The Rental: Just When You Thought B&B’s Were a Safe Alternative

It is amazing how deeply the film industry hates the gig economy. Most ride-share drivers you see in movies are creeps, but online bnb hosts are depicted as predatory criminals in a malevolent league of their own. Such seems to be the case again, but at least the execution is stylishly eerie throughout Dave Franco’s feature directorial debut, The Rental, which releases tomorrow on VOD and at select drive-ins.

Charlie and Mina have finally scored a major infusion of capital for their hipster start-up (doing whatever), so to celebrate, they book a weekend getaway for themselves and their respective romantic partners. You know, someplace coastal and isolated. It is a tight-knit group, since Mina is involved with Charlie’s underachieving loser brother, Josh. In contrast, Michelle is a straight-arrow type (albeit one who is not opposed to a little recreational MDMA use), but she still gets along better with Josh than Charlie does.

Things are a little awkward when the couples meet the renter, Taylor, because he initially declined Mina’s booking (presumably for unenlightened reasons), before accepting Charlie. He also has an unfortunate habit of saying things that can be taken the wrong way, or maybe reveal too much. Nevertheless, three of them get high and party the night away after the exhausted Michelle turns in early, but when they wake up, they start to notice some unsettling things around the property.

The Rental was co-written and co-produced by Joe Swanberg, so it makes sense it is aesthetically similar to some of his genre related films. Despite following a narrative very much like that of 14 Cameras and Welcome Home, The Rental is a stylish slow-burn that holds viewers transfixed. In terms of vibe and visceral impact, it recalls Hallam & Horvath’s unfairly underrated Entrance.

Snowpiercer, the TV Show

It is sort of like a dystopian Jules Verne yarn, wherein the last dregs of humanity survive the apocalypse in a train perpetually circling the earth, managed by Wilford Industries. The corporation has saved humanity, but of course they are the bad guys. That was conspicuously and gratingly so in Bong Joon-ho’s criminally over-rated film. However, there is a lot more nuance and dramatically richer characterization in the first fresh-start, blank-slate season of the TV adaption of Snowpiercer, which premieres this Sunday on TNT.

Global warming panic lead scientists to develop a planetary cooling scheme that worked too well. Now the planet is an ice ball and most life is dead. Fortunately, Wilford Industries produced Snowpiercer, a train one thousand and one cars long that must remain in constant motion to beat the freeze. Melanie Cavill is the public face of the Wilford company. It is her soothing voice that makes the PA announcements, but she also serves as Mr. Wilford’s direct lieutenant when it comes to maintaining order.

Andre Layton is the leader of the opposition. As a “Tailie,” he was not even supposed to be on Snowpiercer, but he and his fellow proles forced their way into the tail-section before the train left Chicago. Now they live off scraps and resentment, which often ignites battles with the “Brakemen,” Snowpiercer’s axe-wielding cops (guns pose a risk of rupturing the train’s environmental seals). Layton is definitely a fist-raising revolutionary, but he was also a homicide detective during his previous life, so Cavill is forced to send for him when a murder is committed up train. Of course, his investigation will uncover more of the train’s dirty secrets than Cavill imagined.

The Snowpiercer series is drastically different from the movie—and each and every change is for the better. Showrunner Graeme Manson deserves a great deal of credit for ditching the crude caricatures and in-your-face class warfare didacticism that made the film so abrasive. This time around, there really are two sides to the story, order versus equality. That in turn gives rise to real drama.

At the center of it all is Cavill, who is an endlessly intriguing and ultimately acutely human character. Thanks to Jennifer Connelly’s extraordinary portrayal, we come to understand the compromises she made and how each agonizing choice inevitably leads to another. Honestly, this could be the best genre television performance of the year.

Daveed Diggs also covers a lot of emotional terrain, humanizing Layton far beyond a stick-figure proletarian rebel. He is at his best fencing with either Connelly’s Cavill or Sheila Vand as Layton’s former fiancé, Zarah Ferami, who betrayed her class by accepting a new life working in a third-class nightclub. Like Cavill, Ferami is a complicated character, who must live with the consequences of her decisions every day.

The Wave: It’s a Trip

Should Frank have just said “no?” The consequences of the bean-counting attorney’s drug use are pretty dire. In fact, it might just cost him everything (really everything), but he just might reach the point where he can accept that in Gille Klabin’s down-the-rabbit-hole freak-out, The Wave, which opens tomorrow in Los Angeles.

