Tin Soldier: Jamie Foxx Starts a Cult

Please, someone tell Hollywood there is more to the veteran experience than PTSD. Yes, it is sad reality and those who struggle with it deserve our support and understanding. Yet, there is also duty, honor, service, heroism, and comradery—which are all solid dramatic themes. Unfortunately, this film uses PTSD to define veterans and exploits it as a Macguffin to justify the formation of a sinister cult. It wasn’t a group of nobodies either. There are some big names in Brad Furman’s Tin Soldier, now playing in theaters.

As the film opens, Nash Cavanaugh is in worse shape than John Rambo at the start of the serious, psychologically realistic First Blood (Rambo #1). Cavanaugh had joined what he thought was a new agey PTSD peer-run treatment ominously called “The Program,” but it was really a personality cult led by the messianic Leon K. Prudhomme, who rebranded himself as “The Bokushi.”

Ironically, The Program started to work, but it was really because he fell in love with Evoli Carmichael. (By the way, I am absolutely not using a faulty AI program to generate these names.) Sadly, he accidentally caused her death while fleeing The Program to start a new life together. Since then, he just continued spiraling downward, until approached by commando Luke Dunn.

The FBI has laid siege to the Bokushi’s compound and is poised for a Waco-style assault. Before that happens, Dunn wants Cavanaugh to lead his team through the compound to take out Prudhomme and hopefully save lives, maybe even including Carmichael’s. Since her body was never recovered, maybe The Program faked her death. At this point, Cavanaugh slaps his forehead and says, “oh man, I wish I’d thought of that sooner.”

Of course, he agrees, even though Emmanuel Ashborn, the shady powerbroker financing the operation is obviously extremely sketchy. Further complicating matters, Dunn also recruits special operator Kivon Jackson, who is pointlessly hostile towards Cavanaugh.

Usually, when an unheralded film suddenly appears in theaters with a starry cast, in the case Robert De Niro, Jamie Foxx, and John Leguizamo, it is a strong indication of quality control issues, which is true here too. Bizarrely, even Rita Ora appears briefly as Dunn’s inside contact, Mama Suki, but by the time you start wondering if she’s really Ora, she’s already gone.

Frankly, the best work in the film comes from Scott Eastwood, who clearly wants to do right by his character and the issues he faces. Arguably, Foxx might have been entertaining in an over-the-top scenery-chewing kind of way, if Tin Soldier had been a more coherent film. Of course, De Niro just disinterestedly phones in scenes as Ashbrook. Frankly, he was probably thinking more about when the car service was scheduled to whisk him away to his next VOD shoot.

A Pure Place

It is a parable of fascism, refracted through a cult of personality, produced in Greece, by German filmmakers. That makes perverse sense, because if anyone knows fascism and authoritarians who demand obedience, it is the Germans and the Greeks. Two siblings will be corrupted by a psychopath’s cult of cleanliness and virtue in Nikias Chryssos’s A Pure Place, which releases today on VOD.

Initially, it sounds like Irina has bought into the purity mythos of the evil Jim Jones-like Fust, but he younger brother Paul cannot help but ask awkward questions. When Fust plucks her out of the basement soap factory to replace the aging Maria as his “favorite,” Irina is supposed to leave Paul behind, but she cannot shun him altogether.

Despite his less advanced years, Paul is the more experienced sibling, because he often helps Albrich, the soap foreman, ship and sell their product. That necessarily involves leaving the villa-compound, even though the children are told exposure to the air outside can lead to death. As he becomes more skeptical, Paul grows more defiant and potentially violent.

Having the Puritanical death cult produce soap is a little too on-the-nose and in-your-face, but that is definitely how A Pure Place rolls. It seems unlikely the Greek-German Chryssos would be totally unaware of soap-making’s horrific historical associations. Admittedly, the cult’s soap business is non-lethal, for the most part, but it summons far too real images, just for the sake of driving home his themes of outer cleanliness and inner corruption, with merciless blunt force.

Fantasia ’22: Cult Hero

Despite Canada's reputation for politeness, it turns out many of their satanic cults are quite inconsiderate. Their nemesis, one-time reality TV star and self-appointed cult-buster Dale Domazar can even be downright rude. He is also a total idiot, but Domazar means well, mostly. Regardless, he has a chance to redeem himself after the People’s Temple-like incident that ended his TV career in Jesse T. Cook’s Cult Hero, which received the Silver Award for Best Canadian Feature at the 2022 Fantasia International Film Festival.

Technically, Domazar was right about Theoren the Shepherd, but as we see in the prologue, he handled the situation badly. “Karen”-ish realtor Kallie Jones will give him a chance anyway, because he is the first cult deprogrammer she finds on a Craigslist-like site, but she is a demanding customer. In fact, her husband Brad was eager to stay at Master Jagori’s not-so-innocent New Age spa, to get away from her nagging.

Unfortunately, Jagori has some sort of body-part harvesting operation going on, as Brad comes to suspect. Yet, he still appreciates the peace and quiet. That is something his wife and Domazar will have little of, as they hide out in the creepy old Gothic Victorian house she has been unable to sell.

The initial sequences of Cult Hero appear as the VHS recordings of his reality show, but fear not. The rest of the film is presented as a proper movie. This is not a deliberately distressed-looking retro-grindhouse flick that tries to make a virtue of its minimal production values. Granted, Cult Hero is often meatheaded, but it is no Ninja Badass. In fact, under all the manic acting out, there is a sly sense of humor at work.

The Aviary

Say what you will, but cults have a solid business model. There are low barriers to entry and high barriers to exit. Two women learn that the hard way when they flee from their former cult leader “Seth” through the New Mexico desert in Chris Cullari & Jennifer Raite’s The Aviary, which opens Friday in New York.

