 Really gotta zoom in to understand Director: Hiroshi Teshigahara No other crew listed. by Jon Cvack Antonio Gaudi is the fourth and last film available from Netflix from Japanese director Hiroshi Teshigahara, best known for his Criterion trilogy of Pitfall (1962), Woman in the Dunes (1964), and Face of Another (1966). He’s the kind of director I want to love but only like, as the trilogy’s individual concepts exceed the execution by just a hair (though Woman in the Dunes remains my favorite). They’re close to fascinating films, but abstraction prevents it. My fiance’s mom bought us an Antonio Gaudi book a couple Christmases ago and it was the first time I’ve seen the artist. Combined with a director who’s only made cerebral sci-fi/supernatural narratives, I was left hoping for the The Last Waltz (1978) of artist documentaries. Instead, it’s mostly a silent film showing off the extensive pieces Gaudi created throughout Barcelona. For those unfamiliar, he was primarily an architect, utilizing a style that feels influenced by fairy tales, with flowing molds up and down and around the structures, often with detailed tile work that strangely looks both improvised and deliberate. It’s reading his Wikipedia that I realize how little I know about architecture (not that I know much of anything), as I struggle to understand even a fraction of the influences Gaudi has taken from other movements. With such a superficial understanding, I was left only with my immediate experience with the work. Given that most of it was confined to Barcelona, the first thing you grasp is the sheer ubiquity of his creations. At nearly 80 minutes long and rarely spending more than five minutes on any given piece and often only half that, to think that all of these magnificent pieces exist within the same city which enhances their allure. His cathedrals are by far the most impressive, as similar to the problems of explaining how I reacted to a given song, it’s only by seeing the structures and the way Teshigahara filmed them, that you can understand the vast amount of detail that went into these pieces, and how the fact that there’s even more than just a few is an accomplishment. The film ends as crews build his latest cathedral, which includes the fantastically shaped winding spires that extend far into the sky and above the city; scene for miles in any direction. We hear that he was thrilled to know he’d have to pass on his design to others, knowing that they would do their best to honor his vision while also adding their style. While building either this piece or another church, he was so moved by the experience, that like Jesus, he fasted to wash himself of his sins; going over thirty days before his friends and family had to step in to save his life. The movie is a great introduction to an artist’s unique vision, but it leaves you wanting to know more about the man and how his style came to be and what he was attempting to do. Then again, for anyone who’s fully versed in Gaudi and art history, this gentle meditation might be the perfect film to put on; impeded by novice knowledge.* *It was digging into the Criterion Collection page for the film that I see that sure enough the second disc contains a documentary on Gaudi and his life’s work; though I’m not entirely sure why this required two discs. BELOW: A CBS short on the architect Like what you read? Support the site on Patreon Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page
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 Someone gave the fantastic note of killing off the film's best characters within the first third of the movie Director: Renny Harlin Writer: Brian Helgeland and Ken and Jim Wheats; story by William Kotzwinkle and Brian Helgeland Cinematographer: Steven Fierberg Producer: Robert Shaye and Rachel Talalay by Jon Cvack I won’t repeat what I’ve already said in my thoughts on the first three films, other than to emphasize that what’s required for the film’s to work are both good characters and remaining within the parameters of a monster killing children in their dreams, often done with imaginative nightmare sequences. This film is an example of where, counter to the second, the film abides by the latter and completely neglects the former. It takes three of the characters from Dream Warriors (1987) - Kincaid, Kristen, and Joey - who have returned to high school where Kristen is now dating a martial artist Rick Johnson (Andras Jones), who’s new to town alongside his sister Alice (Lisa Wilcox). They’re also friends with a nerd named Sheila (Toy Newkirk) and fitness freak/bug hater Debbie (Brooke Theiss). Soon Kristen, Kincaid, and Joey are all killed off, and the rest follow one by one. The issue is that the characters are equally forgettable. I’m not sure why they chose to bring back some of the cast from Dream Warriors, only to kill them off within the first thirty minutes; replacing them with nothing beyond double word archetypes. There is a complete absence of chemistry between them. Counter to Dream Warriors where we understood their shared bonds, I was left wondering why any of them were even friends. A nerd, a martial artist, a fitness freak, a jock, and the girl next door. They felt created specifically for their deaths; made all worse in that most of their deaths weren’t even memorable. It seems the easiest thing to accomplish is to create creative and disturbing dream sequences where almost anything is possible, but I finished this film just a few days ago though I already struggle to remember any of the deaths beyond Rick’s ridiculous kung fu battle and Debbie turning into a cockroach. The film is not terrible. It’s watchable and far better than the immediate sequel, and provides a satisfying climax as Kristen battles Freddy in a nightmarish cathedral. But everything is mediocre, likely chalked up to bringing aboard a director far inferior to Wes Craven and Chuck Russel. It felt rushed, as though a first draft to what could have been great. The filmmakers had it them - the cockroach scene, the conclusion; there were moments that worked. The rest felt like a quick rush to yet another movie. BELOW: One of the few memorable - and ridiculous - scenes Like what you read? Support the site on Patreon Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page  One of my favorite Krueger murder weapons Director: Chuck Russell Writer: Wes Craven, Bruce Wagner, Frank Darabont, and Chuck Russell Producer: Robert Shaye Cinematographer: Roy H. Wagner by Jon Cvack Continued from Part 1... Around the hospital, Dr. Gordon had been seeing an eerie nun wandering the corridors. Leaving the hospital and ending up in the church, she reveals that Krueger was once a patient at the hospital; the child of a young nun who was accidentally locked in with the patient as they pummeled and assaulted her; going on to say that the only way to officially destroy Krueger is for them to bury the bones with the mother. It leads Dr. Gordon to ask Nancy where he can find her father who had managed the case. Donald Thompson (John Saxon) returns as a drunk who hasn’t spoken to Nancy in years; now a security guard or street cop. Things erupt between him and Nancy and Nancy returns to the hospital while Dr. Gordon implores Donald to help him find the bones. Nancy follows the kids into another group hypnosis in an effort to kill Freddy once and for all. In another brilliant piece of practical