Good old Frank is poised to finally win some positive attention from the firm’s senior partners when he spots a way to invalidate the hefty life insurance policy of a fire-fighter, who left behind a wife and kids (“they always do” is the cynical refrain of Frank’s colleagues). To celebrate his anticipated rising position in the firm (and for a respite from his not so passively aggressive wife), Frank joins his hard-partying colleague Jeff for celebratory drinks.

Jeff quickly gloms onto Nathalie and Theresa, the latter of whom really makes an impression on Frank. Consequently, he uncharacteristically joins them at an underground house party, where he and Theresa ill-advisedly partake of a mystery drug offered by mumbo-jumbo-spouting drug dealer (it will “hit you like a wave” he says). For a while, they gambol in some new age dreamscape, but when Frank wakes up, Theresa is gone, along with his wallet and all the available funds in his bank account.

Still tripping his lights out, Frank tries to make it through the most important business meeting of his career. Hoping to find something to take the edge off, he and Jeff set out in search of Theresa, only to discover she is missing in real life too. As Frank loses time and experiences waking visions, his grasp on reality weakens precipitously. Then things really go haywire for Frankie Boy.

There have been plenty of reality-problematizing movies before, but the way Klabin and screenwriter Carl W. Lucas manage to equally balance the humor and the disorientation is really something else. This is a wild ride, with some outrageous mayhem that does not always make total sense, but Klabin manages to fit the fractured pieces back together in clever ways.

Undone: Amazon Gets Rotoscoped

Rotoscoping must be the official animation style of Texas. After Richard Linklater used the technique of layering animation over live-action film cells for his Austin-set Walking Life, the team behind Bojack Horseman have employed it to tell a tale of [certain] depression, [likely] madness, and [possible] time travel in San Antonio. The result is Undone, the Amazon Empire’s first animated series for adults, which premieres this Friday.

Alma Winograd-Diaz’s family must have sky-high auto insurance rates. Roughly twenty years after her father Jacob Winograd perished in a car crash, Winograd-Diaz has a doozy of her own wreck. She wakes suffering from mild short-term amnesia, unaware she broke up with her loyal boyfriend Sam not long before. Determined to “be there for her,” Sam opts not to fill her in on this little detail.

Eventually, Sam’s white lie is bound to catch up with him, but it will take several twenty-some-minute episodes. In the short-term, Alma is quite distracted by her father, who has been appearing too her through some kind of astral woo-woo, pressuring her to help him solve his murder. Winograd is convinced he and his research assistant (whom he was absolutely not having an affair with) were bumped off because of his research into time travel. Having bobbed and weaved between life and death, Winograd-Diaz’s consciousness might be ready to embrace the non-linearity of time—or maybe she is losing her grasp on reality, like her schizophrenic grandmother.

You have to admire the ambition of creators Raphael Bob-Waksberg & Kate Purdy, who dive whole-heartedly into some heavy thematic material. Unfortunately, most of their character development work focused on Winograd-Diaz, a whiny, self-centered, self-defeating, self-loathing millennial, while most of the other characters are largely stock characters we can auto-fill on our own: bossy mother, princess-like younger sister, tolerant boss, doormat boyfriend. The notable exception is dear old dad, who is an intriguing cypher that slowly but surely takes on fuller dimensions.

Only the first five episodes (out of eight) have been supplied to reviewers, but thus far, the series errs on the side of family drama. Honestly, the only aspect of the Winograd-Diaz’s family most viewers will care about is the suspected murder of her father. It is too bad, because there is a lot of cool Inception kind of stuff going on. It potentially represents an intelligent return to the mind-over-matter school of time travel movies that goes back at least as far as Somewhere in Time, but has far richer theoretical underpinnings this time around.

Given the rotoscope technique, we really can talk about full performances from the Undone cast, not just voice-over work. Although he is deceptively reserved, there is something about the scoped-over Bob Odenkirk as Winograd that holds viewers’ attention and imagination rapt. It is also worth noting emerging indie genre superstar Sheila Vand (A Girl Walks Home Alone at Night) portrays his student-assistant, but most of her featured work presumably comes in episodes six to eight. As Winograd-Diaz, Rosa Salazar makes us want to bang our heads against a park bench, but that means she nails the character.