Awkwardly, Gillian recruited Blair into the “Skylight” cult and now she wants to get her out. As a senior member, Gillian had a glimpse of Seth’s latest treatment and it scared her back into sanity (or did it?). They made a clean break for it, but as they make their way towards Gallop, Seth is still in their heads—certainly psychologically and perhaps also in fantastical uncanny ways. As a result, they find themselves walking in circles and increasingly distrusting each other.

Aviary probably isn’t truly horror, but it has horror-ish elements. Cullari & Raite previously created the entertaining 12 Deadly Days, which a lot of fans unfortunately missed out on. It tries hard, but The Aviary is not as clever nor as much fun. This story might have worked better as a chapter in an anthology. There is a lot of is-it-or-isn’t-it manipulation going on that is intriguing, but it also comes weighted down with endless scenes of the two women trudging and bickering through the sand.

Welcome to the Circle

They call themselves “The Circle” and they are big on “circle of life” symbolism. Yet, they are not as troubling as The Lion King, because unlike Disney, they are not complicit in the Xinjiang genocide of the Uyghurs. It might be a malevolent homicidal cult with apparent supernatural powers, but it has some kind of moral standards. Nevertheless, the mixture of horror and fantastical elements is frequently unnerving in screenwriter-director David Fowler’s Welcome to the Circle, which releases today on DVD and VOD.

“Fortunately” for Greg and his daughter Samantha, Circle cult-members Lotus Cloud and Sky happened along after their tent was mauled by a bear—at least that is their explanation. While the injured father recuperates, they initiate Sam in a crash course of indoctrination. Their flower child rhetoric sounds appealing to the young girl, but when the father comes to, he immediately suspects they are in a profoundly dangerous spot, as indeed they are.

According Mathew, who seems to have more authority than the women, their “community” was founded by Percy Stephens. According to anecdotes, he was a rather colorful adventurer, but the strange man seen at in distance in several surreal photos displayed around the compound looks banally evil, in a rather severe way. The film shifts gears dramatically around the halfway point, when we meet the spectacularly abrasive Grady, a cult deprogrammer hired by Gabriella and James to abduct/liberate their wife and sister. However, Grady declined to disclose his personal connection to the Circle, until it really starts to hit the fan.

It hits hard too. The secrets of the Circle are absolutely bonkers, including shifting identities, feedback loops, and mannequin-doppelgangers that appear to be uncannily generated. Think of it as Moorhead & Benson’s The Endless fused with Lynch’s Mulholland Drive, on peyote. There are times when Welcome might have actually been scarier if it had been a bit more grounded, but its inventiveness is truly (and literally) a trip. The way Fowler brings everything back to the circular theme is particularly intriguing. It is not merely hippy-dippy doublespeak. It is this essence of what the cult is and how it operates.

Even though the character initially comes on way too strong by any rational standard, Ben Cotton’s portrayal of Grady’s surly defiance in the face of the Circle’s sinister, disorienting machinations is an awesome force to behold. He even compares to Bruce Campbell in the Evil Dead franchise.

Japan Cuts ’20: Sacrifice

Before Japan was traumatized by the 2011 earthquake and tsunami, it was traumatized by cults like Aum Shinrikyo and the United Red Army. Midori is a college student who was traumatized by both. Her mother forced her to join the Sacred Tide cult, but she snapped out of their spell when she witnessed the destruction of 3-11. She never freed herself from the Tide’s clutches, but Midori did. Unfortunately, the cult has not forgotten about the young woman or her psychic powers in Taku Tsuboi’s Sacrifice, which screens as part of the Japan Society’s Japan Cuts Festival of New Japanese Film (all virtual this year).

Just before the disaster struck, Midori (the evil collective called her “Ap”) saw visions of it in a prophetic dream. That certainly impressed the Sacred Tide. Even though she managed to escape, they still keep tabs on her through brainwashed members stalking her on campus. To make matters worse, she is having catastrophic visions again.

Meanwhile, the popular but under-achieving Toko tries to take out her frustrations on loner Okita, after discovering his morbid fascination with a string of cat mutilation-murders. However, his interest is not what she assumes. Instead, he is conducting his own investigation, because he suspects the crimes are linked to the murder of a classmate.

Although Sacrifice lacks the operatic sweep and outré imagery of Sion Sono’s Love Exposure, the films are close cousins thematically. However, there is a ripped-from-the-headlines matter-of-factness to Sacrifice that just might make it more unsettling. Tsuboi vividly portrays how cult members willingly surrender their individuality. He also makes it clear doomsday cults are in the doomsday business.

Japan Cuts ’20: Special Actors

This cult supposedly worships a god from Jupiter about to celebrate its 8,396,825,800^th birthday (hey, who’s counting anyway?), but if it all sounds very Thetan, you’ve got the right idea. Of course, what the cult leaders really worship is money. A complex con worthy of The Sting is underway to expose them for what they are, but a struggling thesp with an acute physical aversion to confrontation is surprised (and a bit alarmed) to play a leading role in Shinichiro Ueda’s Special Actors, which screens as part of the Japan Society’s Japan Cuts Festival of New Japanese Film (all virtual this year).

Poor Kazuto literally faints at the first site of aggressive behavior, so all his auditions quickly go from bad to worse. It has also made it difficult to hold down a job. His doctor makes it clear his issues are mental, not physical, but he is not ready for the rigorous work required to change. He also happens to be broke, but he fortuitously meets his long-lost brother, Hiroki, who hooks him up with an unconventional acting gig.