effects, we see Taryn outside of some punk dive bar; no longer disheveled but back to her old punk self; imagining herself to have a pair of switchblades. She gets a stab in before Freddy raises his hands, revealing five syringe fingers filled with heroin. Taryn fails to refuse and he stabs her, causing an overdose. In pure 80s VFX goodness, a now walking Will uses wizardy to combat Freddy, zapping him with some type of spell that looks like a Ghostbusters Proton ray, paralyzing Freddy for a moment until he breaks free and stabs Will dead. While they’re in the dreamland, Donald takes Dr. Gordon to a junkyard and another amazing set piece where they dig up Freddy’s remains (assumed to be part of the sequel’s final set piece). When they find the skeletons, another phenomenal use of stop motion occurs, in which the bones reassemble and Freddy’s skin follows and he rises up and kills Donald. Battling a dual front, Nanchy, Kristen, Joey, and Kincaid find one another and help push him to the other side and he’s floats in between, killing Nancy, though Dr. Corbin gets him back into the pit and douses him with holy water, burning him alive and destroying Freddy once again. At the funeral, Dr. Corbin sees Sister Mary Helega once again, following her to a plot where she disappears and Corbin discovers her name as Amanda Krueger. For fans of horror and slashers in particular, it’s difficult to argue that this is one of the best. It maximizes the imagery allowed within the parameters. I’m one of the few people I know who love the Saw series - almost every single one (minus the sequel). People complain about the violence and how its torture porn, but it’s simply another movement in horror films; subsequently replaced by a series of found footage and home invasion films, to which those were replaced by the current - and most exciting movement of Art House horror films. What makes Saw films engaging are the set pieces; what more could they possibly think and how this question extends across over eight films; most of which refuse to get fancy or abandon what works or improve the history or arching narrative. Instead, they take the format of a series of characters to be butchered by complex and terrifying machines and frequently provide fresh renditions. Counter to its sequels (New Nightmare notwithstanding) this is what the other films have failed to accomplish. The movies work best when there are interesting characters battling the simple plot of a monster attacking them in their dreams. It allows a filmmakers’ minds to run wild; what worlds and carnage could they create within the confines of a nightmare, what images could they find that would burn into our minds no differently than the syringe hand, blood bed, or being attacked on the ceiling, as though by a ghost. Beginning A Nightmare on Elm Street 4: The Dream Master (1988) while writing this, it too drops the ball; failing to provide much of character or situation. It’s facile. There is a group of new teenage victims and we’re provided with cursory glances. At the halfway point, it seems that there’s a desire to expand the victim to those beyond Elm Street; again, breaking what was working just fine to begin with. Dream Master and Freddy’s Revenge also speak to Wes Craven and Chuck Russell’s master of craft; clearly working hard to ensure that the world is combined with memorable images. It goes to a longstanding theory I’ve discussed over the last few years in which high craft - from set design, to blocking, camera movement and composition to make up and effects - while the casual viewer might not understand why what they’re watching is good, they sense it. It’s like music. We don’t know why some songs are better than others, but we often discover that those better songs are better crafted when the hood is lifted. The other two sequels feel vapid and lazy; as though it was about quickly turning out another film rather than trying to make one that could stand up to alongside the slasher classics. BELOW: Death by Television Like what you read? Support the site on Patreon Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page  The beginning of the amazing set pieces Director: Chuck Russell Writer: Wes Craven, Bruce Wagner, Frank Darabont, and Chuck Russell Producer: Robert Shaye Cinematographer: Roy H. Wagner by Jon Cvack After a disastrous sequel, Dream Warriors returns as arguably the Four Horsemen’s greatest sequels; matched perhaps only by A New Nightmare (1994), though I’d argue that Craven’s return was more cinema exploring slasher horror rather than slasher horror alone. Dream Warriors provides an entire film of what the first Nightmare on Elm Street (1984), only half provided; a brilliant set up for a horror film involving a horribly burned man, possibly the devil, who exists in the dreams of young teenagers, killing them off one by one. The premise was based on an article Wes Craven read about kids allegedly dying in their dreams. It’s a simple and perfect setup; requiring little beyond knowing you have to kill him in real life to destroy him. The issue with the original is that it shifts away from this premise - bending or breaking its own logic in order to serve an overwrought premise that would have benefited from simplification. The second half plays like a fourth or fifth film in a series; explaining something that we’re not yet interested in. How Freddie can escape into the real world. Dream Warriors recovers this problem, focusing entirely on the initial plot of teenagers experiencing the dreams and slowly discovering a way to battle the monster as he gets closer to kill each of them off. Moving beyond the suburbs and high school students it turns to an asylum where a group of young people experience various forms of mental illness; one by one having their nightmares. The only mystery is why them, but the question isn’t important. It’s supplemental. Regardless of who they are, Freddy Krueger’s targeting them. The story opens with Patricia Arquette Kristen Parker who’s up in the middle of the night, building a creepy house out of popsicle sticks, glue, and dark paint. Her mom enters the room, wearing a dress, wondering what Kristen is still doing up; asking if she’ll go back to bed. A man downstairs then calls up. It’s a scene that reminds me of the first; providing the littlest bit of information to describe a home life using a combination of wardrobe, character type, make up, and attitude to show a relationship. It takes no more than a minute because it needs no more than a minute. Kristen then falls asleep and dreams of Freddy Krueger. She enters the bathroom and grabs the faucet handles which are in the shape of claws which shift into Freddy’s hands in a beautiful effect, entirely holding up on BluRay. It grabs her wrist while the other rises up, its pipes now gaunt bone with raw bloody muscle. It turns into claws and slices Kristin who then wakes up. Her mother enters the bathroom, finding her daughter with cut wrists. She takes Kristin to a mental institution run by Dr. Neil Gordon (Craig Wasson) who examines her for suicide. When they try to sedate her, Kristin freaks out, requiring the orderlies to come in to restrain her. Dr. Gordon then tells her mother that he needs to retain her indefinitely. Although only made three years afterwards, Nancy Thompson returns as Heather Langenkamp, six years after the first film and now training to be a