 As usual with Corman films - the synopsis is far more enticing than the experience Director: Roger Corman Writer: Charles Beaumont and R. Wright Campbell; based on The Masque of the Red Death and "Hop-Frog" by Edgar Allan Poe Producer: Roger Corman and George Willoughby Cinematography: Nicolas Roeg by Jon Cvack The Birds (1963) and a few other films aside, I’m not sure what it is about color horror films from the early to mid-60s that makes them look so boring. Nearly every single time I return to these Vincent Price B-horror films I’m disappointed, hoping for so much more, often with premises that could have made for great material, and yet always possess that flat, bland lighting while it’s black and white peers pushed its style to the limits of creating the atmosphere necessary for any good horror film. I’m fairly certain that color film was more expensive and required more light to shoot in, and with such fast production schedules, there simply wasn’t enough time to light the scenes well. The Masque of the Red Death starts out strong, shot out in the fields surrounding a castle that sits far in the matted distance, with the trees stripped of leaves and a low hanging fog all around. An old woman meets a hooded figure dressed in red from head to toe who gives a woman a white rose which then drips with blood. We then meet Prince Prospero (Vincent Price) who arrives at a village with his guards, discovering the old woman actually has the plague and orderingg the village burned to the ground to avoid its spread, sparing the one attractive girl Francesca (Jane Asher) who he brings back to the castle. There he entertains his cronies with lavish parties and expensive meals, with all the sex and alcohol they could ask for, all while trying to seduce Francesca who later learns Prospero and his friends are Satanists and so begins a strange series of events that I’ll leave you to read the extensive Wikipedia synopsis to discover all of the bizarre story details. Essentially, the Satanists are participating in endless amounts of debauchery while thousands die outside the castle doors, all while this Red Hooded figure is getting closer, before finally getting inside the castle, approaching Prospero, declaring, “Each man creates his own God for himself - His own Heaven, his own Hell”, removing his mask and - SPOILER - revealing himself to be Prospero himself; that is, Prospero is in his own hell, having sold his soul to Satan for a brief life of hedonism that cycles on repeat. The synopsis reads like an incredible story and makes Edgar Allan Poe’s source material that much more clear. Unfortunately, the film someway/somehow buries these exciting ideas. It’s not so much that I didn’t follow them as that I was so bored with how the story looked that I couldn’t pay attention or connect the pieces all that well. Not knowing it was an Poe short story, I thought it involved a shitty Satanist Vincent Prince who eventually faces his sword, with one really cool and terrifying scene of a furry man in a gorilla suit burning alive. The issue is the complete lack of feeling in each and every scene, as though I was watching each person acting rather than experiencing what they feel; either through performance or the design. Reading a more concise breakdown, I see a story about a man driven by greed and lust while thousands of his sick and poor countrymen die outside. Beyond his lust for Francesca, the film never seems to explore what drives Prospero, or the type of pleasure he receives from living out his every desire. BELOW: A far better - and shorter - adaptation 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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 If only Burton kept rolling with a non-CGI style Director: Tim Burton Writer: John August; story by Tim Burton; based on Frankenweenie by Tim Burton and Lenny Ripps Cinematographer: Peter Sorg Producer: Tim Burton and Allison Abbate by Jon Cvack There are three facts that make Frankenweenie a fascinating film. First being that the film’s based on one of Tim Burton’s earliest shorts (linked below) which is a black and white film about a boy and his dog who gets hit by a car. The boy reanimates the dog and so follows a story largely inspired by the first two Frankenstein movies. The second bit is that this entire film is in black and white to begin with; a super bold move from Disney which must have cost this studios tens of millions of dollars in revenue per the strange disdain people have for monochromatic films. The third is that the entire film was created entirely with puppets - a description that completely fails to capture what these designers achieved. I advise watching the supplement on the disc before seeing the film (it contains zero spoilers). The puppets required such detailed mechanics that production eventually had to call in Swiss watchmakers to design tiny nuts and bolts. Even so, the scale of the set was one of the largest ever created, with the houses and school standing nearly as tall as a person. Each puppet had a near endless array of facial pieces, providing any expression imaginable, down to a myriad of eyebrows to make an eyeball blink. We open up on tweenager and filmmaker Victor Frankenstein (Charlie Tahan) who lives with his parents Edward (Martin Short) and Susan (Catherine O'Hara) and whose best friend is a dog named Sparky. Victor is an outcast with few friends that he avoids hanging out, uninterested in the sports pushed by his father and instead obsessed with making tiny short films. At school, his Vincent Price-inspired teacher Mr. Rzykruski's (Martin Landau) demonstrates the way electricity could be used to reanimate the dead, later announcing a science fair and subsequently creating a fierce competition amongst Victor and his friends. The contest even attracts the attention of the Igor of the film, named Edgar (Atticus Shaffer). While playing in a baseball game he couldn’t care any less about, Victor hits a homer which causes Sparky to run out and get the ball, getting hit by a car. Victor decides to use Mr. Rzykruski’s lesson to reanimate his dog on a rainy night, with a laboratory comprised of items