The Conjuring: Last Rites

It wasn't as famous as the “Amityville Horror,” maybe because the “Smurl Haunting” doesn’t quite have the same ring. However, it still generated a 1991 TV-movie and a book by Ed and Lorraine Warren. They definitely considered it one of their major cases, so it makes a fitting conclusion to the Conjuring film series—but fear not, the “Conjuring Universe” should continue without them. Ominously, this time around, the demon in question seems to have a personal connection to the Warren family in Michael Chaves’s The Conjuring: Last Rites, which opens today in theaters.

In 1986, three generations of the Smurl family lived in their blue-collar suburban home, along with their new housemate, a demon. As a confirmation gift, Grandpa Smurl bought his granddaughter the most evil-looking mirror you could ever imagine. Obviously, that was a profound mistake. While the local diocese is ill-equipped to help the Smurls, the Warrens’ family friend, Father Gordon, understands the peril of their situation, but the demon gets to him before he can rouse the Church bureaucracy.

However, the Warrens’ grown daughter Judy traces the good Father’s final steps back to the Smurls. Ed and Lorraine had retired from paranormal field work, because of his heart condition. However, when they see the “black mirror,” they understand this case is personal. They previously encountered it in the prologue, which was the only case they walked away from out of fear.

The real-life Warrens were divisive figures, even among paranormal believers. Frankly, viewers should really just consider them original characters to the Conjuring Universe, because Patrick Wilson and Vera Farmiga portray them with such appealing earnestness. These films also position them as spouses and parents first and exorcists second, which is why the audience emotionally invests in them so easily.

Chaves previously helmed The Nun II and The Conjuring: The Devil Made Me Do It in the Conjuring Universe, so he has a clear affinity for the characters and the franchise’s more subtle approach to horror. Like its predecessors, Last Rites transforms everyday objects into sinister tools of the demonic. It is a slow build, but the mounting sense of dread is incredibly potent.

Despite their unfortunate name, the Smurls are a convincingly realistic family, who do not look like actors trying to dress down. The Conjuring films are always about families helping families, but that is especially true of Last Rites. As usual, the Warrens devote considerable time to consoling the distressed Smurls. It is not just their natural compassion. It is also part of a conscious strategy to disrupt what the Warrens identify as the second of the three stages of demonic activity: “infestation, oppression, and possession.”

Tribeca ’16: Special Correspondents

Radio reporter Frank Bonneville and his engineer Ian Finch could be called the Jayson Blairs of radio, except they really intended to cover the uprising in Ecuador. Unfortunately, a funny thing happened on the way to the airport. It was all Finch’s fault, as it often is. In accordance with their journalistic ethics, they will just fake it as best they can in Ricky Gervais’s Netflix original Special Correspondents (trailer here), which screens during this year’s Tribeca Film Festival.

After sleeping with the oblivious Bonneville, Finch’s preening wife Eleanor decides to give him the heave-ho. Frankly, it is probably the best thing that could happen to him, especially considering Claire Maddox the kind-hearted segment producer seems to be carrying a torch for him. The Ecuador assignment should be a convenient cooling-off period for Finch, but he rather inconveniently trashes their tickets and passports instead of his wildly ill-conceived letter to Eleanor.

With the borders closing imminently, Bonneville ensconce themselves in the spare room above their favorite coffee house and proceed to fake it so real, just like Edward R. Murrow would have done. When their “scoops” threaten to escalate the international incident, Bonneville and Finch are summoned to the embassy for their own protection. Of course, that is not going to happen, so they fake their abduction to cover for their absence. Then the stakes really start to rise when Eleanor Finch exploits the [fake] crisis as a means of establishing herself as a media celebrity.

Somehow Gervais (directing himself) maintains a level of mild amusement—light chuckles—consistently throughout Correspondents. There is funny stuff in there, but it is nothing like seeing the rat episode of Fawlty Towers for the first time.

As screenwriter, Gervais hits a nice tone, but he is not so well-informed when it comes to Latin America. Frankly, it is highly unlikely leftist guerrillas would revolt against the Correa regime. If a revolution broke out in the Cuban-Venezuelan-aligned nation (where the independence of the press and judiciary are routinely violated and thuggery is used to intimidate political rivals), it would be in the best interests of both the American people and the Ecuadorans to support the uprising, but our current administration would probably prefer to continue currying favor with the Castro regime.

Regardless, Gervais works overtime milking his likable sad sack shtick. However, it is Eric Bana who really gives the film some bite as Bonneville, the cocky prima donna. Vera Farmiga is ridiculously over-the-top as Eleanor Finch, but that is the whole point. Kevin Pollak also gets in a handful of sly line-deliveries as Bonnevilla’s less-than-impressed station manager.