psychiatrist. She meets the rest of the patients who are some of the best supporting cast in any horror sequel, a crazed aspiring actress Jennifer (Penelope Sudrow); Kincaid (Ken Sagoes) as the explosively volatile kid from the streets; Philip (Bradley Gregg ) as the frequent illustrator, puppet builder, and somnambulist; the paraplegic and subsequently suicidal Will (Ira Heiden); a struggling heroin addict Taryn (Jennifer Rubin); and a trauma victim Joey (Rodney Eastman) who hasn’t spoken since. Each character is as unique as the other, provided with full and vibrant personalities and situated within an environment that allows us to get to know them and their relationships. As grim as the place and as tragic as the events, it feels more like their schoolmates rather than patients. Dr. Gordon is one of the film’s most complex characters. He's a kind and gentle man, single and in his mid-40s. Entirely dedicated to his work. He then meets Nancy, and as predatory as their professional relationship is, Craig Wasson makes it seem pure and honest; a mixture of genuine attraction over her care and mind, along with his instincts to help. While reluctant at first to buy Heather’s theories on the matter, he’s soon swayed. Philip is the first to fall asleep, and in the film’s coolest sequence, one of Philips puppets shifts via stop motion into Freddy Krueger, who cuts himself free and walks up to Philip’s bed, cutting open his forearms and removing his tendons, pulling him like a puppet out and up into the bell tower. The group yells to wake him up, only seeing his arms raised, then watching as he falls to his death. The episode makes Dr. Gordon desperate and he agrees to try Nancy’s approach; having them all fall asleep together in order to learn how to unite and beat Krueger. Before they fall asleep, Nancy explains that each of the children are descendants of the remaining Elm Street families. It’s a point that simply lays the foundation; requiring no more than a few seconds explanation and reaction. It serves no grander purpose than allowing us to understand why these particular children were selected. They then fall asleep and find themselves still in the group therapy room which starts to burn down all around them as Freddy is heard on the other side of the wall in all directions. When they wake up, a woman fires Dr. Gordon, providing one of a handful of weak plot points. I’m not sure what sudden authority this person had. It places Nancy in care of the patients and gets Dr. Gordon out of the office where he investigates beyond the hospital. Continue to Part 2... BELOW: Heroin fingers Like what you read? Support the site on Patreon Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page  He just ain't the same Norman Director: Richard Franklin Writer: Tom Holland; based onCharacters created by Robert Bloch Cinematographer: Dean Cundey Producer: Hilton A. Green and Bernard Schwartz by Jon Cvack Allegedly Quentin Tarantino stated he thought this film was better than the original which, if true, makes me question whether Tarantino actually has good taste in movies. To think this film is in any way superior to Hitchcock’s masterpiece and one of cinema’s all time greats strings credulity. It’s a movie that gets better every time I watch it; to the point where I knew I had to just bite the bullet and see what sequels had to offer. I thought nothing could be worse than A Nightmare on Elm Street Part 2 (1985) this year, but this film is a close runner up. It takes place 22 years later as Norman Bates (Anthony Perkins) is released from the hospital with the help of his lawyer Dr. Bill Raymond (Robert Loggia) who vouches that he’s cured. Marion’s sister Lila Loomis attends the proceeding, still played by (Vera Miles) who disagrees with the ruling, declaring that Norman’s still a murderer. Norman returns back to his home and motel, using the same, now famous Universal backlot set. The hotel is now run by the film’s best character Warren Toomey (Dennis Franz) who’s let the place slide into a drug and sex destination; stating that there’s no other way to attract customers. The odd thing is that although Norman has a hotel to run, he’s forced to get a job at a diner where he meets Mary Samuels (Meg Tilly). When she breaks up with her boyfriend, Norman invites her to stay over at his house. She agrees, the two head back and Norman continues to see and hear his mother get murderous ideations. In one scene, he fixes Mary a sandwich, finding a butcher knife, pulling it out and exhibiting nearly every indication to Mary that he’s about to stab her, though she doesn’t fully seem to grasp the situation - a troubled man bringing her back to his creepy mansion where he gleams over a knife. From there the film falls into complete disaster, running far too long to make any of the murders worth the long waits. Mary essentially moves in with Norman in order to help with his issues and so a mystery unravels, revealing that Mary is Lila’s daughter, and that the cook at the diner, Emma Spool (Claudia Bryar) is actually Norman’s mother who gave Norman to her sister. It’s not a terrible turn of events, but at nearly two hours long, the good stuff simply takes too long to get to and what happens in-between doesn’t quite pass the time. Anthony Perkins is odd to the point of distraction, no longer possessing that uneasy and psychotic persona. The performance is odd and feels fake, pulling me out of most scenes. The other issue is that for the vast majority of the film, we’re asked to accept that Mary just so happens to not mind staying with a peculiar and unhinged, former ward of the state who keeps hearing his mother tell him to kill. It makes sense when explained, but up until that point, it breaks credulity. Either people don’t buy it, or they’ve figured it out. It just doesn’t work. Once Warren gets killed, there’s little else that kept me engaged with the film. By the time I reached the last third, I was pissed that I had to waste another night on finishing the thing. It’s made poorly. The scares aren’t engaging or effective. Most of the characters feel like parodies. It never makes an effort to capture the errieness of the Bates Motel. The original worked because we had no idea what to expect; going so far as to kill its main character off midway through. We didn’t know if the mother was the killer, or something supernatural, or if Norman was psychotic. After it’s all explained there’s very little left to explore. As decent as the ending could have been, it doesn’t add anything. It just saturates a great recipe. Hitchcock accomplished the rare, achieved by perhaps only The Shining (1980), in being a horror film that prevents a functional sequel. Psycho is a completely full and perfect story that doesn’t need to go any further. BELOW: About as good as it gets, and that ain't saying much Like what you read? Support the site on Patreon Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page  It's got a badass intro, though Director: Jack Sholder Writer: David Chaskin Cinematographer: Jacques Haitkin and Christopher Tufty Producer: Robert Shaye by Jon Cvack This film has to be the worst sequel to the major slasher film series. In my previous thoughts on A Nightmare on Elm Street (1984), I mentioned how a bad horror film will distract your attention. Rather than remaining fully immersed within the environment you become aware of what you’re