found all around the house, providing one of the most extraordinary scenes from the film- as with any Frankenstein movie - made all the more impressive when considering the amount of time it would have taken to pull it off. Edgar then learns of Victor’s accomplishment, blackmailing him to teach the method. However, knowing that there was no way that Sparky would wreak the havoc of the original Frankenstein, the story then turns to Edgar telling their science fair competitors Bob (Robert Capron) and Toshiaki (James Hiroyuki Liao) about the method, who then reanimate a range of dead lab creatures, including a rat, bat, mummified hamster, and sea monkeys; thus shifting the structurer from Frankenstein to a Universal Horror throwback, most comparable to House of Frankenstein (1944; which I watched a couple weeks later). So begins a thrilling final act as the Victor and Sparky are left to battle a fascinating series of terrifying Burton-esque monsters. The Bluray makes the craftsmanship pop off the screen, with the story just creepy and interesting enough to make you forget that you were watching what must have taken tens of thousands of hours to complete. If this movie was in color I think it might have taken a solid position in the pantheon of popular horror films; especially if it honored the color scheme and style of Edward Scissorhands (1990). While I can defend the black and white for how well it captures the essence of the original series, I assume mass audiences aren’t racing to put this film at the top of their lists when there’re so many other comparable films in color. To think that Burton was able to pull it off - and through Disney, nonetheless - goes to show his power; highlighting how incredible it once was that a director like Burton had enough leverage to make this type of film. BELOW: Burton's original short Like what you read? Support the site on Patreon Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page  Started out as a hero, soon became a sociopath Director: Alex Gibney Writer: Alex Gibney Cinematographer: Maryse Alberti Producer: Alex Gibney, Marc Shmuger, and Alexis Bloom by Jon Cvack It was interesting to watch this documentary as the Trump Saga unravels and we further discover Wikileak’s role in hacking both the DNC and John Podesta’s emails. For a long while Julian Assange was a darling of the left and libertarian crowds, standing up to Big Business and Big Government, either individually, or the way they work together. In this case, Alex Gibney explores the release of Bradley Manning’s intel dump in which we learned of the gross abuses - arguably war crimes - by the American government throughout the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan; primarily the mass misrepresentation of civilian casualties and a disturbing video where a drone team takes out a group of terrorist suspects, celebrating their deaths which we later learn were civilians, with one man and his daughter killed who were simply trying to help the victims who were butchered without due process. Alex Gibney is one of the best documentarians working today, earning a berth next to any of the cinema’s all time greats - Agnes Varda, Werner Herzog, and Errol Morris - and like any great documentarian, is able to explore a broad spectrum, ranging from politics to music history to the Stephen Bartman/Chicago Cubs incident with Catching Hell (2011). We Steal Secrets follows the rise and close to the fall of Julian Assange. Wikileaks was founded with a group of rebellious hackers in 2008, serving as a destination for whistleblowers to dump their content anonymously. After Icelandic financial corruption and Swiss tax evasion joined the Manning dump, Julian Assange went into exile, wanted by numerous governments, eventually seeking asylum in Russia.Achieving international rock star-level recognition, he of course attracted some women, allegedly abusing their interest by demanding unprotected sex, with some saying it was based on his narcissistic and disturbing desire to spread his seed in as many countries as possible. Soon women come forward, accusing Assange of numerous forms of sexual assault, including rape. While Wikileaks initially lambasted the accusations as a character assassination by world governments, in the #MeToo movement it seems important to give the accusers the benefit of the doubt (my general rule of thumb is while due process should always be honored, when more than one woman who’re in no way connected come forward with similar accusations it makes their accusations all the more credible). In the end, a mixture of the scandal and Assange’s arrogance leads many of Wikileak’s original team to quit the organization. In the end, Assange is stuck in Russia with few friends, leaving you to wonder if perhaps his limited alternatives might have played a role in dumping the DNC and Podesta emails. To speculate, it seems possible that what began as a noble cause was derailed when hubris entered the picture. Of course, parallel to much of this story is the story of Chelsea (formerly Bradley) Manning and the path which led to her stealing the top secret information. Prior to Manning professing her gender fluidity, Manning expresses a profound sense of alienation to one of Wikileak’s co-founders who would eventually rat her out. What we see is typical of any teenage angst, in which an extraordinary mind combined with the military’s rigidity and lax computer security all adds to Manning carrying out the rebellious act. In the end, Obama would pardon her 35 year sentence, and - as of writing this - she’s running for Senate in Maryland (and failing to win). It’s rare to see a documentary in which its content progresses and evolves long after its release, in which the ideas explored lead to consequences years later. I’m not sure it could use a sequel, but as a historical document - capturing a moment that would lead to extraordinary events later on - this one of the most prescient documentaries I’ve ever seen. BELOW: Great interview with Alex Gibney Like what you read? Support the site on Patreon Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page  One day I'll learn where they