Orphan: First Kill

This entire film is a spoiler alert for its possible franchise, because if you haven’t already seen Jaume Collet-Serra’s Orphan (released in 2009), it reveals the original film’s big shocking twist in the first ten minutes. There is a very good reason nasty little Leena has been confined to an Estonian asylum for the criminally insane. Viewers know her better as Esther, the name she adopts after her violent escape in William Brent Bell’s Orphan: First Kill, which releases today in theaters and on-demand.

Dr. Novotny kept warning his staff to always be on their guard when around the little monster, but they just didn’t listen. A few bloody murders later, Leena finds a photo online of Esther Albright, a missing American girl she can pass herself off as, due to the passage of time and a bogus Russian kidnapping yarn. Of course, Albright’s sensitive artist father Allen is so overcome with joy, he unquestioningly accepts everything she says. However, Tricia Albright knows there is something wrong with her story and their child psychologist also notices some inconsistencies.

Make no mistake, Mother Albright is one tough customer. People are always so dumb in horror movies, but not her, no siree. Esther is a master manipulator, but she will have a harder time pulling-off her Bad Seed-esque head-games with Ms. Albright than she did with Vera Farmiga in the first film. In fact, their cat-and-mouse business is what makes First Kill so much fun.

It is pretty amazing Isabelle Fuhrman can still play Esther, over ten years after the first film released. Admittedly, she had some SFX help, but there is also something about the character’s sinister nature that encourages the suspension of disbelief in this respect. Yet, Julia Stiles’s performance as Albright is what really makes the film work so well. She is sharp and witheringly funny. As a result, she and Esther are pretty evenly matched, which actually builds the kind of tension and suspense that is hard to get from prequels (because let’s face it, logic already tells us exactly what will happen).

The Drowning: A Waterlogged Psychological Thriller

It takes advanced psychological training to really delve into a suspect’s inner psyche, but not in Danny Miller’s case. You tell just by looking at him he is an unhinged psychopath. Partly it is the piercing stare, but the total disregard for personal space does not help either. When he starts stalking the forensic psychologist who helped convict him of murder, the white bread Tom Seymour should just violate his parole, but instead he obsesses right back in Bette Gordon’s The Drowning (trailer here), which opens today in New York.

While perambulating in sleepy Connecticut, Seymour and his wife Lauren pull a would be suicide out of the drink and resuscitate him. Much to his surprise, Seymour subsequently learns this was the creepy minor he helped incarcerate. Of course, he cannot tell his wife any of this, so she is rather baffled why he acts so standoffish whenever Miller comes around to thank them, over and over again.

Apparently, Seymour cut a few ethical corners in his original examination, but the relentless stalker behavior ought to confirm justice was done. However, his in-the-know parole officer has gone over to Team Miller and is pressuring Seymour to play nice.

Basically, The Drowning is one long face-palm of a film. Talk about doing things the hard way. If there is ever a perversely difficult option, these characters will go for it every time. Seriously, you would think Seymour would find a way to tell his wife, “look, I can’t spell it out, but I know this guy from my work, so be careful.” Conversely, you would hope she would get suspicious constantly running into him in the City at the Ace Hotel, Magnolia Bakery, Chelsea Piers, and the Gagosian gallery. Quell coincidence.

As Seymour the head-shrinker, Josh Charles is dull enough to pass for someone who prefers CT to NYC. Frankly, Julia Stiles is one of the most under-rated screen actresses working today, but here she is stuck playing one of the most unintuitive characters to ever navigate the streets of Lower Manhattan. Avan Jogia plays Miller to the hilt, gluttonously chewing the scenery. We appreciate the effort, but it makes the underlying premise all the more difficult to buy into. At least we can still count on John C. McGinley to spread some sunshine as Seymour’s former-dodgy prosecutor-turned-dodgy defense attorney friend.

With their adaptation of Pat Barker’s novel, screenwriters Stephen Molton and Frank Pugliese clearly want us to leave the theater thinking: Miller was drowning in water, but Seymour was drowning in lies. Oh, the irony. Unfortunately, we are always six or seven steps ahead of everyone in the film, which gets boring after a while. Despite some colorful supporting turns, The Drowning is not recommended when it opens today (5/10) in New York, at the IFC Center.