watching; particularly the illogic or ridiculousness of certain scenes and moments. If frequent enough, the distraction starts to make time slow down. The last ten minutes of this film were amongst the longest I’ve recalled. The movie opens up with a cool scene. High schooler Jesse Walsh (Mark Patton) boards a bus which is driven by Freddie who takes them off and into the desert where the ground soon falls apart, leaving them on a narrow cliff as though a cartoon, the bus rocking back and forth. Jesse wakes up and we learn that he and his family have just moved into Nancy’s old house. A random girl Lisa Webber (Kim Myers) immediately asks for a ride and two crush on one another. Jesse gets in a fight with a local jock at school Ron Grady (Robert Rusler) but the two become friends shortly after. Jesse continues having dreams and we learn that Freddie is attempting to coerce or possess him in order to continue the murders in real life. The house is also dealing with some poltergeist activity where their pet bird explodes, the toaster catches on fire, and the air conditioner fails to work no matter how many times the dad fixes it. One evening, Jesse has a nightmare that he kills the coach that punished him. He wakes up to discover it really happened. There’s a high school party that makes me honestly question if the storytellers had their own struggles in grasping reality. Lisa has a party and her parents to go to sleep. The dozens of kids then roll out the alcohol and start making out and having sex, all while the parents fail to notice as they have their own intimate moment. Jesse and Lisa almost have sex but Jesse almost provides oral with Freddie’s tongue, leaves, goes to Ron’s, kills Ron, gets absolutely covered in blood, and in a scene that might be one of the top three most ridiculous things I’ve ever watched, returns to Lisa, admits to the killing the coach and Ron (still covered in blood), and Lisa doesn’t care at all. It’s not ironic, it’s not melodramatic, she simply acts like what Jesse is telling him is no different than admitting he had a simple fight with his parents. Freddie resurrects via Jesse at the backyard party and provides a somewhat cool scene minus some exploding hot dogs and Lisa’s dad grabbing a shotgun from a gun cabinet and failing to hit Freddie from only a few yards away. Freddie escapes and Lisa goes to the plant where the neighbors burned him alive and lights Freddie on fire, somehow bringing back Jesse and it all makes so little sense that my brain couldn’t even try to rationalize what was going on. The plot is decent enough in having Freddie want to use a surrogate to enter the real world, but I was left wondering why they were trying to reinvent the wheel. It could have been so easy if they just stuck to the original formula. Freddie comes to the new kid in his dreams. Like Halloween II (1981), it would have just been a larger version of the original story; no longer needing to explain that Freddie can enter the real world with throwaway scenes. It’d use more money to create a larger world. Instead, it was this. Made worse by clearly having scenes that just didn’t work, edited down to the bare bones to just move things along; providing that gawky, ill-equipped feel that sequel directors often have. I’d have to return to The Texas Chainsaw Massacre 2 (1986) and Friday the 13th (1981), but I’m pretty sure this is the worst immediate sequel to the famous four. BELOW: Should have been a flag at "pool party" Like what you read? Support the site on Patreon Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page  In terms of world building, it's tough to beat Craven Director: Wes Craven Writer: Wes Craven Cinematography: Jacques Haitkin Producer: Robert Shaye by Jon Cvack Every Scary Movie Month there’s at least one classic horror film I’m excited to go back to. This year was A Nightmare on Elm Street where I bought the BluRay boxset in the hopes of revisiting all of the films. I hadn’t checked out the series since college and can remember little beyond the first one being my second favorite first film of the four classic slasher series and that A New Nightmare (1994) was not just a great sequel but a great piece of cinema overall; serving as the harbinger to Scream (1996) and its horror film within a horror film self-awareness. As for the other sequels, I couldn’t remember much of anything, which could be a sign enough of what’s to come. I was surprised to find how little I remembered about A Nightmare Elm Street beyond the initial plot of four friends who began dying in their nightmares. It’s one of the films that scared the living shit out of me when growing up, where prior to seeing it’d I repeatedly watch the clip of Nancy running up the stairs where he feet fall into the steps, covered in sticky hot goo as she tries to escape Freddie. When I finally watched the film around 10 or 11 at my older sister’s sleepover, I remember how horrifying his long arms in the alley were - an image that played in head on repeat before I finally had to wake up my parents in the middle of the night. To think that this film is almost thirty five years old is a jarring demonstration in time and how cinematic violence evolved. The film somehow still feels modern; more so than Halloween (1978), The Texas Chainsaw Massacre (1974), or Friday the 13th (1980). More similar to Saw (2004), what makes A Nightmare on Elm Street work is its nightmare sequences - allowing the imagination to run wild. As I’ve said before, I’m far from the biggest fan of surrealistic cinema or dream sequences, but similar to Sopranos, it’s the very style of Freddie’s world that makes it work. I’m not watching this round to be scared so much as see how imaginative they get. The story opens on images of his famous claw being made in the basement, then shifting to Tina Gray (Amanda Wyss) stuck in a nightmare, chased by a man with claws. She wakes up to find her dress cut as though by a claw; her haggard mom and deadbeat dad entering the room, making sure she’s not dead, and telling her to cut it out. The next day at school, she tells her best friend Nancy (Heather Langenkamp) and her boyfriend Glen Lantz (Johnny Depp) about the episode who both admit that they too had dreams about the figure, remembering only abstract images. Nancy and Glen decide to stay at Tina’s house that night to keep her company, later joined by Tina’s bad boy boyfriend Rod (Nick Corri) who immediately takes her upstairs and the pair have sex. Glen attempts to make a move on Nancy who turns him down and the two sleep in separate beds. Before Tina and Rod head to sleep, Rod admits to having the a similar Freddie dream. Tina then falls asleep and the nightmare continues and Freddie makes his official appearance, chasing her around the house and soon extending his arms in a terrifying sequence before tackling her to the ground. The scene then cuts as Rod watches Tiny being spun around the bed, dragging her up the wall and across the ceiling where blood is pouring out of wounds before she finally falls like a rag doll. Nancy and Glen break into the room, finding Rod gone. The police arrive and we discover that one of the officers Lieutenant Donald Thompson (John Saxon) is Nancy’s father and suspects Rod as the murderer. The next day on her way to school, Rod grabs her from the bushes and tries to explain what happened before the police close in; her dad suspecting