Alfred Hitchcock’s Spellbound is still probably the greatest head-shrinking thriller of all time, thanks to the imagery he and Salvador Dali crafted. At its best, Undone presents psycho-razzle dazzle at a similar level. The problem is all the patience-sapping melodrama. Recommended for the expressionistic visuals to Prime members, who have already paid for it, Undone premieres this Friday (9/13) on Amazon.

Prospect: Claim-Jumpers in Space

Eventually, everything in space will be just as shabby as most of the Earth. It really will not take long, due to the cramped spaces and closed systems. Such is the case with the patched together space vessel piloted by Cee and her father Damon. When it breaks down, they find themselves literally in a world of hurt. The claim-jumping bad guys will also be a problem in Christopher Caldwell & Zeek Earl’s space western Prospect (trailer here), which opens this Friday in New York.

Cee would really prefer to put down roots and lead a normal life, but her father, an itinerant space miner and trader insists on pursuing one dubious claim after another. He might actually have a line on something big this time, but they will be cutting it close. They will only have a limited time to harvest a fabled gem deposit before rendezvousing with the final interstellar transit servicing these parts. Unfortunately, their crash-landing sets them behind schedule. A fatal encounter with a couple of outlaws will be even costlier.

Despite her reluctance, Cee must work together with the surviving outlaw Ezra, if she wants to get back to human civilization. He is no boy scout that’s for sure—talkative too—but there are even more dangerous people at large on the planet.

Prospect is definitely playing with the archetypes of two beloved genres. Think of it as the Heinlein juvenile version of Treasure of the Sierra Madre, but in space, there are no stinking badges. Yet, it never feels like a gimmick. Instead, there is a tragic inevitability to Caldwell & Earl’s narrative, which pays off in a major way.

Somehow, as Cee, Sophie Thatcher seems to mature before our eyes over the course of the film. Pedro Pascal does some of his best work ever as the morally ambiguous Ezra. They are both terrific together, totally selling the subtle evolution of their shotgun partnership. Unfortunately, we can hardly see the space-helmeted Sheila Vand portraying one of the third act mercs, but she still definitely came to play. Andre Royo is also all kinds of creepy as a survivor who has gone slightly nuts, in a Heart of Darkness kind of way.

This is also a great looking film, from the ominously pollen-heavy atmosphere to the scruffy space ship decor, which brings to mind John Carpenter’s Dark Star, Roger Corman’s enjoyable rip-off Space Raiders, and even classic, un-digitally-enhanced Star Wars interiors. Earl’s cinematography and the craftsmanship of the design team are all wonderfully evocative. Frustratingly, the science fiction press tends to ignore indie upstarts like this, but in a few years, this will a favorite of nearly every fan at Comic-Con. Very highly recommended for genre enthusiasts and mainstream audiences alike, Prospect opens this Friday (11/2) in New York, at the Regal Union Square.

BUFF ’17: 68 Kill

Its called exploitation for a reason. Neither the filmmaker or the characters of this gleefully sordid, southern-fried caper gives a toss if it hurts your feelings or upsets your delicate sensibilities. People are going to get humiliated, beaten-up silly, and all kinds of dead in Trent Haaga’s 68 Kill, which screens tonight during the 2017 Boston Underground Film Festival.

A femme fatale vixen like Liza ought to be well out of the league of Chip, a truly luckless loser, but they probably deserve each other. She treats him like dirt and he keeps coming back for more. Unfortunately, he does not make enough money mucking out septic tanks to cover their rent, so every month she pays off the landlord in “services rendered.” Unfortunately for him, he lets it slip during their awkward pillow talk that he has 68 grand in cash, currently on hand, just begging for Liza to hatch a violent home invasion scheme to snatch it away.

Of course, that is exactly what she does, dragging the alarmed Chip along to ride shotgun. Seeing how easily Liza guns down her victims makes rethink their relationship, especially when he lays eyes on Violet (another woman reluctantly forced to service the late landlord). Chip is smitten and also horrified by Liza’s plans for their captive (they are utterly appalling), so he coldcocks his soon-to-be ex, grabs the money and the girl and starts running for all he’s worth. Obviously, Liza will be hot on their trail, with Hell following after her, but a group of sadistic white trash psychopaths might turn out to be a more pressing problem.

