nash, directed by Gregg Hale and Eduardo Sánchez (the latter of whom got this whole game started when he co-directed the grandpappy of all "lost camcorder footage" horror pictures, The Blair Witch Project), which is an absolute dog of a short. In the woods, a cyclist (Jay Saunders) stops to help a bleeding, screaming woman (Bette Cassatt), who turns out to be a zombie. So he becomes a zombie. And so do the people who try to help him. There is nothing in this sequence that even threatens to be interesting; the brief flickers that indicate this is meant to be a comedy can be used only to justify how deeply unfrightening it is. The whole thing is filmed from a camera atop the cyclist's helmet, which gives it a feeble "YOU are the zombie!" kick, but that dies off by the first time that nothing happens for thirty seconds of static "verisimilitude". If there's any merit, it's that from a technical point of view, it's impressive how the filmmakers use sleight of hand to get their gore effects over in apparently uncut takes, but this one starts boring and gets worse, until its random birthday party massacre climax.

Things skyrocket with "Safe Haven", an Indonesian effort contributed by writer-directors Timo Tjahjanto and Gareth Huw Evans, the latter responsible for the brilliant The Raid: Redemption. It's the most pacy and plotty of the segments: a news crew manages to snag an interview with the secretive "Father" (Epy Kusnandar) of a millenarian cult. To their dismay, they find that the ticking clock happens to end at the exact time they're in the compound, and the literally apocalyptic crumbling going on around them has rather unpleasant personal ramifications. Forgive me for being vague, but it wouldn't do to spoil the surprises, which are many, and almost all wonderful (though the punchline at the very end is pretty much useless). This is by far the most imaginative of the shorts, with the most ingenious effects and, it has to be said, the flimsiest grasp of the found footage gimmick that animates the entire concept of the anthology. There are scenes which abandon it altogether, turning into a normally-edited film with barely a fig-leaf of "there's a camera here" to stitch things together. No accident that it makes the film more watchable and kinetic. It doesn't, ultimately, re-write any rules, but it offers quite a lot of energy and gory fun for those who like those things, without feeling as hamstrung as its bedfellows.

Some of that high spirit continues to the beginning of the cryptically-titled "Slumber Party Alien Abduction", which opens with a bunch of boys making a home movie about dog-eating robots, and in a flash offers the best justification for a found-footage movie in years: it's kids dicking around with a camera. The one group of people who actually would keep shooting even after some of their own start to die off, finally put front and center. And the opening few minutes, documenting pre-teen and barely-teen boys being assholes to each other, has an exquisite ring of truth; but once the slumber party tails off and the alien abduction kicks in, it becomes so noise and chaotically hand-held that it's almost impossible to follow, and from the brief snatches of aliens we see, it's just as well that we can't. Things end nastily, and because of the age of the cast, it's quite a bit more sour than in other found footage movies where things end nastily (all of them), but it caps off five minutes of such pure cinematic misery that it honestly comes as a relief when the last of the children is dead.

So that's it: one hit, one acceptable miss, one miss, and one dead-on-arrival mistake. Still a better percentage than the first movie, or most found-footage horror as a whole. It's still a hollow concept that feels more and more tired with each passing year, but at least V/H/S/2 doesn't compound its hollowness by being rancid on top of it.

6/10

Thứ Ba, 7 tháng 1, 2014

MOVIES I MISSED IN 2013: FAITH IS A FACT. NO, A FACET. I ALMOST SAID "FAITH IS A FACT"

Paradise: Faith proves me right about one thing, anyway: Ulrich Seidl's Paradise trilogy would have been better suited to being the Paradise anthology film. The first part, Paradise: Love, is a fine two hour movie that would have lost nothing and maybe gained some focus as a 40-minute sequence; Faith, meanwhile, is a two-hour movie that is actively trying. A 40-minute version of this scenario would have been weaker, I am sure, than either a 40-minute or a 112-minute Love, but it would certainly not have been as redundant, stretched-out, and airless as the version of Faith that Seidl signed off on.