that Rod would try and get in contact with the daughter. Running on little sleep, Nancy falls asleep in school, with Craven providing yet another horrifying sequence as she looks out into the hallway and finds Tina bloodied up in a body bag, then dragged across the floor as though by an invisible ghost. Nancy is led to a boiler room where she burns her arm on a pipe, waking her up to discover she still has the wound. At the midpoint, the film is a close to perfect horror film, containing only fragments of that cheesy 80s style where jokes, actions, and blocking don’t entirely make sense. But for the most part the film works, pulling us along as we anticipate where and how Freddie will strike next. The world is logical - there is a monster killing teenagers in their dreams, but they remain free in the real world; creating a challenge for them to remain awake or face death. However, it’s also where the film takes its first initial misstep, attempting some sort of Exorcist moment by having Marge take Nancy to a sleep clinic where they hook her up and watch her dreams. Things look normal at first until she enters REM and we watch from Marge and the doctor’s perspective as she’s attacked once again. They wake her up, discovering she’s been cut by Freddie’s claws and that she also grabbed his hat. My suspicion is that given that Nancy needed to bring Freddie into the real world to destroy him, Craven provided this moment to set the logic. The issue isn’t even necessarily that he merged the two disparate worlds, but that even with cameras recording and Nancy bringing a hat into a room with Freddie Krueger’s name on it - which she didn’t have before - neither the doctors nor Marge find any reason to keep her there for safety, rendering the whole scenes purpose seemed superfluous beyond providing the logic of pulling the imaginary into the real. The film then continues to dip as Nancy heads home and further avoids sleep by taking caffeine pills and drinking endless pots of coffee. The set up is amazing - how long could a teenager possibly go without sleep and becoming completely mad. Craven touches on the subject, showing Nancy transform into a disheveled mess; strands of her hair soon turning gray. Her mom soon explains that years ago, there was a child murderer in town, who after being caught, was released on a technicality. The parents then formed a mob, hunted him down and killed Freddie by burning him alive in the boiler room. It’s another set up that I don’t think is fully explored - in which it seems like there could have been a better motive for Freddie going after Nancy if she was one of the children whose life was threatened, perhaps she was too young to remember. Nancy decides to meet Glen at midnight in order to fall asleep and grab Freddie and bring him into the real world. However, after Marge puts bars all over the home’s windows, Glen’s parents find Nancy a nutcase and prevent Glen from seeing her. Glen then falls asleep and in the film’s most famous sequence, swallows into his bed where a geyser of blood shoots up into the ceiling; serving as one of the longest standing cinematic images that’s been burned into my mind. Nancy sees the police arrive and tries to escape but her drunk mother has locked her inside the house. Here was another plot-serving device in that it seemed like the filmmakers required a way to trap Nancy inside, resorting to the mother locking her inside and getting wasted rather than protecting her daughter as she slept. Instead, Nancy proceeds to set up a series of boobie traps; including a sledgehammer that’ll fall from the door and light bulbs somehow packed with gun powder, then setting her watch for ten minutes and falling asleep in order to bring Freddie back and destroy him. This somehow all gets done within minutes, at least compared to the timeline of having Glen dead across the street where Nancy’s father resides. After a creepy boiler room sequence, Nancy succeeds in bringing Freddie back, but realizing the house is locked, she calls out to the police in the movie’s most absurd sequence. Even though three of her friends have died and she’s screaming for her life, the street cop figures that Nancy is overreacting and refuses to tell anyone. It’s the type of scene that pulls you out of a movie; made all the more infuriating for how well the story avoided cheap logic breaks for the majority. Nancy then explodes the gunpowder light bulb, igniting him on fire who then chases her into the basement; the smoke finally being enough to grab the police’s attention. Donald and the officers break in, heading down where they see flamed footprints leading upstairs where they find Freddie atop of Marge’s body; the two then disappear into the mattress. Nancy’s dad leaves her once again, but this time Nancy turns her back on him; a throwback to earlier scenes when Glen offers the advice of turning your back on nightmare monsters. Freddie dives at her and the screen washes to a beautiful morning where Nancy heads outside into a sunny, though smoggy day. Glen, Tina, and Rod pick her up in a red convertible. Nancy gets in, but the roof then collapses, revealing the red and green colors of Freddie’s sweater. Nancy screams to get out, but her mom just waves her on. For some reason I always forget about how much the second half tanks, but after watching the sequel, I now know why. Bad logic in horror films pulls you out of the moment. Beyond A New Nightmare and Dream Warriors (1987), I remember none of the sequels; and I’m anticipating it’s because they’re all terrible (SPOILER: I was wrong; big time). A Nightmare on Elm Street saving grace is that the characters and craft are operating at full gear, and while the logic bends, it only breaks a few times. Prior to revisiting it, I was convinced that it was the second best horror film from the four horsemen. I’m now wanting to go back to The Texas Chainsaw Massacre. BELOW: The scariest image of my childhood Like what you read? Support the site on Patreon Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page  The most beautiful inserts I've ever seen in a movie Director: Robert Bresson Writer: Robert Bresson; based The Forged Coupon by Leo Tolstoy Cinematographer: Pasqualino De Santis and Emmanuel Machuel Producer: Jean-Marc Henchoz and Daniel Toscan du Plantier by Jon Cvack Coincidentally, just a few weeks prior to watching this film, I had viewed the 2019 Hollywood Reporter Writers Roundtable. It was a pretty interesting discussion, featuring amongst others, Paul Schrader, who mentioned that the inspiration for Taxi Driver (1976) had come from Bresson films - specifically mentioning Pickpocket (1959) and Diary of a Country Priest (1951). I’ve never seen the latter, though the story seems fairly similar in style. First Reformed was the best of 2018. It’s a story that stuck with me all year long; where I find myself thinking about it over and over again as the grim climate change news continues to pour in and the impact grows more dire and extreme each year. It’s such a massive problem that would require such unfathomable change that people will do as little as they can until it impacts them, and by the time such an event happens to enough people, we will be long past the point of no return. The odds close down every day, and we’re beginning to see the devastation - with hurricanes, forest fires, tornadoes, and temperatures all at record breaking extremes, and still nothing is being done and half the country refuses to acknowledge the problem. It was hearing Paul Schrader mention Bresson’s influence, that I immediately understood the influence, especially after watching L’Argent. Similar to First Reformed, L’Argent conveys a devastating cynicism. In some of the most beautiful images I can remember seeing all year, the movie is about a delivery driver who unknowingly spends counterfeit money he accepted from some kids; landing himself in prison, derailing his life and pushing him into the grimmest possible outcome. To describe each scene without going into great detail would be an injustice to how significant each shot is. The colors and actions are so crisp and perfect, with each shot looking as though it was a combination of a precise natural painting and photograph. In the Criterion supplements, critic James Quandt goes through a literal A - Z list to expound on an idea per letter - from Marxist undertones through Nietzsche and its use of diegetic music; not only how it relates to this film, but all of Bresson’s films.