Out of the Dark: a Colombian Grudge

Mercury is a naturally occurring element, so who’s to say there really was a spill at the “old paper mill?” Or maybe those grudge-holding supernatural hellions are actually the restless spirits of children killed by conquistadors instead of mercury-riddled kids. Either way, they want some payback against exploitative westerners in Lluís Quílez’s Out of the Dark (trailer here), which opens tomorrow in New York.

Sarah Harriman has come to Colombia from the UK to take over the old man’s paper mill. Not the “old mill,” mind you. Nobody goes there anymore. She will be managing the shiny new mercury-free mill. Her husband Paul is able to stay at home with their daughter Hannah, because he is a children’s book illustrator. Is that job really cool enough though? Maybe he should have been a rock & roll children’s book illustrator.

As we know from the prologue, there are some very hacked off whatevers haunting the Harrimans’ palatial new digs. Poor Dr. Contreras Sr. will sacrifice his life for the sake of our exposition. Before long, they start tormenting young Hannah, who subsequently starts exhibiting signs of a bizarre malady. Of course, the Harrimans are concerned, but they keep shutting her door tight and nipping off to the opposite side of the oligarchical estate. Hey guys, maybe keep the door open a crack or buy a baby monitor or just quietly check on her every so often? Before long, the malevolent beings make off with Hannah, driving each Harriman out looking for a trail to follow.

It seems like an awful lot of Out consists of the Harrimans standing around, saying things like “oh, don’t disturb her, I’m sure she’s fine.” Still, the house is terrifically creepy. Also, Julia Stiles and Scott Speedman come across like a believable couple (but not too bright). As Grandpa Jordan, Stephen Rea is a dependably intriguing screen presence, especially when he skulking around, greasing the palms of corrupt Colombian politicians. However, young Pixie Davis is the only member of the family who sounds legitimately British (somehow she has an Irish grandfather, a Canadian father, and an American mother).

Frankly, Stiles has been criminally under-rated. She was terrific in Twelfth Night at the Delacorte (Shakespeare in the Park), but this is probably not the film that will win over hearts and minds. While Out looks suitably atmospheric, it is simply too slow and clunky. Colombia should have gotten more for their new tax incentives. Beyond the impressive real estate, it is just another tepid, logic-challenged genre outing. Not recommended, Out of the Dark opens tomorrow (2/27) in New York at the Quad Cinema.

It’s a Disaster and They Feel Fine

The world will soon be destroyed, but annoying hipsters remain eternal, like cockroaches.  A small circle of friends (or frienemies) will brunch on vegan stew and saran gas in Todd Berger’s It’s a Disaster (trailer here), which opens today in New York.

Hamlet might say the regular couples’ brunch hosted by Emma and Pete Mandrake is a custom “more honored in the breach than the observance.”  Nobody really enjoys them, but they feel obligated to attend.  Glenn Randolph is about to find out why.  He is new to the group, having only dated the romantically luckless Tracy Scott for a few weeks.  Before the scrupulously unidentified terrorists or whatever strike, the Mandrakes drop their own bomb, announcing their plans to divorce.

The already tense mood is hardly improved when the cable, internet, and wireless service all go on the blink.  Eventually, the self-absorbed couples get the inkling something might be amiss, leading to a mad search to find an old fashioned terrestrial radio.

Even though Disaster is essentially a comedic sketch drawn out to feature length, the first two thirds are consistently amusing.  Berger wryly skewers his consumerist yuppie couples, walking a fine line in their characterization.  They are neither too likable for the audience to be overly concerned about their impending doom, nor so unpleasant we resent spending eighty-eight minutes in their company. 

Unfortunately, Disaster craters in the home stretch, mean-spiritedly bludgeoning Evangelicals.  Satire is only really funny when it is based on a thorough understanding of the subject getting the business.  Frankly, it seems like all Berger knows about the Rapture he gleaned from a Left Behind trailer.

Up to a point, David Cross is quite amusing as Randolph and the persistently under-appreciated Julia Stiles displays some nice comic timing as Scott.  Rachel Boston and Kevin M. Brennan also show an aptitude for broad, slightly risqué material.  America Ferrera and Jeff Grace have plenty of shtick as the perennially engaged Hedy Galili and Shane Owens, but they never look or sound like a convincing couple and generally lack presence on-screen.  On the other hand, Erinn Hayes and Blaise Miller are completely believable as the bickering Mandrakes, but Berger largely shortchanges them on zingers.