At the “Special Actors” agency, Kazuto and Hiroki are sent out into the real world to fulfill clients’ practical requests, like making them look good in front of a woman they are trying to impress. However, the stakes dramatically escalate when the agency is hired by a young woman, whose older sister has fallen under the cult’s influence. The brainwashed sibling is about to sign over ownership of the family’s quaint country inn to the cult. Obviously, this is a job for the Special Actors, who send nervous Kazuto and brash Hiroki into the lion’s den as undercover cult recruits.

Ueda caused an unlikely international sensation with his debut film, One Cut of the Dead, which maybe features the biggest perspective changing twist since The Sixth Sense. He keeps the switcheroos coming in Special, but we are primed to expect them, especially since this is essentially a big con movie. Ueda maybe presses his luck a little this time around, but it still jolly good fun.

More importantly, Ueda’s sophomore is just brimming with heart, just like One Cut. Kazuto is painfully shy, but we feel for him as much as Ueda clearly does—and we root for him accordingly. As his namesake, Kazuto Osawa looks like the saddest of sad sacks and acts like a nervous puppy dog, but when he has his day, it is quite satisfying.

The Other Lamb: Not-So Pastoral

The Shepherd is better groomed than David Koresh and softer-spoken than Jim Jones, but they are all cut from the same cloth. The Shepherd also adds bigamist and implied incestuous overtones to his collective flock-keeping. He is obviously bad news, but he keeps his wives and daughters enthralled with his words—until one of them starts to have doubts in Malgorzata Szumowska’s The Other Lamb, which releases tomorrow on VOD.

Other Lamb is the sort of film that will be particularly hard hit by the migration of theatrical releases to pure VOD, because the best things going for it—really the only things—are its dreamy vibe and hallucinatory visuals. This film would play better on a big screen in a darkened theater, but the narrative and overwrought drama are no great shakes, regardless of the distribution circumstances.

Selah didn’t join the Shepherd’s cult. She was born into it. She has only known life in his hippy commune, so she believes everything he tells her ardently—especially since she is his clear favorite. However, a series of strange observations and waking dreams plant her first seeds of doubts. They will start to germinate when her first menstruation forces her to spend time apart from the collective with the pariah wife.

All the visions and nightmares promise something heavy will eventually happen, but getting to that point is truly a feat of endurance. If you feel that your time spent self-quarantining is flying by too quickly than by all means watch this film. Of course, there are no surprises once the inevitable finally comes to pass. Basically, this film is made for gender-focused Social Justice Warriors who find the Handmaid’s Tale to be too subtle and ambiguous. The message here is pretty simplistic: men are bad and religion is even worse.

DOC NYC ’19: In Bright Axiom

If you ever find yourself wondering “hey, am I in a cult,” then dude, mostly likely you are. Still, it is understandable why it would be hard to tell in the case of the House of Latitude. Secrecy was supposedly their watch word, but everyone was perfectly willing to participate in director-editor-co-writer-co-cinematographer Spencer McCall’s documentary, In Bright Axiom, which screens during DOC NYC 2019.

The origins of the House of Latitude go back to a fantastical era never documented in official human history. It had been dormant for centuries, but it rose from the ashes in the back alleys and brew pubs of San Francisco.

Just what is the House of Latitude? Essentially, it is the Jejune Institute 2.0. That is why those who have already seen McCall’s previous (and superior) “documentary,” The Institute will quite likely be a bit disappointed in Axiom. It is an unusually slick and stylish hybrid-doc-thingy, but The Institute maintained a greater sense of mystery. Frankly, the Latitude backstory is not as compelling either.

Ari Aster’s Midsommar

Blame Bernie Sanders for giving Millennials a false impression of Sweden. Granted, taxes are high, but it is a capitalistic economy that was arguably less regulated than our own, until we got some relief over the last two years (perhaps you have heard of Swedish companies, like Volvo, H&M, Ikea, and Ericsson). It is also overwhelmingly Lutheran, in an upstanding Calvinist kind of way, but for a group of hard-partying grad students, it is more fun to romanticize pagan solstice rituals. However, the midnight sun phenomenon is legit and it will contribute to the mounting disorientation the abrasively obnoxious tourists experience in Ari Aster’s Midsommar, which opens today in New York.

Dani is the likable one, relatively speaking, but an almost unbearable family tragedy has rendered her an emotional basket case. Her passive-aggressive boyfriend Christian is incapable of giving her the support she needs, because he has been too busy looking for an easy, no-stress exit from their relationship. Yet, he reluctantly invites her along on a trip to the Midsommar festival in northern Sweden, held every nine years at the commune where their fellow anthropology student Pelle lives. He seems a little less randy and crass than the other grad lads, but his interest in Dani may not necessarily be a good thing.

At first, everything is cool when the Americans (and two Brits brought along by Pelle’s cousin) drop acid and gambol in the fields. However, the first ritual is absolutely shocking, even to Josh, who is doing his thesis on midsummer folk traditions. Nevertheless, they stay, to keep the movie going.

There is no getting around the fact Midsommar is nowhere near as scary as Aster’s breakout debut, Hereditary. In fact, it is not really frightening, per se. Instead, more of a string of jaw-dropping, over-the-top set pieces, featuring a fair degree of gore. It is not unlike Guadagnino’s Suspiria remake-re-conception, because the primary response sought by both films is “Dude, WTF,” rather than fear or suspense. It is still definitely a horror movie, but it is all about spectacle rather than existential dread.

Yet, there are still elements of what could be considered hallmarks of a consistent Aster style. Once again, he plumbs the depths of human anguish, putting his lead through a torturous emotional ringer, within the first ten minutes. Arguably, he could be one of the few filmmakers working today who can address themes of grief and guilt in such a brutally honest, unsentimentalized fashion. In addition, we can see the way he employs art and décor to build tension. This time around, it is weird murals and folk paintings that set the tone, much like the eerie miniatures in Hereditary.