found this guy Director: Ruben Östlund Writer: Ruben Östlund Cinematographer: Fredrik Wenzel Producer: Erik Hemmendorff and Philippe Bober by Jon Cvack I nearly missed The Square in theater, only brought back to a local chain when the Oscars noms were announced and it returned for a week prior to the big show. I had loved Force Majeure (2014), best described by my buddy as Michael Haneke 2.0. The best art is that which is difficult to put into words and it was both Force Majeure and The Square that I struggle with the exact issue; from a macro perspective, both films seem so easy to categorize. One’s about an avalanche at a ski resort that traps everyone inside and a family struggles with the situation. The Square takes place at a contemporary art museum, and while I was nervous it’d offer a simple satire of the destination, instead discovered a profound insight into the nature of art while keeping each character grounded in reality rather than serving as caricatures. The Square involves an art curator at the contemporary X-Royal art museum named Christian (Claes Bang) who wakes up hungover in his office, about to be interviewed for a new exhibition by the American journalist Anne (Elisabeth Moss). After, Christian is walking the city streets when a frantic woman sprints up to him and a neighboring stranger, begging for help; in which a crazed boyfriend then comes running up to the men screaming, looking like he’s about to attack when he slows down and the girl thanks them and moments later Christian realizes that his wallet, phone, and watch have all been taken. The frantic act was a con. Thanks to “Where’s my iPhone?’, Christian is able to track the thief, discovering they live in one of the local projects. Christian recruits a low-level assistant Michael (Christopher Læssø) to help him, who suggests that Christian print out a bunch of letters explaining how badly he needs the phone, leaving the address to mail the package, and insert the fliers into all the mail slots at each apartment of the building. So carries out one of the movie’s most hilarious scenes as the pair head to the building in Christian’s fully loaded Tesla, listening to Justice on the way, where Christian hopes for his assistant (a black man) to head inside as Christian (a white man) just doesn’t fit in with the area. The assistant refuses and immediately the buddy-buddy ruse shifts into an awkward castigation from Christian who believes his authoritative position should exempt him from having to go inside. The plan works and the next day, a package is shipped to a nearby 7/11, including Christian’s phone and wallet. However, a young adolescent boy accosts Christian, saying his parents believe he is the thief, demanding Christian apologize to his family under threat of causing “chaos” to Christian’s life. Christian ignores the warning, and soon the boy begins stalking him. Amidst all this Christian is trying to manage the opening of a new exhibition, called The Square and represented by a 5x5 foot or so square shaped exhibit displayed both inside and outside the building with the slogan, “The Square is a sanctuary of trust and caring. Within it we all share equal rights and obligations.” This is in addition to sleeping with Anne, who lives with a Chimpanzee, and might have kept a condom with Christian’s semen, later saying she was hoping for something more from their relationship and hope to get herself pregnant. When writing this out, each individual fragment might sound far from original; an awkward sexual encounter between a man and woman, both wanting different things; a man trying to deal with the absurdities of his professional environment; or the buddy scene where two friends get involved with a situation that spirals out of control. However, it’s Ruben Östlund’s ability to add an extraordinary amount of depth to each of these more straightforward moments that allow the content to fully shine. Rather than having an awkward post-coital moment, Östlund adds a chimpanzee to the scene, never having any of the characters address it; rather than allowing the buddy scene operate at such a high velocity of feel-good fun and adrenaline, he has Christian reveal his true - and potentially bigoted - identity; rather than having Anne and Christian have an awkward conversation expressing what they each hoped to get from the relationship, there’s a fascinating art exhibit behind them which takes about half of the conversation to fully understand (there’re chairs stacked at about twenty-five feet in the air, swaying, and every so often we hear them crash to the floor), allowing the conversation to become all the more absurd. Each scene has a richness of depth that only numerous repeated viewings could possibly lead to discovering all of the details. However, this is all intercut with one of the film’s best subplots in having a couple of young Gen-Z/borderline millennial digital media consultants devise a marketing plan for the new exhibit. They’re aware of how competitive the endeavor actually is, knowing that the most effective piece of marketing is for them to create a viral piece of content. However, in the middle of pitching a video idea about a young blonde child standing outside the museum who \ gets blown up by a terrorist, Christian enters into the office frantic about his phone, agreeing to the absurd idea, which soon causes an international firestorm when the macabre video showing a child getting killed does, in fact, go viral across YouTube, causing the museum to have to take immediate action; leading to a fascinating question about the role of censorship in art. In the end, you’re left wondering what The Square means - if anything. In preparation, Östlund had actually built a low budget version of the same exhibit. The slogan is so simple and ambiguous, in which I’m unsure whether it translates poorly, or that the gross simplicity is the exact point. In one exhibit - created both in pre-pro and in the movie - a patron is meant to select between two options: trusting people and not trusting people, with the former leading them to a room where they’re to leave their phones on the ground while they explore the