The film comes from an intolerably smug and cynical place - I am by no means a cheerleader for strong religious conviction and even less for evangelical Christianity, but the character Seidl and co-writer Veronika Franz have whipped up to anchor their ironic tale (though not as caustic in its ironies as Love) feels very much like an intensely, self-destructively religious woman as conceived by somebody who flat-out doesn't understand what faith consists of for the faithful. Anna Maria (Maria Hoffstätter) isn't a person, but a cartoon; and while Margarete Tiesel's Teresa in Love (Anna Maria's sister, a fact not even cryptically alluded to in Faith) is herself more of a conceptual construct than a recognisable human in some ways, the structure of that film's story and Tiesel's performance in it both help to make the film an exploration of her psychology in ways that feel at least plausible and grounded. Nothing of the sort for poor Anna Maria, whose obsession with sexual sinfulness results in scenes of her stripping naked and scourging herself, backing away from a far-too-convenient orgy in a park while fondling her rosary lustily, or rubbing her nether regions with a giant crucifix under the covers, in a scene that is meant to be a provocation, and comes off as a shrilly literal one that is far too silly and overwrought to offend or disturb anybody. It's paint-by-numbers "crazy sexually repressed religious hypocrite" writing that Hoffstätter is quite undone by; no actress could make a plausible character out of this being, and she ends up playing to the caricatured elements rather than modulating them with anything marginally human.

Insofar as Faith has a plot, it is this: some years ago, Anna Maria's husband, an Egyptian Muslim named Nabil (Nabil Saleh), disappeared. Now he has returned, a paraplegic - though it's left pointedly vague whether he was paraplegic before, and why he left, and whose decision that was. His return significantly upsets Anna Maria's plans for summer holiday, which include taking part in a prayer group enthusiastically planning to restore Catholicism to Austria, and marching door-to-door to do missioning work, aided by a foot-tall statue of the Virgin Mary that she positions in people's homes to make them worship with her. Having a man back in the house - a man who keeps bringing up sex, either in terms of desire or in terms of his inability to have it thanks to his condition - does absolutely no good to Anna Maria's successful attempts to eroticise Jesus, and the imbalance that Nabil's presence brings pretty quickly turns to violent lashing out on both sides, and unmistakably pan-denominational terrible behavior, and a vivid demonstration of just how truly good this hyper-devout woman actually is.

It is tediously programmatic, and it is horribly redundant; there aren't all that many points to be made and all of them are made in the first and last half-hours, which leads a huge chunk of movie devoted only to reiterating and repeating things we've already seen, and finding new ways to make Anna Maria's sexual repression creepier and more appalling. It is, altogether, the movie that Love kept threatening to be, and always managed to dodge away from: an unmitigated exercise in nastiness for the sake of nastiness, hysterical Austrian cinema of cruelty in which the main character is subjected to viciousness from herself and others that demonstrates to the audience nothing except our own capacity for watching self-flagellation before we grow bored of it. Whereas Love had some reasonably interesting things to say about social codes and self-definition (and also some very tired things to say about relations between Europe and Africa), Faith is delighted to traffic heavily in clichés both narrative and aesthetic, with its very samey feeling intensified rather than disguised by the savagery of what's being depicted onscreen.

There's one exception to all of this, and that's Anna Maria's missioning. Thrice in the movie, she ends up some poor victim's house to preach her deprivation-besotted version of Catholicism to them, and these shaggy scenes are by far the liveliest and most interesting scenes in the film, the only places where it feels like humans are involved and not blank spots on Seidl's Euroart Mad Libs. This despite feeling somewhat like improvisational acting exercises, where Hofstätter and the people she's acting against have each been given a single goal and told to spend five minutes chasing it without variation; but the way that these scenes spill out and go on past the point of reason (particularly the third, when Anna Maria struggles to give advice to a belligerent drunk) is, itself, fairly energetic and captivating, sort of like watching high-wire artists. There's always a sense that something will have to give, and it never does, and this ends up giving a much clearer insight into who Anna Maria is and why we might possibly want to study her more closely than all the self-abuse in the rest of the film could ever do.

Outside of those scenes, making up far too little of the overall running time, Faith is a whole lot of nothing: perfectly generic frames that stand still for very long in the fashion of glacial European art films, as a woman raves and raves and never gives us any insight into anything. If this is meant to give us some understanding about humanity, it fails on the level of lacking any humans; it its meant to shock us in our complacency, it fails on the level of being abysmally boring. This is the most rote, obnoxious kind of "fuck you, audience" filmmaking, as unimaginative as it is mean.

4/10