Midsommar could even have an outside shot at a best costume Oscar, if A24 campaigns hard for it. A lot of craftsmanship went into the film, but the narrative is rather standard stuff. There are no great surprises here, not even the kicker ending, which would not be out of place in a vintage issue of EC Comics.

Regardless, Florence Pugh and Jack Reynor hold up their ends with uncompromising, all-in performances, even when their characters’ excesses confound the audience’s desire to identify with them, or at least with Dani. Although Christian is a raging jerkheel, we can’t help tiring of her manic swings. Honestly, they are both so unpleasant to spend time with (and wait till you get an earful of Will Poulter as Christian’s horndog pal, Mark), you might just find yourself rooting for the pagan cult to Wicker Man everyone’s butt back to the pre-Christianity era.

That is really how you have to buy into Midsommar­—as a wild dive into a maelstrom of lunacy (again, very much like Suspiria). At times, Midsommar will make you laugh out loud. Other times, you will stomp and shout. It is mostly a good thing when films inspire strong reactions, even if a lot of fans were going in expecting to respond differently.

Of course, horror fans will need to see Midsommar just so they can form their own opinions. It is probably the most eagerly anticipated horror movie and sophomore film since Jordan Peele’s Us (which was better than Midsommar, but Hereditary was vastly superior to the over-hyped Get Out, so let’s call it a draw, so far). Recommended as nutty slice of Scandinavian midnight madness (but not a major new statement in the genre), Midsommar opens today (7/3) in theaters throughout New York, including the AMC Empire.

Sundance ’19: The Lodge

Step-parenting is always a tricky proposition, but it is especially so for Grace. As the sole survivor of a suicidal death cult, she has sort of already lost one “family.” Her prospective stepson and stepdaughter are less than thrilled to welcome her into their family. It is hard to form a conclusive judge about them or her in Veronika Franz & Severin Fiala’s The Lodge, which screens during the 2019 Sundance Film Festival.

Grace’s father was the charismatic leader of an apocalyptic Christian cult that committed mass-suicide Hale-Bopp-style. She was left behind to tell their tale, like the characters left standing at the end of Shakespeare’s tragedies. Should that make us trust her more or less?

Regardless, Richard fell for her hard while writing a retrospective piece on the cult. Aidan and Mia were already seriously unhappy with his decision to take up with Grace, but when their mother Laura is suddenly ushered out of the movie, Grace becomes the focus of their hard feelings. Hoping to bring peace to their awkward family unit, Richard books a getaway vacation at an isolated mountain lodge. Right, what could go wrong—aside from Richard getting called back to work just before a severe storm cuts off Grace and the two resentful children from the outside world?

Maybe Grace is a victim in all this, or maybe not, but either way, her cult backstory is massively creepy. Franz & Fiala frequently return to images of the mass suicide, which are especially disturbing, because they deliberately emulate news footage of the Heaven’s Gate cult. It is arguably exploitative, but undeniably effective.

In fact, The Lodge is consistently unsettling because of its uncertainties, starting first and foremost with the true nature of Grace’s character. Riley Keough’s subtle, ambiguous performance gives viewer plenty to support any interpretation. Likewise, as Aidan and Mia, Jaeden Lieberher and Lia McHugh make two of the most suspicious and intense kids to appear on film since the off-the-rails twins in Franz & Fiala’s Goodnight Mother.

If you want to get technical, there are probably some serious logical issues within The Lodge, but Franz & Fiala’s command of mood and atmosphere is so strong, we don’t even notice in the moment. The chills are further heightened by Thimios Bakatakis’s appropriately icy cinematography. However, the recurring use of a dollhouse motif is probably a mistake, because it automatically brings to mind comparisons to Ari Aster’s Hereditary. Recommended for fans of high-end horror, The Lodge screens again today (2/2), as part of this year’s Sundance Film Festival.

Tribeca ’18: 7 Stages to Achieve Eternal Bliss, Etc., Etc.

They dig their cults in LA. Just review the recent history: the Mansion Family, the Source Family, the SLA, Synanon, a satellite office of the People’s Temple, and of course, L. Ron’s Thetans. It is easy to see the cult of the Holy Storsh gaining traction here, but that is bad news for Claire and her underwhelming boyfriend Paul. They rented the apartment where Storsh shuffled off his mortal coil, so they must contend with a steady stream of cult members intending to follow his example. However, the malleable losers will adopt a policy of “if you can’t beat them, join them” in Vivieno Caldinelli’s 7 Stages to Achieve Eternal Bliss by Passing Through the Gateway Chosen by the Holy Storsh, which screens during the 2018 Tribeca Film Festival.

Claire should call her dad, because she is in a cult. To put it more accurately, she aspires to join a cult, which is sort of sad. Sadder still, her support network entirely consists of her unemployed boyfriend Paul, who is even weaker than she is. Initially, they are freaked out by the Storsh-heads who break into their flat to kill themselves after performing an absurd set of rituals, but one day Claire starts reading one of Storsh’s little red books left behind by a cultist—and suddenly it all starts to make sense to her.

Of course, she carries along the spineless Paul with her enthusiasm. Suddenly, they start ushering the Storshies into the tub and even help them take their final exit. In fact, Claire gets super enthusiastic about assisting their suicides. However, they also have to keep the detective assigned to Storsh body-processing at bay.

The first fifteen minutes or so are mildly amusing, but 7 Stages Etc., Etc. never goes above, beyond, or below the level of a sketch comedy show routine. Basically, the film plateaus at a constantly level of one-liners and carefully calibrated bits of mildly transgressive slapstick. A film about a suicidal death cult should never become formulaic and repetitive, but that is what happens here. As a further source of annoyance, Caldinelli and the producers cast a number people like Dan Harmon, whom the entertainment media are constantly telling us how funny we find their work, but have no appreciable following with real people, aside from a few dozen podcast listeners.