rest of the exhibit. In the best scene of the film (arguably the best scene of the year) a man who’s able to embody the volatile and violent temperament of an ape performs during a fundraiser with some of Stockholm’s wealthiest, in which the performer goes to the extreme, transcending any form of humanity and embodying the animal’s aggressive spirit; going so far as to attack others. In the end, we learn that although the place is calling The Square a place of “trust and caring” and allowing everyone to share “equal rights and obligations” it too has its limits which contradict that premise. What happens when an artist wants to create material that’ll offend people to the point of violence? What happens if a performer so embodies his role that he’s willing to scare or even hurt others? What is the line between respectable art and trash? The easy answer is that art should avoid harming others, but then you wonder about art such as Triumph of the Will and its long term propagandizing of Nazis and Uncle Tom’s Cabin and what it did to shed light on slavery, and the vast amount of violence which resulted from both; whether justifiable or horrendous. This isn’t to make a value judgment on these pieces so much as demonstrate that even seemingly innocuous pieces can produce harmful results. As frightening as the ape-man is, it also seems like negligence in failing to understand the extent of the act, and the same goes for the video that Christian greenlit without knowing the idea’s full extent. Then again, the phrase seems facile and empty; no different than the piles of shredded paper exhibit that the patrons avoid, failing to understand the point. With such an ambiguous phrase, it becomes essentially meaningless. Then again, maybe it’s only within The Square where such an idealistic philosophy could even exist. Such subtle ambiguity is the making of any great art and The Square is hands down one of the most fascinating films of the year. BELOW: 2017's best scene Like what you read? Support the site on Patreon Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page  Not one of the best movies, but one of Gena Rowlands' greatest roles Director: John Cassavetes Writer: John Cassavetes Cinematographer: Alan Ruban Producer: Al Ruban by Jon Cvack Somebody once said that a person should wait on reading Nietzsche until later in life, as a young mind simply couldn’t understand the practical aspects of his philosophy and cultural criticism without having lived for a while. I’d say the same thing about John Cassavetes; a filmmaker whose work I had long known about, but put off visiting until about five years ago, starting with Shadows (1959) and working my way through his six famous films - Husbands (1970), A Woman Under the Influence (1974), Faces (1968), Killing of a Chinese Bookie (1976) and rounding out his oeuvre with this film.* Opening Night is about an upcoming stage play, featuring many of Cassavetes’ regular players - Gena Rowlands as the over the hill actress and alcoholic Myrtle Gordon; Ben Gazzara as the play’s producer; and John Cassavetes as the male lead, Maurice Aarons, opposite Gordon. It even features a cameo from Peter Falk in the end. At nearly two and a half hours, the film follows the disintegration of Myrtle’s mental stability as she struggles with growing old while trying to maintain the fierceness and craft which defined her earlier career; kicked off when a crazed fan chases Myrtle out of the theater, gets hit by a car and dies. For two and a half hours we watch as Myrtle spirals out of control, attempting to convince the playwright Sarah Goode (Joan Blondell) that she’s in full control, even while Myrtle’s failing to complete the simplest of tasks. She forgets lines, she can’t control her drinking which is perpetuated by the producer and her co-star who realize getting sauced is all that can satiate the demons brewing beneath the surface. Myrtle is fully aware that her days are numbered; as between her inability to control her drinking - or even admit the problem - and its subsequent toll on her mind and body, her professional opportunities are rapidly drying up. It's a self-fulfilling prophecy; she drinks because she can no longer perform, but she can’t perform because she drinks. Cassavetes would die from cirrhosis of the liver only twelve years after the film’s release; and given that most of his movies involve binge drinking characters, in no way exploring the activity as a problem so much as a debaucherous pass time, the story is eerie. Opening Night continues the theme, except while his other films display the humor associated with late-night binge sessions with friends, Opening Night shows the severe consequences. As Roger Ebert (and fellow alcoholic) says in his review, while alcoholics can talk about how great things used to be, they eventually must deal with the harsh reality of a sober now. Unfortunately, Myrtle never gets to that epiphany. In the concluding scene, as Myrtle arrives at the opening performance hardly able to stand or speak, she passes a stagehand who offers the film’s best line, “I've seen a lot of drunks in my day, but I never seen anyone as drunk as you and still be able to walk. You're fantastic.” And yet it’s the fact it’s not all that funny that emphasizes Ebert’s point. Myrtle makes it to the stage, abandons the script and proceeds to improvise alongside Cassavetes as the audience laughs. In the end, everyone smiles and hugs, and yet - like Ebert - I was left wondering what the cause of celebration was all about. It’s clear that Myrtle has struck rock bottom, and if she doesn’t get some help soon, she will likely die soon enough. I was left thinking of the HBO Documentary Risky Drinking (2015) about severe alcoholics, in which one man was so addicted that he could not physically function without getting blotto on alcohol; having difficulty even walking down the stairs, eventually going to a hospital to get himself sobered up. The withdrawal then kicked in, causing crazed and violent episodes of vomiting and pain that rivaled Trainspotting (1996), and still the man couldn’t kick the habit. We never knew what happened beyond the relapse, but