* It’s the type of essay that makes you feel inadequate to discuss the movie, as there is so much to unpack that only repeated viewings could possibly provide the confidence to discuss. All I have for this first viewing is the feeling it left me with. Not since rewatching There Will Be Blood have I so loved each and every image I’ve seen; in which there was an anticipation for what would come next - how it’d be composed, blocked, and assembled. I do not like using cutaway inserts when filming action, though it’s often necessary to find a cheap way around more elaborate setups, and yet somehow Bresson achieves the opposite - as the seemingly endless thread of close ups, showing people grabbing, handling, pushing, and reacting to all that’s going on around them is absolutely stunning to see. One of the first images is that of a pair of dirty red gloved hands, unscrewing a hose from a red fire hydrant. The nozzle head is a dark gray blue, matching the delivery driver’s blue uniform, and as is normal when film achieves its highest artistic ability, words fail to describe why this is an absolutely beautiful and haunting shot. From there are paper notes unfolded, a bowl spilling some coffee, a large ladle sliding across cold concrete and into a wall. The images are supported with a combination of hyper realistic sound design (in which Bresson punches up certain otherwise banal sound effects, such as clothespins snapping over laundry lines), often with a voice or action carrying. L’Argent functions in opposition to spectacle - arguably even more impressive than some of the longest tracking shots. In one moment, we see a hand enter the frame and grab a man’s jacket, hearing the sounds of bowls, silverware, and a table dropping, only going on to see the aftermath. In another shot, there’s a bowl filled with coffee and a man slaps a woman in the face. All we see is the bowl tip and spill and yet it’s impact is harsh. Only supreme craftsmanship utilizing the magic of cinema could make a bowl that tips some coffee out be forever etched into my mind - like the cup of seltzer water from Taxis Driver or the water cup from Jurassic Park (1993). Recently I watched Fellini’s Satyricon (1969) and Hitchcock’s Topaz (1969) - two incredibly mediocre films as compared to what their authors accomplished prior. So few filmmakers have been able to continue producing great work in their later years. Tarantino has many times specified that he’s going to stop making films after his tenth. To think that Bresson was able to achieve cinema of the highest order on his last film is an unprecedented feat and I’m left wondering if it has something to do with that hungry yearning to express an idea that led to the accomplishment. The issue most of cinema's greatest filmmakers experience is that by the time they reach their golden years, all they have done to progress the art forward has been replicated and imitated, both by themselves and others. In the case of L’Argent, what I saw felt like a person at the peak of their career. Bresson somehow was able to make a deeply cynical story beautiful. Then again, most of the greatest works of world art possess the same; conveying emotion that we don’t entirely understand, but we just connect to. Or maybe it’s simply the perfect film for where we all are in March 2019 and we’re going. So little is being done to address our most serious problems, with no attempt to bridge our differences, that it feels though the whole system is on the verge of snapping; exactly as Bresson had anticipated. *James Quandt somehow made one of the film’s titles sound as good as food by the end of the hour long essay. BELOW: Only cool scene from the movie; one of Hitch's best shots Like what you read? Support the site on Patreon Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page  We all that restaurant Director: Barry Levinson Writer: Barry Levinson Cinematographer: Peter Sova Producer: Jerry Weintraub by Jon Cvack Just today (as of writing this on Jan 19, 2019) on Slate’s Political Gabfest’s “Cocktail Chatter”, David Platz warned the audience about something incendiary he was about to say, following up with the story of watching Raider’s of the Lost Ark (1981) with his kid and his friend for the first time. He describes his memory of the movie the way most of us do - the spectacular effects, adventure, one of his favorites growing up; quickly discovering that he failed to comprehend the barrage of racist and misogynistic elements. All of the non-white characters are bad. The one who isn’t fauns and nearly faints over the fact of getting a peck on the cheek from the white woman. The woman plays little purpose beyond a sex symbol who’s waddling over Jones. John Dickerson even goes on to say how underwhelming the special effects now are. It’s one of the few times I can recall a passionate disagreement with the man. Revisiting the film, I noted some of the problems in my thoughts, but when I think of how this film was made almost forty years ago, I’m willing to forgive. It’s the type of film that serves as a historical document; beloved by most and yet including these offensive elements. It’s also text that people can point to in demonstrating the progression underrepresented groups have made in popular film. Something like this would never be made, and I’m sure at the time most were wondering exactly the big deal was when the fringe academic crowd discussed its whiteness. The same reassessment is going on for countless other classic films - Revenge of the Nerds (1984), Animal House (1978), License to Drive (1980), Sixteen Candles (1984), and many other 80s(ish) comedies now demonstrate deeply misogynistic elements; often in regards to jokes about rape, or even raping in the case of Animal House. I think so long as the viewer acknowledges these offenses, it’s possible to keep watching these films and appreciate the majority of otherwise decent, or even, good storytelling. It’s similar to the debate of removing the N-word from "The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn" (1885). While I don’t agree with changing art, the intention is noble in and of itself - to make the material accessible to as many people as possible; alienating no group in the process. Diner is a film I’ve seen two or three times. A movie I very much enjoy