Frankly, Harmon is excruciatingly embarrassing as the neurotic Det. Cartwright. It is also uncomfortable for very different reasons to watch how hard Kate Micucci tries to make it work as Claire. On the other hand, Sam Huntington takes the intentionally annoying character of Paul and makes him utterly nauseating. Yet, to give credit where it is due, it is duly stipulated Taika Waititi is thoroughly and profoundly eerie as old Storshy (seen in flashbacks).

I’m sure we are all looking forward to the day when 7 Stages plays on a triple bill with Who is Harry Kellerman and Why is He Saying Those Terrible Things About Me and The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford. Seriously, a ridiculously long title has to be the cheapest gag possible. In this case, its fitting. Not recommended, 7 Stages screens again this Saturday (4/28), as part of this year’s Tribeca Film Festival.

Sundance ’18: Mandy

Which is deadlier, a drug-running hippie death cult or two lovers who dig their comic books and sf? Tragic history says the dirty smelly hippies, but the only caveat is the fannish logger husband will be played by Nic Cage. He will have a chance for a full freak out when the cult leader abducts his wife in Panos Cosmatos’s Mandy, which screens during the 2018 Sundance Film Festival.

Red and Mandy Miller live happily in a remote cabin nestled in the Shadow Mountains. It is an Eden-like existence, until Mandy attracts the attention of Jeremiah Sand, a hippy cult leader most likely inspired by Manson, right down the failed release of hippy-dippy rock album. With the help of the vaguely supernatural Black Skulls biker gang, Sand and his brotherhood stage one of the most vicious home invasions you could imagine.

Initially, Sand tries to brainwash her with a special cocktail of mind-control drugs, but when Mandy resists their influence, he brutally murders her before Red’s eyes, leaving him for dead. That would be the cult’s only mistake and it might be enough to bring them down. Still, Miller’s crusty old trailer-dwelling crony warns him this vendetta could cost him his life, but Red is in no mood for such talk.

Essentially, Mandy is the male version of I Spit on Your Grave, as re-envisioned by Boris Vallejo, featuring fantastical matte paintings and brief animated cosmic interludes. Cosmatos doubles down on all the hazy neon visuals and synth-heavy proggish 1980s soundtrack music (think Tangerine Dream warmed up in Hell) that made less discerning cult movie fans flip for his first film, Beyond the Black Rainbow. However, this time around, he is also working with a narrative.

So, yes, this film is completely bonkers, but Nic Cage is right there with it, every step of the way. Forget about Leaving Las Vegas. This will be the film he will be remembered for forty years from now. He unleashes the Cage of Wicker Man and Mom and Dad for full effect. He is not quite Isabelle Adjani walking through the subway tunnel in Possession, but he is in the same gated community. Despite their classy pedigrees, Linus Roache and Andrea Riseborough keep in the spirit of the proceedings, as Sand and the title character. Plus, for an extra dose of hardnosed badassery, Bill Duke appears briefly but memorably as Miller’s old Jedi Master.

Just so you know, there is a chainsaw duel in Mandy. At one hundred-twenty-one minutes, it is shamelessly self-indulgent in just about every way possible, but you cannot accuse of getting stingy with the madness. Frankly, it over-delivers on the promised lunacy. Highly recommended for midnight movie regulars who fully understand what they are getting into, Mandy screens again Wednesday (1/24) and Saturday (1/27) in Park City and this afternoon (1/21) in Salt Lake, as part of this year’s Sundance.

One of Us: The Horror of the Hippy Harem Cult

Brent (if that is his real name) must be a cult leader. He has his followers convinced GMO food is dangerous despite the overwhelming scientific evidence to the contrary. They accept his pronouncements uncritically, because they have fallen under the sway of his dominating charisma. The mind-control drugs also help. An investigative journalist will infiltrate his Ascension Family Commune, but she might be falling under his influence as well in Blake Reigle’s One of Us (trailer here), which is now available on DVD, from Monarch Home Entertainment.

Melanie Roberts has a talent for sniffing out stories, but she is not so good at living responsibly, despite the efforts of her ex-cop big sister Sophie and her easily up-managed editor. Right from the start, her latest story is dangerously personal. Roberts received a distressed phone call from her college friend Haley Cooper that was rather ominously cut-off mid-sentence. Her last known whereabouts was the Java Collective, a coffee shop run by Brent’s harem-like cult.

Like a savvy journo, Roberts basically throws herself at Partridge Family Cult and they accept her without a second thought, especially Brent, who is quite welcoming indeed. Awkwardly, her new roommate Luna is the only one who distrusts and resents her presence. Of course, there is a strict no cellphone policy, requiring her to turn over her phone. Unfortunately, that means her sister will not be able to warn her when she figures out just how dangerous Brent truly is.

At a time when cultural and political identity is becoming increasingly tribalized, a film that warns of the dangers of cults is rather welcome. However, One of Us pales in comparison to recent standouts, like The Sacrament and Faults. To their credit, screenwriters Andrea Ajemian & Blaine Chiappetta do a nice job establishing Brent’s evil New Age doctrines. The problem is the film is too blasted restrained. Most of those 1970s network made-for-TV horror films starring Kate Jackson are more intense than this.

Still, Derek Smith is chillingly convincing as the Svengali-like Brent. Watching him is practically a masterclass in cult manipulation, which would be a bad thing if someone really started to apply it. In contrast, Christa B. Allen is a problematically weak lead. However, that leaves room for Ashley Wood to steal scenes as the refreshingly proactive and well-armed Sophie Roberts. Amongst all the cult members, Chasty Ballesteros stands out as Luna, because she shows the greatest range and her character gets the most dramatic development arc.