I think it’s safe to assume the man too had a premature death. Myrtle seems destined for a similar destiny, and yet Cassavetes never comments on this doomed fate. The film seems more about a woman struggling to deal with an ailing career and old age than with a severe alcohol problem. BELOW: Alcohol's a hell of a drug Like what you read? Support the site on Patreon Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page  A costume that shouldn't work, but some how does Directors: David Lowery Writers: David Lowery Cinematographer: Andrew Droz Palermo Producer: Toby Halbrooks, James M. Johnston, and Adam Donaghey by Jon Cvack I checked out David Lowery’s short film “Pioneer” before watching this film, where after making a micro budget feature, Lowery made the short, becoming an Official Selection in Sundance and winning the Grand Jury prize at SXSW. Like any great short, what’s most impressive is how simple of an idea it is, requiring only two characters - an older white man who’s putting a younger black child to sleep. It’s an eerie and beautiful film, as the old man tells a strange and fantastical story about how he met the child’s mom, going so far back as the American Civil War. The film would allow Lowery to go on to make his second feature Ain’t Them Bodies Saints (2013). After spending two years on the Pete’s Dragon remake (2016), his wife and him got into an argument about moving back to Texas, which combined with an article he read about a catastrophic earthquake and a desire for a more intimate story, eventually led him to imagine a film taking place in a single house, where after a husband dies in an accident, his ghost is forced to remain in the house for all eternity, initially watching his wife until she then moves away and another family comes in; later with the house being destroyed as the big city expands. Allegedly the film cost $100,000. For anyone that’s been in a relationship for awhile, this film hits hard; with Lowery capturing all of the tiny bits and quarks that comprise any couple who’re deeply in love. We see the cuddles and inside jokes, the disagreements and the passions, though mostly the simple satisfaction of living with someone you love, in which their company alone is enough to keep you content. I found myself considering the details of my own life and my fiancé, putting myself in the man’s position, being forced to watch as the person you love suffers, all while knowing that soon the suffering will ease and she might explore new partners, either intimately or lustfully, all while trying to move on, knowing that - as with anything - only time is what will heal; all while accepting that time is all the ghost has. Unfortunately, this first half was so strong - pulling harder at my heart stringers than anything I’ve seen in awhile - that when the woman finally moves out and a new family moves in, the emotions I had for the while following initial couple never returned. Will Oldham from the short film “Pioneer” makes a return, going on a drunken rant that most of us have had on our college days in which, due to the grand design of the universe, you eventually realize that one day, millions of years from now, the Earth will end and all of anything humans have ever created won’t matter. It’s a fun monologue, though I was still left wanting to see what happened to the girl. The world continues to move on, with the house getting knocked down and a skyscraper taking its place before the sun finally explodes and everything dies and the ghost is forced to go back in time to a moment before humans, still occupying the same plot of land, seeing a band of old western travelers slaughtered by Natives, until he returns to when him and the girl live in the house, watching their relationship's rise and fall yet again and its devastating conclusion, soon bringing back another ghost. Earlier in the film, the woman inserts a note into a crack in the door frame. The ghost is unable to grab it being invisible and all. The woman places it in again in the second universe and finally he gets to see it, then disappearing and headed to heaven, or so I assume. Nietzsche talks about the eternal state of recurrence, in which if the universe is infinite in age, then all possibilities stand to happen again. I’m not sure how long it’d take for our Sun and galaxy to get redesigned, and while I don’t think getting into a psychedelic montage would help much, it does leave you wondering. I went into my gal’s room after this was done and gave her an extra kiss, hug, and love you. None of us know when we’re going to go; a probability that becomes an increasingly likely chance as we age. It leaves you wondering what’s most important. I’d agree with Lowery - at the end of the day, it’s about occupying your time with things and people you love. Just wish he focused more on that than post-philosophy 101 late night weed talk. BELOW: Every humanity's major will meet someone like this in college 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 excited I've been for an actor on a long while Director: Yorgos Lanthimos Writer: Yorgos Lanthimos and Efthymis Filippou Cinematographer: Thimios Bakatakis Producer: Ed Guiney and Yorgos Lanthimos by Jon Cvack The Greek myth Iphigenia in Aulis takes place while the United Greek armies are attacking Troy in order to get Helen back. Agamemnon is en route to attack with his crew, but with no wind at their back, they’re stuck in the middle of the ocean. The Gods tell Agamemnon that he could resolve the problem if he sacrifices his daughter Iphigenia. Agamemnon instructs his wife Clytemnestra to send their daughter to the battle front. She soon arrives with both her brother and her fiance Achilles. Soon the wife and Achilles discover the plot, attempt to avoid Iphigenia’s capture until Agamemnon’s army take them under capture to avoid skirting the plan. Nevertheless, Iphigenia agrees to the act, figuring the sacrifice a great honor to save the world. Agamemnon carries out the act, killing his daughter. In another story, Agamemnon kills a sacred deer. I’m not exactly sure how this translate to Yorgos Lanthimos's The Killing of a Sacred Deer, other