and yet never really think to put on first when nostalgic for a taste of the past. I don’t believe I’ve seen it since moving out to LA, making its midwestern feel (though it took place Baltimore) drive it all the more home. Combined with watching this while home for winter break in Chicago, on DVD with my parent’s old 2000s 720 HD flat screen television with no external sound system, and I went down the sentimental k-hole. The film follows a group of five friends, each in their early 20s and in various stages of their early adulthood. Edward Simmons (Steve Guttenberg) is a facetious neurotic; playing the ignorant victim card and knowing every time he’s doing it. About to get married, he has demanded his fiance pass a 100 question Baltimore Colts trivia test (this is why I always thought the movie took place in Indiana). If she gets less than 60 answers correct, then the wedding is off. Suddenly, his charming and likeable brother Billy (Tim Daly) returns from college, for reasons unknown. Edward is joined by his groomsmen. “Shrevie” Schreiber (Daniel Stern) is a married man who’s recently come to terms with the fact that him and his wife Beth (Ellen Barkin) don’t have anything to talk about; coming to loggerheads when Beth fails to return one of his records to the correct place, as his precisely organized collection embodies his every passion. The town’s local heartthrob is “Boogie” Sheftell (Mickey Rourke), who’s about two years shy of becoming a criminal, currently working as a hairdresser who uses his good looks to hook up with the clientele. The group’s laughs are led by the endless wit of Modell (Paul Reiser), who while being an actor I completely associate with the 80s and early 90s, sinks into the role of a person who always has the best response to any situation. And on the existential end of the spectrum is the super smart “Fed” Fenwick Jr. (Kevin Bacon), who while coming from money deals with severe anxieties about his place in the world; causing him to drop out of college and push his mortality to the utter brink. We first meet them at the 24 hour diner where they meet up after work or nights of heavy drinking or just for the casual chat. In my town the diner was Sub City, which I never felt cool enough to go to until I finally had one of their sandwiches and realized why it was so popular. In the town over, it was a pancake house called Huck Finn Donuts. The conversations provide an early dive into pop culture as they do crossword puzzles and talk about music and their lives; talking to a few shadier and older characters that drop in throughout the night. It was while writing this that I realized that, beyond the marriage, there is no clear plot at work. It is simply following each of the five characters as they’re existing within this particular moment in life. Schreiber’s marriage is empty and unfulfilling and each day the problem snowballs. Boogie makes a bad $2,000 bet with a bookie at the diner, and spends the rest of the film trying to get the money. Modell is the nihilist friend who’s content enough with life and grossly sarcastic. Fed is struggling with finding meaning in the world; whether he should go back to school or not. Edward is preparing a test for his fiance to pass, while his brother is struggling to figure out what he wants to do in life. None of these storylines are all that engaging on their own. They’re economic and feel deeply personal, and while at times they go a bit further than they need to, it’s intercutting these stories with a centralized diner that makes them so brilliant. We come to the diner with one character and leave with another, never getting tired of any of them as their dynamic and relationships pull you in from the first scene. Each performer creates a wonderfully complex character which feels completely true. There are moments where the jokes breaks and the film shows its age; in which in order to gain some cash Boogie bets everyone that he can get a young woman named Diane (Kelle Kipp) to touch his junk. The two head to the movies, Boogie cuts out the bottom of a popcorn container and places himself inside, waiting for her to grab him. It’s a scene that’s almost shocking when you see it; especially when you realize it’s not for some playful fun or attempt to heat things up, but because he needs as much money as fast as possible. It’s a scene that I’m sure would ruin the movie for many nowadays, and yet going back to that earlier point, I think it’s best if you just pretend it didn’t happen, or close your eyes and ears and ignore it. Beyond this moment, Diner is one of the better early-20 struggle films out there; becoming a genre that would come to dominate pure independent cinema. BELOW: Chemistry that's off the charts Like what you read? Support the site on Patreon Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page  Yes, this is Alec Guinness Director: David Lean Writer: David Lean Cinematographer: Ernest Day Producer: John Brabourne and Richard Goodwin by Jon Cvack Reading about E.M. Forster’s book, there’s a fascinating debate between postcolonial and feminist scholars as to just how offensive the book is. Postcolonial scholars believe it portrays an Indian culture that’s acquiesced to Britain’s hegemony; in this case, following white characters as they galavant amongst the oppressed local Muslim and Hindu people, a few of which they befriend, though not without the disdain of the majority of local Brits. Feminists believe that the central female character Adela Quested and her potential mother-in-law reflect two women who’re willing to abandon the chains of patriarchy and journey into an alien world where they can assert their ideas. Others believe it’s a classic and important story, written by one of the 20th century’s greatest writers. While I haven’t read the book, I was left with a position somewhere in the center-critical position; seeing a film that for its time (written in 1924) was a wildly progressive piece, in which some of the problems as compared today, while justified, might slightly outweigh the story’s benefits. What pushed me over is that should the book be similar in the plot as the movie, I did take significant issue with Adela’s character; serving as a woman who was - in the movie - far too easily manipulated by men to defend a position she didn’t believe. David Lean has made some of the cinema’s most epic stories. The Bridge on the River Kwai (1957), Lawrence of Arabia (1962), and Dr. Zhivago (1965), which I feel silly for mentioning, but for anyone that’s brainfarting, it’s important to have an immediate grasp of these texts and their scope. Less well-known though brilliant movies include Brief Encounter (1945), Great Expectations (1946), and Summertime (1955; and highly underrated film overall); demonstrating his transition from mid-budget movies (albeit making small stories feel massive) and into the great and epic stories he’d later create. While writing this I have the one feature of his remaining, Ryan’s Daughter (1970), which he made between the five-film periods from 1957 thru 1984 period. A Passage to India concluded it, having been unavailable for years until a recent release on Blu Ray arrived a few months ago. I knew it’d fail to meet the perfection of Kwai, Lawrence, or Zhivago, but I figured what he missed in the story he might make up for in visuals; having a near-flawless filmography far behind him. Instead, the