If nothing else, One of Us gives us a vivid reminder that anyone who won’t shut up about GMO junk science probably belongs to a cult. It sets up the sinister inner workings of the Commune quite credibly, but it never goes sufficiently bonkers. It’s not bad, but there just ought to be more. Only for serious cult obsessives, One of Us is now available on DVD, from Monarch Home Entertainment.

Jackals: 1980s Death Cults Strike Again

The year is 1983. Memories of the 1978 Jonestown People’s Temple mass suicide are still relatively fresh. Cults continue to dominate tabloid headlines—and the fear is warranted. The Powell family could very well be sadistically tortured and murdered by the cult that seduced the younger brother Justin, but at least he is not a Scientologist. Yet, this ominous mask and leather jacket-wearing band of ritual murderers might even be slightly more stalkerish. When the Powells abduct Justin for a Ticket to Heaven-style deprogramming, they will quickly find themselves under siege in Kevin Greutert’s Jackals (trailer here), which opens tomorrow in Los Angeles and Denver.

The prologue should give us an idea what the Powells will face when one long-estranged cult member murders his God-fearing, Reagan-voting family in the middle of the night. However, Kathy and Andrew Powell have opted to go on the offensive, hiring Marine Corps veteran Jimmy Levine to whisk Justin off to their remote cabin to give him a serious talking to. Jerky older brother Campbell has his doubts regarding their strategy, which will soon be vindicated. Unfortunately, that cabin is a little too remote for their own good. When a small army of Jackal-mask wearing cult-members surrounds their mountain home, they are clearly on their own.

Levine and the Powells are outnumbered at least ten to one, but the cultists hold back. According to the Jack Bauer of deprogrammers, they are giving Justin time to free himself and earn redemption on his own. Nevertheless, there will be periodic skirmishes that will thin Team Powell’s already meager numbers.

Jackals hardly breaks any new ground, but it is still viscerally effective, in a throwback 1980s kind of way. In terms of the look, score, and a narrative reminiscent of Assault on Precinct 13, the film wears its John Carpenter influences on its sleeve. Greutert and screenwriter Jared Rivet understand how cults’ ruthlessness and collective denial of individuality get under our skin and they skillfully play on those fears. To that end, they do little to differentiate the violent hordes massing outside the cabin, with mixed results. There is no central villain to get our blood circulating, but their almost supernaturally hive-like behavior is definitely creepy.

Stephen Dorff is absolutely terrific as Levine. In fact, he could have been one of the great horror movie protagonists, but the film ill-advisedly undercuts him in a forehead-slappingly frustrating way. It is also cool to see Deborah Kara Unger as Kathy Powell, the wine-swilling mother. Johnathon Schaech gives the film more dignity and presence than you would expect, as Andrew Powell, the unfaithful father. The rest of the cast is serviceable, but they never leave much impression.

Jackals would be a satisfying film to watch late at night with a couch full of rowdy housemates, but it would have trouble justifying premium Manhattan ticket prices. However, it is slick and scary enough to warrant horror fans keeping Saw franchise veteran Greutert on their radar. (After all, it took fellow Saw-helmer Darren Lynn Bousman several tries before he finally realized a film as good as Abattoir.) Recommended to stream or rent, Jackals opens tomorrow (9/1) in LA at the Grauman’s Chinese Theater and in Denver at the AMC Highlands Ranch.

Tribeca ’17: The Endless

Maybe the hippie commune Justin Smith rescued his younger brother Aaron from was not quite the “castrating doomsday UFO cult” he thought it was, but you still would not call it a New Religious Movement. Regardless, the brothers are probably not being unduly alarmist when they assume the worst from a “goodbye” video they receive from a former friend. Against the older brother’s better judgement, they will visit their former “family” before they “ascend” in Justin Benson & Aaron Moorhead’s The Endless, which screens during the 2017 Tribeca Film Festival.

Frankly, one look at the smiling tool standing at the gate of Camp Arcadia would have made us do an immediate one-eighty. The anti-social fellow who keeps brusquely walking in straight lines is also rather off-putting. However, Anna, their big sister figure is as lovely and welcoming as ever—and she hardly seems to have aged at all.

In contrast, life has been hard for the brothers in the years that followed their Camp Arcadia escape. In fact, Aaron remembers the plentiful food and kumbaya gatherings rather fondly. Justin was hoping their visit would serve as an antidote to his nostalgia, but it might have the opposite effect. However, after the older brother gets the heave-ho from Arcadia, he stumbles into the truth. The real secret of Camp Arcadia is truly Hellish in a Sisyphean sense, but the camper cultists have embraced it out of their warped hippy spirituality.

There is no question the big reveal and its implications takes a while to unpack. However, it mostly all tallies, once you account for the varying severity of the x-factor in question. In any event, the cosmic scope and ambition of Endless are quite impressive, especially considering the intimate scale of the drama. Filmmaking partners Benson and Moorhead are terrific as the Smith Brothers. They really demonstrate the fine line between love and resentment, constantly crossing over and back. Perhaps drawing on their experience making Resolution, Spring, and the “Bonestorm” segment of V/H/S Viral, B&M really project a sense of the brothers’ long, chaotic shared history together.

In all honesty, The Endless is one of the more intelligent and emotionally sophisticated genre films you will see all year, but it has received unfairly middling notices thus far at Tribeca. This may well be due to the cult-themed subject matter. At a time when the advocacy-media is promoting large-scale demonstrations, any film that problematizes acquiescence to the moral judgement of the collective unit is likely to face instinctive resistance, so to speak.