than including a powerful and successful man who ends up killing one of his children to save the rest of his family. In the film, Agamemnon’s character is Dr. Steven Murphy (Colin Farrell) who’s a heart surgeon. Recently, during an operation gone wrong when Murphy was drunk, he killed the father of a teenage boy Martin (Barry Keoghan; who might be one of the most exciting young actors I’ve seen in awhile). Murphy then befriends Martin lavishing him with gifts, such as an expensive watch and visiting the boy’s widow mother ( Alicia Silverstone; in the first thing I think I’ve seen from her since Clueless (1995)) who hopes to seduce the doctor. Back at home, Murphy lives a seemingly perfect life. Married to the gorgeous and smart Anna ( Nicole Kidman) along with their two children Kim ( Raffey Cassidy) and Bob (Sunny Suljic). Murphy invites Martin over for dinner where Kim takes a strong liking to Martin and the two begin dating. Soon Murphy’s son says he can’t use his legs, paralyzed from the waist down. Murphy takes him to the hospital, where after a series of tests, they fail to discover or cure the problem. Martin fesses up to being responsible, saying that on account of Murphy killing his father, Murphy's entire family will experience the same disease. Soon Murphy’s daughter succumbs to the symptoms and Bob’s evolves, curbing his appetite and slowly he begins starving to death. Murphy soon kidnaps Martin, taking him back to their house and tying him up to the chair in his basement, torturing him into releasing the curse. Martin refuses and so Murphy keeps him there. Things with Anna and Murphy begin to disintegrate, as Anna exchanges sexual favors with Murphy’s colleague in order to learn whether Murphy was drunk while operating on Martin’s father. She soon decides that it’s best they slaughter one of the children, as they could always have another one. In the end, Murphy ties all three members of his family, grabs a shotgun, and spins around in a human roulette game, firing when he stops and killing his son. It’s easy to see the loose parallels behind the classic story and this one; though I don’t know exactly how the two compare. I’ve yet to see any of director Yorgus Lanthimos’ other work (I saw and wrote this before seeing The Favorite (2018)), though I have a feeling that he’s the type of filmmaker where you know you’re watching his work. Each character in The Killing of a Sacred Deer delivers their lines completely deadpan, failing to show a single bit of emotion or performance and creating a deeply unnerving vibe throughout the story. Barry Keoghan plays a fantastic villain, feeling as though he’s the only native to Lantimo’s grim and dry world; as though Murphy and his family are in purgatory, rather than real life. How this all translates is where the challenge lies. While wealthy and successful, Murphy and Anna don’t seem to have any specific joy in life. Even while making love, Anna lies motionless on a bed, pretending to be on anaesthetic as Murphy has sex with her. In such a world, Murphy’s alienation causes him to drink; risking his perfect upper class existence and family in order to cope with a complete lack of meaning. In the end, he’s willing to kill his family because it’s the easiest solution, and the only thing which could return the sense of normalcy to his life, however unfulfilling that normalcy is. The Killing of a Sacred Deer is a cynical and disturbing film, evolving into the fading trend of home invasion films that extend across the late 00s and early 10s with stories like The Strangers (2008), The Purge (2013), and most similarly, Funny Games (2007) ; though in regards to the latter, some way, some how this feels far darker and hopeless. BELOW: I've seen one movie from the Yorgos at the time of this writing, but I bet I'd know any of his other films by performance alone Like what you read? Support the site on Patreon Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page  Catholic Fashion Show Director: Federico Fellini Writer: Federico Fellini and Bernardino Zapponi Cinematographer: Giuseppe Rotunno Producer: Turi Vasile by Jon Cvack As often mentioned, I’m not the biggest fan of surrealist or experimental cinema, as it often functions under a subjectivity that excuses any points of confusion or misunderstanding, either as the fault of the viewer or created by design; in which nothing necessarily has to make universal sense, and therefore anything’s permissible. Recently checking out The Holy Mountain (1973) and I was surprised to see that - counter to El Topo (1970) which fell victim to the surrealist fallacy - it always kept its abstract images within the realm of comprehension; providing at least some parameters and general themes. I had known Roma took on a similar structure, focused specifically on Rome and its people. Watching two BTS interviews on the Criterion BluRay, I was comforted in being far from the only one who was confused by what the film was exactly about; as even his closest collaborators struggled to make sense of it. Reading David Forgacs’ Criterion essay, he puts better words to the feelings you get - of an old Rome competing with a new one; a semi autobiographical narrative about a Fellini-like character who arrives in the city for the first time, absorbing all of the cultures and traditions, good and bad. There is no coherent narrative to the story, but rather a set of somewhat connected chapters, mostly in their being about a specific element of Rome. Countless scenes specifically come to mind: the brothels examining both the lower class destinations for furloughed soldiers and men from modest means to the more extravagant destinations, where the women are gorgeous and competing for the highest dollar. Another is your classic Fellini traffic jam injected with steroids as we see a film crew filming an extraordinarily complex and chaotic scene. The third is one as the most memorable moments, spending ten to fifteen minutes on the lower class streets, moving from family to family as they eat dinner and arguments abound. The final being a team of archaeologists heading down beneath the city, discovering rare frescoes soon