68 Kill is a lurid, nihilistic revel in perversity, but it is bizarrely entertaining to see how low it is willing to go. When Haaga hits rock bottom, he starts drilling into the Earth’s crust. This film just wallows in primordial sleaze, but you have to give it credit for making due on its promise.

Based on his performance as Chip, Matthew Gray Gubler would probably make a good whipping post. Seriously, it often just hurts to watch him. On the other hand, AnnaLynne McCord is beyond fierce as Liza, the villainess from Hell. However, Sheila Vand (as you’ve never seen her before) totally hangs with McCord’s Liza as Monica, the goth-trash psycho-hooker. Alisha Boe also keeps the audience off balance as Violet. She looks and acts sweet, but she archly delivers some of the dirtiest lines in the film.

To his credit, Haaga keeps it all zinging along. This is everything My Father Die aspired to be, but fell far short of reaching. Recommended for its sheer chutzpah, 68 Kill screens tonight (3/24) as part of this year’s BUFF.

Sundance ’17: XX

Horror movies introduced us Mrs. Voorhees before we ever met her son Jason, as well as Annie Wilkes in Misery, Asami Yamazaki in Audition, and a host of Japanese lady ghosts, with long flowing hair. Horror fans understand better than anyone everyone is a potential serial killer, regardless how vulnerable they might look. That doesn’t leave any room for sexism, but four (or five counting the interstitial animation) women filmmakers will drive the point home in the anthology film XX (trailer here), which screened at the 2017 Sundance Film Festival.

Jovanka Vuckovic’s The Box is based on a Jack Ketchum story rather than the previously adapted Richard Matheson tale, but the vibes are not completely dissimilar. Thus far, Susan Jacobs has balanced motherhood and her professional work quite well, but while on the train back to the suburbs, she fails to adequately discourage her bratty son Danny from looking in a stranger’s gift box. At the time, he has little reaction, but he permanently loses his appetite thereafter. In addition, he seems to be able to pass along the mysterious malady to other family members.

The Box has a terrific look and feel that sort of brings to mind Todd Haynes’ Carol, but it is by far the better film. Vuckovic manages to give it a fable-like vibe, yet also keep it concretely grounded in its sheltered Westchester (or wherever) world. Natalie Brown is also quite compelling as the distressed mother.

In contrast, Annie Clark’s The Birthday Party is played mostly for gory laughs, but they mostly land thanks to a game cast. About an hour before her daughter’s meticulously planned birthday party, Mary is alarmed to find her husband has dropped dead, so she goes to extreme lengths to cover-up his death. It is a blackly comic one-darned-thing-after-another yarn, but it features Sheila (A Girl Walks Home Alone at Night) Vand as Carla, the intimidating and ridiculously glamorous housekeeper as a happy bonus.

Roxanne Benjamin’s Don’t Fall is easily the most conventional of the assembled films in XX. By day, a group of campers off-handedly discover some rock carvings, but by night they realize they are not alone out there. Benjamin crafts some atmospheric moments, but we have been here many times before.

Happily, XX ends on a high note with Karyn Kusama’s Her Only Living Son. Cora’s son is about to turn eighteen and he is starting to exhibit behavioral problems—yet none of the teachers or administrators at his school seem to alarmed by his sudden aggression. Of course, we have our suspicions why that will be quickly confirmed. Essentially, Kusama’s contribution is a clever riff on Polanski’s Rosemary’s Baby, suggesting what might have happened if the pregnant mother had ditched Ralph Bellamy for a real doctor sooner. Kusama steadily cranks up the tension quite insidiously, while Christina Kirk is really quite terrific as the ferociously protective Cora.

Her Only Living Son is probably the best full and discrete installment in XX, but the most distinctive parts are probably Sofia Carrillo’s macabre stop-motion animated wrap-around segments, featuring creepy porcelain dolls and all sorts of haunted house trappings. It is a fairly solid collection, but the first two constituent films go more for feelings of alienation and betrayal or gross-out laughs rather than outright scares. Regardless, the work from Kusama, Vuckovic and Carrillo, along with the presence of Vand and Kirk easily carries the full film. Recommended for fans of horror and the darkly ironic, XX screened at this year’s Sundance, in advance of its February 17^th theatrical opening in select cities, including the Nitehawk Cinema in Brooklyn.