That will be a real shame if it successfully dampens the enthusiasm of fans of Benson & Moorhead’s prior films. Smart, tense, and psychologically realistic, The Endless is highly recommended for fans of cult movies (in both senses) when it screens again tonight (4/26) and Saturday (4/29), as part of this year’s Tribeca Film Festival.

Sundance ’16: F’n Bunnies (short)

Those Scandinavians are so progressive and permissive—especially an old leftie like Raimo, but his new next door neighbor will really put him to the test. Miku is the bigamist leader of a satanic sex cult, but he looks like a Juggalo, which would be even worse. Time will tell whether Raimo learns to set aside his prejudices and join the sinister orgies or remains a middle-aged fuddy-duddy in Teemu Niukkanen’s Fucking Bunnies, part of the Midnight Shorts Program screening at the 2017 Sundance Film Festival.

Raimo goes out of his way to be nice to the minorities who work in his public housing project, as well as the junkies who crash outside. Yet, Miku is just too much for him to deal with. Despite his KISS-style face paint and loud parties, everybody seems to think Miku is a heck of a guy, including Raimo’s wife. To make things particularly awkward, both are experienced squash players in need of partners. His wife keeps pushing him to make nice with Miku, but Raimo just can’t do it—and can you blame him?

Bunnies is a bold satire—arguably too bold for its own good. Obviously, it wants to make a statement about tolerance and xenophobia, especially in light of the refugee humanitarian crisis/invasion, but it is perfectly appropriate for Raimo to be appalled when he finds Miku engaging in wet, messy S&M sex in the basement storage area. (seriously, most of Europe’s “new immigrants” wouldn’t cotton to that either, but they might be okay with Miku’s twenty wives).

Bunnies could well have the opposite effect than Niukkanen intended, but at least it is funny (which is more important from a viewer’s perspective). As Raimo, Jouko Puolanto is a generous straight man, while Janne Reinikainen’s Miku is completely nuts. The glaring contrast between them is a solid comedy bedrock. Niukkanen and co-screenwriter Antti Toivonen are not afraid to push the boundary of propriety. We have to admire their chutzpah, even though it probably undermines the teaching moments.

Hey, aren’t you supposed to use Western Union to send messages anyway? The edgy humor of Bunnies is sure to bring down the house with cult film fans, who will surely spread the word. Recommended for the late-night crew, Fucking Bunnies screens again in the Midnight Shorts Program tonight (1/21) in Salt Lake and Monday (1/23) and Thursday (1/26) in Park City, during this year’s Sundance.

NYFF ’16: Genre Shorts

It is generally accepted as fact psycho-stalkers are always scarier when they are German, but cult leaders are still creepy even when they are woolen-wearing British matrons. Prepare to have your suspicions reconfirmed when the 54th New York Film Festival takes horror and dark thrillers international—and also succinctly to the point—with Shorts Program 3: Genre Stories, which screens tonight as part of the fest.

Charles Dickens’ supernatural yarn The Signalman has not been filmed very often. The last time was probably a 1970s BBC Christmas special starring Denholm Elliott (Yuletide ghost stories are a big deal over there). However, Daniel Augusto still assumes everyone knows the story, because he dispenses with the narrator character (who would otherwise explain what is going on) and mostly implies rather than shows the events of the story. Still, it is an undeniably moody and evocative piece, lightyears more enjoyable than his recent feature, Paulo Coelho’s Best Story.

Things get seriously serious with Johannes Kizler & Nik Sentenza’s Can’t Take My Eyes Off of You. Yes, there is a slasher home invasion film at NYFF, so sit up and pay attention. Basically, Eyes Off plays like the prologue to a Scream movie, but those are always the most memorable sequences. A mother and teenage daughter are arguing over her absentee father, but they are not alone in their tony modernist McMansion. Things proceed exactly as they always do, but you have to give Kizler & Sentenza credit for their slick, tight, tense, and brutally effective execution.

People die all the time in Jack Burke’s New Gods, but it is really more of a cult-themed psychological drama than a horror film. Still, you really wouldn’t want to be there either. Rosemary looks like a high school art teacher, but she rigidly commands the agrarian collective known simply as “The Community.” That means no medicine for those who are sick. They are to simply make their peace and shuffle off, unless you happen to be especially useful to Rosemary. In that case, exceptions can be made. Unfortunately, the hard toiling Sophie is running a fever, but she has no special skills. The premise and climax of New Gods could most likely sustain a feature length treatment, but Burke’s remarkably economical narrative feels fully rendered and satisfactorily self-contained in its current short subject format.

Evidently, in Luxembourg, they have a baby-tooth hoarding mouse instead of the Tooth Fairy. We’re much better off than the Benelux nation, as a grown fanboy dad and his son will learn when they come face to whiskered-face with the ferocious rodent in Pascal Thiebaux & Gil Pinheiro’s Pearlies. While cleaning out the late grandmother’s flat, father and son inadvertently cause the loss of one of the mean little creature’s prized teeth, so he will take a replacement the hard way. With its richly detailed sets and over-the-top dark humor, Pearlies has the look and vibe of early Tim Burton or early Sam Raimi, making it quite a macabrely amusing confection.

The ringer of the programming block is also a real downer. After enjoying all the previous genre goodness, Kristy Guevara-Flanagan’s What Happened to Her sets out to guilt trip horror and police procedural fans by rubbing their noses in images of naked women corpses, as seen in films and TV shows. Of course, viewers are not supposed to enjoy those images. Rather, they are priming us for future payback.  It is sort of like That’s Entertainment for floating bodies, but instead of music we hear a voice-over interview with a former extra who found her corpse portrayal physically uncomfortable and emotionally demeaning. It is might have been an unpleasant gig, but it is hard to see it haunting her, like more conventionally explicit sex scenes. Regardless, it is almost perversely amusing to see the axe-grinding docu-supercut sharing the bill with Can’t Take My Eyes Off of You.