The unfathomable stress of Armageddon could be a telling crucible to examine human nature in all its extremes and banalities.  Yet, like Abel Ferrara’s 4:44 Last Day on Earth, Disaster largely squanders the potential opportunity.  There are a fair amount of laughs and some clever gags in the film, but it will leave many viewers will a sour after-taste.  Recommended only for full of themselves David Cross fans, It’s a Disaster opens today (4/12) in New York at the Village East and in Brooklyn (naturally) at the Nitehawk Cinema.

Stars in Shorts: Branagh, Firth, Knightley, and Company

Following his epic adaptation of Henry V, Sir Kenneth Branagh’s third Academy Award nomination came for a short film—a treatment of Chekhov’s Swan Song.  Although he has now reinvented himself as a tent-pole director, with the new Jack Ryan thriller on the way, Branagh periodically returns to shorter forms of filmmaking.  That is indeed Branagh appearing as the villain in Benjamin Grayson’s Prodigal, which screens as part of Shorts International’s Stars in Shorts program (trailer here), opening this Friday at the IFC Center.

While Branagh is a delight as Mark Snow, the head of a shadowy research group (and namesake of the X-Files composer), Prodigal (trailer here) largely recycles a number of the themes and motifs familiar from Chris Carter’s television series.  David O’Neill regrets entrusting Samantha, his young daughter with powerful telekinetic abilities, to the Prodigal institution.  He enlists the help of a secretive branch of the federal government, but in retrospect, this is probably a further mistake.  Aside from Branagh, the cast is a bit colorless, but Prodigal certainly looks like a polished production.  Fans of Winter Ave Zoli (from Sons of Anarchy) will be also interested to see her as David’s wife Angela.

Probably the funniest short of the block is Robert Festinger’s The Procession, starring Lily Tomlin and the sort of starrish Jesse Tyler Ferguson as the shallowest, most self-centered mother-and-son tandem you would never want to be trapped in a car with during a funeral procession.  It basically plays like an unproduced episode of Seinfeld or Curb Your Enthusiasm, but it works.

One of the standouts of the program, Rupert Friend’s Steve also starts out in a somewhat comedic vibe, but takes a decidedly dark turn.  A couple’s bickering is interrupted by a neighbor’s seemingly reasonable inquiry about a leak.  However, the title character will be back, with weirder complaints.  He will also expect tea.  Colin Firth is memorably off as Steve, while the glammed down Keira Knightley is convincingly harried as his reluctant host.  It is a nice short acting showcase, fittingly helmed by Friend, recognizable as the protag-journalist in Renny Harlin’s 5 Days of War, among other big screen roles.

Film and sound editor Jay Kamen’s Not Your Time is pretty amusing as well.  Featuring Jason Alexander as Sid Rosenthal, an editor who always wanted to helm a Busby Berkley musical, it mines Player style laughs by featuring a cast of Hollywood insiders as themselves.  Music students will also appreciate Kamen’s send-up of atonal avant-garde classical composition.  While the humor is distinctly dark, Alexander’s shticky persona best fits brief running times, like NYT’s twenty five minutes.

Neil LaBute continues to seek redemption for his The Wicker Man remake with two characteristically cutting contributions.  Jacob Chase’s After School Special, written by LaBute, is an ironic twist kind of short, with its name “star,” Wes Bentley, not really factoring in the business end of the film.  Nonetheless, the closing scene definitely stings.  Sexting, both penned and helmed by the playwright, builds to a more obvious punchline, but Julia Stiles is deliciously catty as the other woman, burying herself in a mountain of LaButian dialogue.  It is smart gig for Stiles, who was terrif in Shakespeare in the Park’s Twelfth Night years ago, but seems to get the dumbest parts offered to her.

Perhaps the slightest constituent film is also the one with the greatest built in audience anticipation.  In Chris Foggin’s Friend Request Pending Dame Judi Dench and her crony engage in a bit of social networking and cyber flirtation, presumably before they nip off to India’s greener retirement pastures.  One of the floating heads on the program poster, Tim Hiddleston also eventually appears in a jokey cameo during Pending’s closing seconds.  A harmless reunion of My Week With Marilyn assistant director Foggin and co-stars Dench and Penny Ryder, it will probably endear itself to the Marigold Hotel set.

Though shorts programs are often inconsistent by their aggregated nature, there is no out and out clunker in Stars.  Steve might be the high point, but it notably represents a good way to see Branagh, Stiles, and LaBute doing their thing.  Recommended for fans of short films and LaBute, Stars in Shorts opens this Friday (9/28) in New York at the IFC Center.