destroyed by the fresh and salty air pouring into the room. A fifth at a vaudeville show where the audience scolds each performer, forcing them to abandon their act and leaving the stage. The final scene features an extravagant Catholic fashion show. The film plays as such a deep and profound reflection on life, functioning more as a series of memories and allegories that there’s no use in trying to think of what it all means when pieced together. The film is as much an autobiography on Fellini being a fresh Rome transplant as a fully realized filmmaker, struggling to capture the city he loves. Each scene is photographed with absolute beauty, where regardless of criticism, the film so beautiful it excuses any confusion. Like all great filmmakers, Fellini has a love affair with his city. What John Ford did with the West, Paul Thomas Anderson with Los Angeles, or Scorsese or Woody Allen with New York, Fellini makes the city a character, showing the good, the bad, and the ugly. Like any great film about a city, I left feeling a personal relationship to it. In the end I was left thinking, in my own superficial and ignorant way, how we hadn’t yet seen the Coliseum; the one specific landmark from the film. Then the closing images came in, with the biker gang roaring through the streets, their motors bouncing off the building, drowning out all else; where if they had entered any other scene we would have lost all the wonderful sound of the streets and people. It seemed to embody superficiality. As with any great city, soon the romance displaces all of the common people which made it great to begin with; now reserved for the wealthy and tourists who do nothing more than race by. BELOW: Eating in the streets of Rome Like what you read? Support the site on Patreon Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page  Very excited to see more from Aaron-Taylor Johnson Director: Tom Ford Writer: Tom Ford; based on Austin and Susan by Austin Right Cinematographer: Seamus McGarvey Producer: Tom Ford and Robert Salerno by Jon Cvack I had loved A Single Man with Colin Firth’s devastating performance as a college professor who lost his lover in a car accident, now planning to commit suicide. To discover that Tom Ford was a fashion icon was all the more impressive, as aside from the talent is a distinct visual voice. I had missed Nocturnal Animals during the awards season last year, putting off watching it as from the few bits and pieces I saw, it focused at least partially on the Los Angeles art scene, which I find often unbearable to watch in how serious it’s often portrayed. While I knew the film cut back to a novel, I didn’t anticipate that it’d literally be half of the film. The story involves middle aged LA art gallery owner Susan Morrow (Amy Adams) who has just opened her latest show, which includes morbidly obese women dressed up as Uncle Sam-inspired cheerleaders dancing in the full nude. Susan has grown distant of hiding from her current husband, businessman Hutton Morrow (Armie Hammer ) who’s doing a hiding his dalliances with younger women. After the show, Hutton receives a manuscript called “Nocturnal Animals” from her ex-husband who was once an aspiring novelist. She begins to read the book, cutting to Edward Sheffield (Jake Gyllenhaal) as a 30-something man who’s moving to West Texas with his wife and daughter, when in the middle of nowhere, they’re harassed by a trio of drivers, forced off the road, where the leader Ray Marcus (Aaron Taylor-Johnson; as the film’s greatest character) eventually kidnaps both the wife and daughter. Edward is taken by the other two in a different car, dropped off in the middle of nowhere where he wakes and finds the police, led by Detective Bobby Andes (Michael Shannon); soon discovering his wife and daughter raped and murdered. The film then cuts in between the two narratives, as Susan reflects on her past relationship with Edward. The two had just begun graduate school. Susan had ambitions of escaping her mother’s conservative and upper class expectations of a mate, falling in love and getting engaged to Edward before finally breaking it off as it was clear his ambitions to live the impecunious life of a struggling writer would fail to provide Susan what she needed; especially after she met the wealthy and well connected Hutton Morrow. Returning to the novel, Detective Andes eventually tracks down the gang responsible, arresting Ray Marcus on insufficient evidence which soons forces him to release the guy. We then learn that Detective Andes has terminal cancer, convincing Edward to go rogue and take the law into their own hands, as with his own experience, Andes has no sympathy for murder/rapists; enraged by how often the cases are dismissed. They grab Ray Marcus and one of his cronies from the bar and take them back to Andes’ house where they shoot one of the friends, and Marcus falls victim to A coughing paroxysm, allowing Ray Marcus to escape. Edward eventually tracks him down, though before killing Ray, gets hit in the head with a crowbar, quickly dying from a brain hemorrhage. Susan was told by Edward that they’d meet after finishing the book. She gets dressed up and heads to the restaurant, waiting for hours for Edward who never shows. IN Jonathan Franzen’s essay collection Father Away, the author mentions the struggle he had with incorporating biography into his narratives; eventually leaning into the idea, knowing it was the only way to capture the voice required. In one recent interview I read about an author’s experience in the prestigious Iowa MFA program, he discussed how his instructor at the Iowa Workshop was able to highlight the portions where were biographical versus those which were fiction; the point being that a great author can melt these worlds with ease. In Nocturnal Animals, there’s a scene between Edward and Susan as she reads one of his chapters, criticizing that it’s far too much about him, though it wasn’t all that interesting anyway. In the novel portion of the film, we immediately understand what we’re watching - it’s the life he hoped to have with Susan with murders that allowed him to express the heartache he had in