Indeed, the shorts preceding Happened mostly celebrate the tradition of genre filmmaking in rather entertaining ways. As a result, Shorts Program 3: Genre Stories is quite a mixed bag, but it is front loaded with enough reputable and guilty pleasures to earn a recommendation for horror and dark thriller fans when it screen tonight (10/1) and Monday night (10/3), as part of this year’s NYFF.

The Invitation: Dinner Party with Kool-Aid

Never ignore the weird things people say. We are socially conditioned to explain away odd statements. We want to think so-and-so “just didn’t realize how that sounded.” Unfortunately, this just sets us up for even worse awkwardness. A grieving father recognizes the bizarre nature of his ex-wife’s cult, but his ragingly anti-social behavior will not help his cause in Karyn Kusama’s The Invitation (trailer here), which releases today in a special BluRay-DVD-digital bundle.

When Will and Eden’s son Ty died in a freak accident, it killed their marriage as well. For the last two years, he has tortured himself, while Eden disappeared off the face of the earth. It turns out she was in Mexico with her future second husband David and members of a supposed grief support group called Invitation. However, even David Miscavige would admit they display cult like tendencies. Plus, the leader vaguely resembles Wayne Dyer.

Having finally returned her luxurious house in the Hills, where she once lived with David and Ty, Eden throws a homecoming party for her old friends. She also invites Will and his relatively new significant other, Kira. Pruitt and Sadie, two of Eden’s fellow cult members are also there to give Will bad vibes. Before long they bust out the cult recruitment videos, but everyone except Will is still willing to give them the benefit of the doubt.

Through rapid cuts, Kusama shows us brief, nearly subliminal flashbacks, flashforwards, or representations of Will’s inner emotional turmoil. It is intended to keep us off-balance and guessing whether Will or David and Eden are the nutty ones, but it only clouds the narrative.

However, Kusama is spot-on in the ways she depicts the other guests bending over backward to explain away the dubious behavior of Eden and David and Pruitt and Sadie. Kasuma and screenwriters Phil Hay & Matt Manfredi perfectly nail the ways cults manipulate people. It is a pretty darned frightening process to watch unfold.

Arguably, all the time Will spends sulking on his own ought to be a credibility problem, considering he is at a dinner party with old friends, but you can hardly blame him. The only guest who seems like any fun is Michelle Krusiec’s hard partying Gina, but at least she gives the film constant energy boosts. As Will, Logan Marshall-Green broods like a monster. John Carroll Lynch (Marge Gunderson’s husband in Fargo) is creepy as heck as Pruitt. Likewise, Michiel Huisman’s David is smoothly sinister, but Tammy Blanchard’s drugged out expression and Morticia Addams wardrobe are dead giveaways as to Eden’s true colors.

Eden’s well-appointed home is also a real design triumph. Looking both tony and eerie, it facilitates the story quite remarkably. Periodically, Kusama will push the envelope of credibility, but when she simply lets events unspool, it is uncomfortably believable. Definitely recommended for horror fans (despite some quibbles along the margin), The Invitation is now available on BluRay/DVD from Drafthouse/MVD.

Rebirth: Its What You Need On Netflix

Any self-help book that is actually legitimate should be the first and last one you’d ever need to read. Likewise, going through a process called “Rebirth” definitely sounds like a one-time only experience. Yet, apparently many followers keep getting Rebirthed over and over again. It is hard to understand why, given how harrowing the process is for a reluctant new initiate in Karl Mueller’s Rebirth (trailer here), a Netflix original movie that starts streaming today.

Kyle Something is a striving yuppie with a wife and kid, who has made peace with his conversion to bourgeoisie respectability—mostly. Then along comes his long-lost, off-the-grid, counter-culture college roommate Zack to rock his world with an invite to some sort of Kumbaya retreat called “Rebirth.” Against his better judgement, Kyle agrees to attend, but then feels rather put out when it looks like he already missed the whole show.

It turns out, they are just going to make him work for it. Yet, even when he follows the clues, everyone makes him feel distinctly unwanted, especially the cult’s high-ranking femme fatale, Naomi. She has a habit of answering questions even more pointed questions, which will have viewers pulling their hair out in exasperation, along with Kyle, but that strong reaction is sort of the whole point.

As Kyle wanders through the cult’s complex, he will stumble into 1960s encounter groups from Hell, hazy, drugged-out orgies, and some Medieval genre business. However, something about the Rebirth shtick keeps him from taking flight. Indeed, Mueller is absolutely spot-on identifying the manipulative methods cults use to control people. Frankly, the wilder Kyle’s Rebirth gets, the more believable the film becomes.

Fran Kranz is cringe-inducingly perfect as the gawky, out-of-his-depth Kyle. You can see how uncomfortable he is in his own skin. He just has potential cult victim written all over him. Frankly, he is probably just lucky Rebirth got to him before Scientology. Nicky Whelan, resembling an aloof Robert Palmer back-singer, just makes him look small. Adam Goldberg is also surprisingly sinister channeling his inner New Age puppet-master as the slogan-spouting Zack. For extra added genre cred, Pat Healey eventually turns up in a cult-related role. However, nothing is scarier than Harry Hamlin playing a touchy-feely love guru.

Mueller’s execution is tight and tense, bearing out the promise of his unjustly under-rated Mr. Jones. He seems strangely comfortable navigating the terrain between psychological thriller and horror movie. It all works so well, you will rush to re-read Eric Hoffer’s True Believer and Lawrence Wright’s Going Clear after watching it. Recommended for fans of cult films about cults, Rebirth now streams on Netflix.