Arguably, Correspondents is the perfect film to lead an almost entirely streaming life. It is diverting in the moment, but leaves nothing behind in the subconscious. More watchable than memorable, Special Correspondents launches on Netflix this Friday (4/29), following its world premiere at the 2016 Tribeca Film Festival.

Closer to the Moon: Romania’s Crime of the Century

Irony was usually lost on Communist apparatchiks. It was especially so in this case. The socialist authorities were completely baffled why a small band of former Party members would stage a daring armored car robbery for a few million worthless Romanian leu, at a time when everyone was desperately seeking hard foreign currency. Yet, the absurdity is the whole point for the disillusioned resistance heroes in Nae Caranfil’s Closer to the Moon (trailer here), which opens this Friday in New York.

All the major facts of Moon are historically accurate, but the why’s remain a bit murky. However, Caranfil’s speculations are more than persuasive. They clearly carry the spirit of the truth, even if they cannot be verified by the participants, for reasons one could easily guess. At, one time, police inspector Max Rosenthal and his comrades were ardent Communists and heroes of the resistance. They also happened to be Jewish. The post-war years would have been disheartening enough as the Communist Party proceeded to betray their ideals, but to make matters worse, the group of friends have all largely lost their positions thanks to the Stalin-mandated anti-Semitic purges. Only Rosenthal still maintains his post, entirely due to the fact he is married to the shrewish daughter of his superior. However, he is dead set on a divorce, regardless of the repercussions.

Sadly, Yorgu Ristea, the academic, Razvan Ordel, the journalist, and Dumitru Dorneanu, the research scientists have even worse seats in the same boat. The outlook is nearly as bad for Rosenthal’s old flame, Alice Bercovich, who had been sent abroad to study, but was recalled under ominous circumstances. Unlike the others, she has a son to protect. Yet, against her better judgement, she gets caught up in Rosenthal’s armored car scheme. Conceived as an existential protest, they hope to spur their countrymen to start questioning the claims of the Communist government. Of course, one of the central pillars of its propaganda is the supposed abolition of crime in Romania.

Both the scheme and the punishment are so crazy they have to be true. Rosenthal and his comrades really did perpetrate the heist under the guise of an action movie shoot (it would have been the first in Romania, had it been real). Likewise, the government really did force the condemned prisoners to re-stage the crime for a massively ill-conceived propaganda film. With nothing to lose, the prisoners largely take over the production (aided and abetted by Virgil, the fictionalized apprentice cameraman). Desperate to learn why they did it and who else might be involved, Holban the frazzled bureaucrat, indulges their demands for champagne and caviar, hoping the truth will come out during an unguarded moment. Yet, the truth is all around him, if he could only see it.

Obviously, this story holds tremendous cinematic potential, which Caranfil fully exploits, but he also gives it all a darkly wry comedic twist. At times, it feels like The Lives of Others rewritten by a less manic Alan Ayckbourne, but viewers are constantly reminded of the impending finality. Indeed, Caranfil nicely balances the absurdist humor with the tragic fatalism.

The mostly British cast is particularly well suited to the film’s matter-of-factly sardonic tone, especially Mark Strong, who personifies world-weary dignity as Rosenthal. Vera Farmiga gets to exercise both her drama queen and sultry femme fatale chops as Bercovich, making the most of each. Eventually, Christian McKay will break out for his witty, sophisticated performances, including his work here as the disenchanted Ristea. Game of Thrones’ Harry Lloyd is blandly forgettable as Virgil, but his job is mostly to observe. However, David de Keyser adds real heart and gravitas to the film as Moritz, the camera man’s VOA-listening landlord. British television regular Anton Lesser might also do his career best as the politically vulnerable insomniac, Holban.

Moon bears witness to the crimes of Communism in an unusually droll and humanistic way. It is a finely crafted period production, recreating the space exploration-obsessed late 1950s (hence the title) in detail, but Marius Panduru’s cinematography often looks a little too sunny given the events in question. Regardless, it is a fascinating story (already the subject of at least one worthy Romanian documentary) brought to life by a distinctive cast. It also represents a rare opportunity to see excerpts from the re-enactment film, which the Party immediately locked away in a vault, upon its completion. Highly recommended for fans of heist and con films as well as prestige historicals, Closer to the Moon opens this Friday (4/17) in New York, at the IFC Center.

Bates Motel: Norman and Norma

In this day and age, serial killers actually have fans.  Maybe it is not the best way to get back at your mother anymore.  Nonetheless, a mild mannered teenager named Norman has a complicated relationship with his mother Norma that will eventually drive him to become the definitive psychopath.  High school may not help much either.  Viewers will learn how he gets from here to there in A&E’s prequel reboot Bates Motel (promo here), which premieres Monday night.