losing Susan. When Edward doesn’t show up in the end, the cynic in me wanted to think he committed suicide, as simply failing to show up seemed a mediocre mode of vindication. A slight problem is that while the movie is solid and the ideas of memory, biography, and ambition are fascinating, the “Nocturnal Animals” story just doesn’t seem like it could play as an entire 300 page or so novel; leaving me to wonder if it too was yet another failure, or if it could have worked better as a short. Additionally, on account of three separate timelines, the love between Edward and Susan never gets well established. We’re able to fill in the loose details and Gyllenhaal’s performance is commanding enough to allow us to feel his pain, but in terms of why they’re together and what they see her,in each ot it all seemed a bit superficial; compounded by introducing an uptight Susan and taking the time to show her more vulnerable side upon returning home. It’s an excellent movie, making me excited for where Tom Ford goes next. The performances are so good throughout that it helps to mask the film’s minor weaknesses. It’s a film where it’s more fun to watch for the people than any grand examination of art, time, or meaning. In the two worlds of art and literature, where it’s difficult to find success, it’s even more difficult to find a partner willing to put up with poverty and extending the idealism of youth. I was left wanting to see what Edward had to say about writing a book that was evidently pretty good and if it made him any happier, or feel anymore relieved after losing Susan. The tragedy of both characters was in believing that their respective pursuits were going to offer full satisfaction; Susan with a life in a lucrative art gallery and with a rich husband and Edward living poor and writing. I’m not sure if the film ever identifies an inability compromise as the primary villain, but it’s strikingly clear and almost pitifully tragic. BELOW: One of the most thrilling scenes from the year Like what you read? Support the site on Patreon Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page  How I felt watching it Director: Gene Kelly and Stanley Donen Writer: Betty Comden and Adolph Green Cinematographer: Robert J. Bronner Producer: Arthur Freed by Jon Cvack The name of this film cannot stick with me. I’ve searched It’s Always More Fair and It’s Always Fairer at least a dozen times now while searching for the film, never able to recall the title. If you could judge a film by its name then this musical would honor the principle completely. Netflix advertised the movie as a satire of MGM musicals, which called to mind The Band Wagon (1953) and its ability to explore genre and trope within a traditional format. I had been on a role with Gene Kelly these last few years, specifically his collaboration with Frank Sinatra in On the Town (1949) and Anchors Aweigh (1945), figuring the same plot of soldiers returning from the war would offer another yet another solid addition, Sinatra or no. Unfortunately, it’s a film that plays like it was made with the year’s remaining budget, forfeiting big set pieces and matching song and dance numbers for a film that flirts with ideas about post-war alienation, never amounting to much. The film opens up on VJ day in 1945, as three war buddies Ted Riley (Gene Kelly), Doug Hallerton (Dan Dailey) and Angie Valentine (Michael Kidd) work their way through the parading streets, ending up at a bar where they each discuss their dreams. Angie wants to be a famous cook, Doug wants to be a world renowned painter, and Riley wants to be rich and successful. After an underwhelming song and dance sequence, they swear to meet up with each other in ten years. The time races by as wives, kids, and the professional grind impede their plans. Ted never becomes the big shot businessman (or whatever it was he hoped to be), currently involved with some mafiosos in fixing a fight; Doug has hit the corporate grind, moving up the ladder and abandoning the canvas; and Angie never gets his Michelin 3-Star restaurant, instead trying to manage a small diner. The three remember the bet, and while each has to finagle his way out of their commitments, they meet back up at the bar, finding that they have little to say, if not completely disliking each other. The film did a fantastic job of setting up an interesting situation in which the brotherhood formed in war fades when civilian life enter into the picture; leaving me thinking of alienation explored in The Best Years of Our Lives. It’s the musical element that stand in its own way. The film flirts with the more substantive issue. Doug offers the most interesting conflict as he reaches his breaking point with the executive role, getting wasted during a company party and embarrassing his boss. Angie’s story kind of fades by comparison whereas Ted offers your traditional gangster-gone-good redemption. Somehow they get involved with a television producer Jackie Leighton (Cyd Charisse) that wants to put their story on a live television show that night, plot serving the film to get both an attractive love interest into the mix along with providing an underwhelming climax. Riley eventually ditches out on the fixed fight and the gangster goes after him, ending up at the show where a fight breaks out and the police arrive. The whole thing feels grossly under budgeted, plays boring, though does illustrate that not all musicals from the period were the spectacle movies as seen in the more popular titles. Nothing in this film stands out beyond the possibility of a good story; exploring the lives of three men who discover they have little in common beyond the bonds of war. To think of all the sequences that could have stemmed from this seed - flashbacks to battles, drunken furloughs, spanning across all theaters of battle, all while trying to make the others understand why their life has become so ordinary - seems like one of the most significant missed opportunities in musical history. BELOW: One of the film's few impressive song and dance numbers 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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