story proved underwhelming; feeling as though the flawed politics and criticism of the book contributed to its ineffective narrative. What worked was a bit too offensive, and all else fell short of what other filmmakers like Malle and Renoir have explored with their own portrayals of India and its rich culture. It felt like a man who, perhaps like Forstureer, failed to grasp why the story might have failed to work. Adela Quested (Judy Davis) and her potential mother-in-law Mrs. Moore (Peggy Ashcroft) arrive in India and immediately meet up with Mrs. Moore’s politically ambitious son Ronny Heaslop (Nigel Havers) in Chandrapore, which is experiencing a people's uprising for independence. When a local school teacher Richard Fielding (James Fox), Adela and Mrs. Moore meet the Indian doctor Aziz Ahmed (Victor Banerjee), a widower who agrees to show them around the area, introduced by local school superintendent and Aziz’s friend Richard Fielding (James Fox) who encourages both women to dive into Indian culture. Ronny disagrees with the friendship, as the current caste system treats Indians as second class citizens to the British ruling class. His mother Mrs. Moore disagrees with his ruthless pursuit of politics, in which his prejudices are rewarded, if not encouraged in order to preserve British hegemony. Mrs. Moore and Adela ignore his admonitions, shocking him when they go so far as to place their feet in a swimming pool of a local philosophy professor - who I’m shocked to find out is actually Alec Guinness; both for not at all recognizing the man, and more importantly, that somehow David Lean thought painting on a brown face in 1984 was a good idea; especially for a film that’s hoping to explore racism. It’s all the worse in a scene taking place minutes after when we go to a party where the local Indians are more or less segregated from the white British people; standing in the grass while the Brits sit at their table, resting on elevated platforms. It’s not even as though David Lean failed to capture the bigotry - or why having Guinness paint his face brown to play a Hindu - as during one scene, while passing a group of Indian women, a character mentions that they don’t understand English; only for a couple of the locals to mention the three others languages they speak in addition to Hindi. Later Aziz takes Mrs. Moore and Adela on a tour of the Marabar Caves - a fictional destination (with its own Wikipedia page), which are known for their haunting ability to echo the speaker's words. In a series of cryptic shots, cutting between basecamp, a tour guide-led group, Aziz and Adela take off on their own. Ronny later arrives at the scene though Adela becomes separated and spooked; especially upon seeing Aziz at the cave entrance, looking in. Lean cuts to some birds flying and then Adela runs down a hill, falls into some cacti and soon accusations Aziz of raping her The problem is that when you read about what happened in the cave from the book, you realize that Lean completely failed to capture the details or the mystery. Ultimately, we never know what happened in the book in which Ronny arrives earlier and confesses his love for Adela who fails to have similar feelings. She then heads off and meets up with Aziz, filled with lust and making a pass which he rejects; still agonizing over the death of his wife. She then races out and falls into the prickly plants; definitely assaulted, but what happens remains a mystery. Aziz and Ronny blame the tour guide, but nothing is ever proved. The caves serve as a fascinating metaphor for the story, both reflecting the boiling point that would lead to the Indian Nationalism that would overthrow the country, while the infamous echoes reflect the self-reflection of both Mrs. Moore and Adela who grasp India injustices. The cave remains the film’s strongest scene, but watching Ryan’s Daughter which better abides by Lean’s usual style, creating more memorable images in its first forty minutes than in all of A Passage to India; almost feeling as though it failed to grasp even the most novice concepts that E.M. Forster explored within my cursory look. Lean seemed to take a bit too much of a side in his version, particularly in how he shot Aziz standing at the doorway looking in toward Adela - moments before she came running out; removing the ambiguity. So begins the meat of the film as Aziz is allegedly innocent and wrongfully accused. All of Britain gets behind him, and we see another terrifying example of the popular tribal justice that carries on almost every other week of the month. The white people all assume that Aziz is guilty while the Indians protest against another use of colonialists subverting their justice system. The trial is a bit of a farce. The judge fails to maintain order while Aziz’s lawyers become overwhelmed with emotion, storming out in protest of the bias. Ronny disowns his fellow country club friends and the Indian people begin demonstrating. After reading my first couple books on American Reconstruction, I’m realizing that the bias in these types of mainstream trials have existed as long as any marginalized group has fought for justice. The cases serve not just for the immediate guilt or innocence of any one person, but as a reflection of the society at large. Having just finished The Run for His Life, the OJ Simpson trial might have been one of the most popular examples of this bias. It’s tough to differentiate whether it was Lean or Forster who dropped the ball in this section. Adela is relegated to a helpless persona; manipulated by the men in power in order to promote their agendas. In the end, it’s not the Indian lawyers who win the case, but Adela finally fessing up to the truth she’s been holding in. I suppose it reflects an issue existing within any culture; in which too few people speak up for the injustices they witness, no matter how wrong they are. In the end, Aziz is acquitted, bitter against his new white friends and demanding monetary damages from Adela. Ronny leaves, though years later, he returns. Aziz still harbors resentment, until finally forgiving Ronny. We never know get to see what happened to Adela, leaving the end feeling empty; as though it could have continued on but didn’t. Again just a quick glance at the book’s summary, we see that Aziz was suspicious that Ronny was leaving to go marry Adela - the girl that betrayed him - vowing to never befriend another white person again. While Ronny returns and attempts to reunite with his old friend, Aziz resists, declaring that they cannot be friends until India is free and independent; a particularly harsh conclusion against what sounds more nuanced in the book. This would be the last feature David Lean would make until his death seven years later. At only 71 years old at the time and with a tremendous body of work behind him, I’m not sure what went wrong. Whether studios interfered or Lean finally met his match with source material. Reading about the book, I was left wanting an updated version; seeing it as an important story for our current times. The director would have to look no further than Lean’s other work for inspiration. BELOW: Some old school white privilege (though mostly because there's slim pickings on YouTube) Like what you read? Support the site on Patreon Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page |
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