Norman Bates as played by Anthony Perkins in Hitchcock’s original masterpiece and a series of better than you might expect 1980’s cash-in sequels was always a tragic figure, even when hacking away at a guest in the shower.  Despite the body count we never hated Bates, because he never took pleasure from his compulsions.  In contrast, Motel periodically intersperses its primary drama with flashforwards to what appear to be the mature psychotic Norman engaged in some Saw-like torture-horrors.  It is a rather dubious strategy, undercutting viewer sympathy for the appropriately awkward but earnest Freddie Highmore’s Norman.  At least that is the case in the first episode, “First You Dream, Then You Die.”

After some messy but ill defined business with Norman’s father, Norma Bates decides she and Norman need a fresh start.  Sleepy White Pine Bay looks like a nice place for it.  Buying a foreclosed motel right off the highway with a spooky old house out back, the Bates are ready to start over. Of course, Norma Bates is not about to allow her son to socialize with the school hotties who show an inexplicable interest in him.  She also hears some troubling news about a highway bypass.  Worst of all, the former owner seems determined to harass her.  This will be a profound mistake on his part.

Highmore really could pass for a young Perkins, but seeing Norman Bates with an mp3 player just does not feel right.  The character and locale are just so firmly in 1960, any attempts to update them are jarring.  Still, the interaction between Norman and Norma plays well for fans of the franchise.  Frankly, it is a little scary how easily we accept Vera Farmiga as the mother of all manipulative mothers.  It is hard to judge from just the initial outing, but even some of the high school kids show potential to grow as characters.  Indeed, innocent young Norman Bates confronting Twins Peaks-style small town mysteries is definitely a promising premise.  However, it is hard to get around the pilot’s buzz-killing tonal shifts.

Notwithstanding whatever the heck grown-up Norman is doing (who knows, maybe it is not really him), the first episode of Bates Motel is definitely hooky.  It would be nice to judge from a larger sample, but A&E has made shrewd but judicious use of the pilot, unveiling it at SXSW, so evidently most of the press have had to make do with the same.  Worth a second look, Bates Motel debuts tomorrow night (3/18) on A&E.

Fundie Funk: Higher Ground

Corinne Walker married into an exotic tribe: red state Evangelical Christians. She tries to make the best of it, but finds everything is always about God and never about her in Vera Farmiga’s star vehicle and directorial debut, Higher Ground (trailer here), which opens this Friday in New York.

CW Walker was an angry drunk whose wife Kathleen enjoyed flirting with the fundamentalist Pastor Bud. This environment makes daughter Corinne something of a rebel, who tries to check out Lord of the Flies from the library. Eventually, she goes all in marrying garage rocker Ethan Miller. However, when an accident on the tour boss sends him back into the Christian fold, she is back where she started from. At least she has a close confidante in family friend Annika, who makes Evangelical Christianity sexy. Unfortunately, her husband is almost willfully out of touch with her needs. As a result, she feels increasingly stifled at home and at church.

Higher Ground has been hailed by Blue State critics as an even-handed depiction of Evangelical Christianity. In practical terms, this only means they are not portrayed as Doomsday child molesters holed-up in a booby-trapped compound. Aside from Annika and the disillusioned protagonist, Evangelicals are uniformly portrayed as insensitive, uneducated, judgmental, insular bumpkins. When they speak of their faith (which they often do), it is clearly with the intent of creeping out the audience with all their weird God talk.

Though based on an alleged been-there-and-lived-to-tell memoir, the guts of Ground ring glaringly false. Though not of their religious tradition, I’ve campaigned with many during my political years. In most cases, outsiders will find Evangelical Christians are not psychologically tone-deaf as Ground suggests, but eerily attuned to the emotions of those around them. Frankly, the film more resembles an outsider’s caricature than an insider’s confessional. It also hardly helps that Farmiga and Joshua Leonard never look like a remotely believable couple.

Conversely, Farmiga’s younger sister Taissa is a perfect fit for the teen-aged Corinne Walker. Beyond her obvious likeness, she proves to have a smart, engaging screen presence, more so even than the senior Farmiga, in this case. Yet, probably the film’s most memorable turn comes from Dagmara Dominczyk, the daughter of Polish Solidarity activist Mirek Dominczyk, who was forced to accept asylum in America in 1983. She brings warmth and humanity to the devout but earthy Annika, so naturally her character has to be eliminated in rather dramatic fashion.

With the exception of Hump Day’s Leonard, who looks like a reject from a Judd Apatow comedy, Ground boasts an intriguing ensemble cast, featuring several Broadway stars, including Donna Murphy as Kathleen Walker, with fellow Tony winners Bill Irwin and Norbert Leo Butz both playing folksy pastors. By and large, the problem is not one of personnel but with the material they grapple with. Though it is probably destined to air repeatedly on the Oprah network, Ground is a disappointing film, far more prejudicial than the Evangelical community it disdains. Highly skippable, it opens this Friday (8/26) in New York at the Angelika Film Center.