It
is more about Macguffins than McGuffey.
Twenty-six directors from around the world were invited to kill people
off using successive letters of the alphabet.
The results vary. Such is usually
the case with anthology films, but even more so for producers Ant Timpson &
Tim League’s The ABCs of Death (trailer here), which opens
tomorrow in New York at the IFC Center.
The
titles of each constituent film often act as macabre punch lines, capping off
each bloody bit of business with a knowing wink. Therefore, to refer to many films by name
would often be spoilery. Fortunately,
they all come conveniently lettered for easy reference. Nacho Vigalondo’s “A” is a perfect example of
an ironic reveal. While not nearly as
inventive as Timecrimes or Extraterrestrial it offers some clever
black comedy to kick things off.
There
are some notable highlights, including Thomas Cappelen Malling’s “H,” which has
to be one of the darnedest WWII films ever.
It also helps rehabilitate the old “Keep Calm, Carry On” slogan after
the recent Amazon kerfuffle. Noburo
Iguchi’s “F” is an apocalyptic Yuri epic that should appeal to a wide range of
fetishists. Marcel Sarmiento earns major
style points for the visually dynamic genre-warping “D.” Perhaps the biggest twist is the one applied
to old school exploitation in Jake West’s “S.”
While not exactly classic, Yûdai Yamaguchi plays the premise of Hara-Kiri for laughs, succeeding to an
extent with “J.”
Yet,
there are considerably more misfires and head-scratchers than minor masterworks
in ABC. Jorge Michel Grau’s “I” is a short, nasty bit
of cruelty. Ti West’s slight “M” might
be the biggest disappointment, covering similar ground as several other
letters, but with far less plot or characterization. Yet, the film saves the worst for last with
Yoshihiro Nishimura’s “Z,” an incomprehensible mess, aside from the
irredeemably offensive misuse of 9-11 imagery.
At
least many of the worse entries are also the shortest. Here’s the speed-dating run-down on all
twenty six:
Nacho
Vigalondo’s A: Amusing but gimmicky.
Grade: B
Adrián
García Bogliano’s B: Connects with childhood fear more than any other entry—B
Ernesto
Díaz Espinoza’s C: Like a so-so installment of a cable horror anthology show—C
Marcel
Sarmiento’s D: Ambitiously expressionistic—A minus
Angela
Bettis’ E: Relatively funny creepy crawler black comedy—B minus
Noburo
Iguchi’s F: Entertainingly over the top—A minus
Andrew
Traucki’s G: Utterly forgettable—C minus
Thomas
Cappelen Malling’s H: Hugely inventive—A
Jorge
Michel Grau’s I: Vicious and depressing—F
Yûdai
Yamaguchi’s J: Unabashed slapstick—B minus
Anders
Morgenthaler’s K: One of several tales revolving around toilets—C minus
Timo
Tjahjanto’s L: Sick but surprising, like a the horror movie version of Eyes Wide Shut—C plus
Ti
West’s M: The complete waste of a perfectly good letter—F
Banjong
Pisanthanakun’s N: An effectively dark little O. Henry-esque story—B plus
Bruno
Forzani & Hélène Cattet’s O: Sexually explicit films ought to be more memorable—C
minus
Simon
Rumley’s P: More social realism than genre, but featuring strong performances—B
minus
Adam
Wingard & Simon Barrett’s Q: The first and funnier self-referential hipster
entries—B minus
Srdjan
Spasojevic’s R: Strong set-up, weak payoff—B minus
Jake
West’s S: One of the alphabet’s best—A
Lee
Hardcastle’s T: Unfortunately, you can
probably guess what T stands for—C
Ben
Wheatley’s U: Promising but leaves viewers wishing for a more fully developed
story—B
Kaare
Andrews’ V: Respectable foray into dystopian science fiction—B
Jon
Schepp’s W: Self-referential, but with
less bite and narrative cohesion—D minus
Xavier
Gens’ X: Disturbing and somewhat derivative, but well executed—C plus
Jason
Eisener’s Y: An unpleasant dud by any conceivable standard—F
Yoshihiro
Nishimura’s Z: Unwatchable, incomprehensible, and insulting—F
